Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
The hymn sing at Tom and Peggy’s was awesome, as was the potluck afterwards (whoever brought the masala chickpeas, thank you, they were YUMMERS).
The Zombie Walk was even awesomer, and my fave part was being part of a zombie mob that tried to overturn a post-apocalypse zombie fighting bus. That and going to Tanpopo still in full zombie regalia and having all I can eat sushi with Katie K. Happy me.
But I laughed my ass off. Motorcycles and children’s playground equipment !
So last night I’m watching live TV (which we never do, or hardly ever do) and there’s a tv show from 2008 about the swapping of the poles. Yes, the poles are swapping. It’ll take 40,000 years, maybe less ’cause we’re all in such a hurry these days. So the partial collapse of the magnetosphere is connected to the weakening of the magnetic field of the earth, and it’s borne out by looking at ships’ logs from the 1590’s on. Up until 1840 or thereabouts the field strength was about the same – it’s been dropping steadily ever since. For more details, most of which are incomprehensible but at least the article links are understandable, check out Wikipedia for Magnetosphere, South Atlantic Anomaly and Earth’s Magnetic Field.
mOm is always telling me about relatives and my relation to them, and here’s a handy map. With level of genetic kinship.
Katie wanted to watch the most recent True Blood and Paul and Keith wanted to join us, so in our lovely accretive way, everybody came over for a schnitzel dinner and we watched True Blood and hung out en famille. Very very nice, and the weather is so glorious.
and now… A Flying Donkey.
Somehow, I don’t think the Great Dane in The Sky ever considered the prospect of Dachsunds scuba diving.
Cross posted from Colin’s Facebook.
Cat pee = perfume. Now we haz prüf!
Only one burning cop car? Torontonians are so low-key. If the facebook posts of eastern pals are anything to go by, Toronto’s a farking mess right now – apparently they shut down the transit system, which is questionable tactics.
Bearsneezle! Watch for how loopy the bear is at the end of its sneezing fit.
Camille Paglia overgeneralizes her way into the newspapers again. I can hardly disagree with her assessment of Lady Gaga though.
Rehearsal tonight with Orange You Glad.
Writing projects: None at the moment, but I’m transcribing dreadfully earnest Victoria poetry for my mOm.
I am still wiping tears from my eyes. The manly art of ferret legging.
Dropped off Darwin’s prezzies (finally).
Must pull biscotti from oven now.
Yesterday at the mall, I watched with goggling eyes as a super hot Asian woman in her early twenties wearing a floaty black dress strode by. I noticed that she was wearing something sheer, and as I watched her bum disappear into the SaveOn, I realized that my inability to see so much as a thong had something to do with her not wearing any underwear at all. I rubbed my eyes.
Then I looked around.
I was the only person who had noticed.
I have come to the conclusion that Vancouver IS the best place in the world to live. Although I’d like to find the putz that bent Ziva’s antenna and chide him.
Religious persecution quiz, scanged from a facebook/filking buddy. Who himself was reposting it.
Statins have much worse potential side effects than was previously believed.
Wretched excess meets explosive cuteness.
I’m not posting a link, but one of the church women posted a youtube link to her toddler doing the Hokey Pokey with her, and I just wanted to mention that that’s what it’s all about.
We live in a culture which has little use for our basic instincts, and is thus breeding / punishing their existence out of us as fast as it can. One can only wonder what the hell will take its place. These days I wonder how some people manage to feed themselves. As long as we are where our instincts don’t serve us, many of us will feel alienated. I think church is a kind of hamfisted way of addressing that alienation. I can’t help thinking that we’re a step away from ‘customized religious experiences’ and I’m not just talking about going to rural Peru to have a drunken shaman pour ayahuasca down your throat and then count his money while you trip endlessly into a brightly painted bucket of existential horror. I’m talking about thinking, “I want a religious experience that includes singing and labyrinth walking and drums this Sunday,” and if you live in a big town, actually being able to get it. Virtually, perhaps. but if we do not breathe together…. if we do not conspire….. what are we? That’s why we live from con to con, from dance to dance, from concert to concert, from gig to gig, from (please do NOT CLICK ON THIS LINK AT WORK or IF YOU THINK Lesbian or BDSM sexuality is icky) hookpull to hookpull, from Sunday to Sunday (or whatever your religiously mandated gathering day is). Re hookpulls, I personally know two people who have attended and participated in these events, and I like ’em fine, so if you want to remonstrate with me about how sick it is I’m just gonna make a sad face and change the subject. You wouldn’t catch me dead at one of them though, I ain’t going anywhere like that just to be a voyeur and I don’t need any additional pain in my body at the moment, thanks. My complete incomprehension does not include disgust.
Extra solar planets for the win. Every time I look at it, there’s more. Everything is on fast forward.
Of course, if I fail to mention the artificial life, people will wonder if I dropped off to sleep.
As I type this I am looking at the handwriting of my ancestor Henry Thomas Wake, and wishing I could have handwriting like that. Copperplate. He actually made money from designing lettering. mOm says he would be a blogger if he was alive today. He records in his diary, March 1859, that we went to Euston Square Station to determine the cheapest way to go visit Carlisle, and also that a friend has kindly lent him a book on double entry bookkeeping. (He was demoniac about self-improvement).
I’m going to take my chalky and somewhat premigraineous brain out for a drive now. I want a drum.
Recommended, if a little grue-y in spots.
Tentacle porn Tarot deck. You bet your ass it’s not safe for work. The shizz you find on Facebook! Anyway, there’s just one card, but the descriptions are pretty awful. If I did a Tarot deck it would be updated for modern life, and there’d be an internet major arcana, and one of the suits would be grease (as in petrochemicals).
Tonight, laundry. Tomorrow night church meeting. And soon, soon, I will go to the opera for the first time in my life. Course I have to pay for the tickets first.
1/4 of Pink Floyd is coming to Vancouver on December 10 and I wanna go.
I stared at a tesseract for a long time last night. It is helping me come to terms with change.
If I sound a little odd…. it’s because…. I am! Bet you didn’t see that one coming. I’m just happy cause I thought I lost my cell phone, but Jeff found it in his car.
I am from the future. It is a chocolate communist hellhole.
It barfed all over “No tapioca in the microwave”.
I was having a dispute with a neighbour (I was living by myself again in a walkup apartment, like THAT would ever happen) and she chose to respond to it by drowning three kittens in my ornamental fountain, which was in the entranceway to the apartment. They were still warm when I picked them up. I guess bathing Margot so frequently (she had a poopy bum again so she got bathed this weekend) is making me used to the feel of wet cat fur, because I could feel their warm little bodies as I picked them up. I thought, who could do such a thing? And then I remembered. My subconscious could. Thanks, subconscious, you suck.
There is no gravity; the Earth sucks. Gravity does not exist as a separate property of matter, it’s a byproduct of entropy. Go go gadget string theory! Oh, and this is a neener neener to Jeff; I have supported string theory since the instant I first heard about it, and he pooh poohs the notion.
This is not gonna end well. DNA REV 2.0
Olympics, so no Castle. Wah.
Italian hillside heads for the rhubarb.
Free trade (in quotes) and massive local corruption and crappy infrastructure make for African starvation.
All five of us (me, Paul, Keith, Kate and Jeff) were here last night eating, not drinking, and watching TV. That’s right, Jeff let the beer run out. Secretly I am pleased, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell from my undeviating stream of complaint last night.
Do you suppose Canada can actually learn from the mistakes of others?
Greece is hosed and the Euro dooooomed. Doomed I tell you.
