One of my twitterdudes said this and I had to memorialize it.
(Family friends keep telling him how much he looks like his despised, despicable grandfather and he wants them to effing stop.)
All I did yesterday was change my clothes, post to my blog, roast all the remaining almonds (fit for three batches of biscotti), do the Wordle, complete Lumosity training for the day, get Jeff some tea and a fried egg sammy (I just had the eggs with the bell peppers I roasted the other day), take my pills, throw out some compostables, empty the sink, train the cat with paw claps and running catches, police up my eyebrows, run the dishwasher, watch TV including the most recent TLoU and Vera, talk to Aunt Mary on the phone, work on Totally Boned, post shit on twitter and facebook, and order Japanese food (finally got the amount right, we had virtually no leftovers.)
I also read a lot of stuff on the internet about long COVID. Anyone reading this has survived a mass disabling event, and we’re either irritable or transfixed with our grief. When will we come to an understanding that we’ve globally:
Normalized people dropping dead from cardiovascular issues…. at any age.
increased the number of children who will never be able to pursue gainful employment in a fashion that is useful to end stage capitalism due to thymus collapse; as adults they will be immunocompromised for their entire lives. You know how in Victorian times there were ‘delicate children’, well, this kid over here will have had a stroke at age three and have a withered arm; this kid over there will die if she doesn’t get her allergy medication and her albuterol; that kid over there had a series of mini strokes in utero and will never take herself to the toilet unassisted; this kid over here will move to the city with his parents at the age of five and never be healthy again; these kids will catch fungal infections from playing in contaminated water after an earthquake and slowly die as their lungs turn black from the inside out; and all these kids here and there will die of childhood ailments because no group of people is consistently vaccinating against them any more and water treatment will get harder and harder as there’s less and less water.
reduced the fertility of the smallest upcoming generation in history and so we will thus be subjected, over and over, in family after family, to our own little version of the ‘children of men’. The current fertility data for younger people is horrifying. Many young men simply aren’t producing enough motile and healthy sperm to be able to count on fathering children if they get the opportunity. For young women, the problem will not so much be getting pregnant (although anecdotally this seems to be an issue) as maintaining a pregnancy for 8 months and then not dying of the consequences of gestational diabetes, like eclampsia, or losing the child late in the pregnancy. Eclampsia events during pregnancy have increased (according to the CDC (US)) by 30 PERCENT IN THE LAST SEVERAL YEARS. (If you don’t hear the original Star Trek klaxon at this point you’re not getting me, here.) Since the pando started. COVID hides in reproductive tissues as easily as anywhere else in the human body. Fertility gods and goddesses are planning a comeback.
and so ….in sum …. we’ve fixed it so that we’ll, as a species, have fewer kids and more of them will be born disabled, or sacrificed to disability after they’re born because of terrible public health policies.
The people who will bear the brunt of all this are women. Because we carry children. Because we birth them. Because we care for them. And because the patriarchy would rather that we women die and the children be born.
So my mood is bleak, on this day after ‘family day.’
The couple in Totally Boned is comprised of an asexual man in a wheelchair because of nerve damage in his legs and an intersex man who’s sex averse but very affectionate. I am deliberately and specifically writing a romance / thriller that doesn’t have any sex in it. Both characters take a dim view of heteronormative pressures and at least one of them wouldn’t say the word ‘love’ if he was drowning in melted chocolate cherubs.
So it is with disgust bordering on hysteria that I present to you this article.
The idea of preventing asexual people from marrying is so heart crushing and so contrary to the idea that people should be able to form the pair bonds (and committed polyamorous marriages) they need to for their own happiness that I’m incapable of further representing my horror and resistance in words.
Speaking of disgust and hysteria, a brave Belarusian doctor has provided documentation of Lukashenko’s support of Putin. This story is a tough read. It includes xrays of injured Russian soldiers and evidence of the support the Belarusian government has freely offered, and the Belarusian people are reluctantly providing, and also shows how fighting-aged men are fleeing Belarus.
Jeff and I watched the first 2/3 of Bros, a gay rom-com. It was quite filled with dudity so parts of it are tough to watch (yes, despite my writing of gay fanfic? gay sex scenes, EVEN WITH LUKE MCFARLANE – one of the hottest men to ever show off his forearms – can be a tough watch – truth be told I’m having trouble watching ANY consensual sex scenes with persons of any gender these days and rape scenes make me ill) but the script is a sparkling coruscation of wit and humour and the procession and occasional inversion of rom com tropes is most entertaining. Also the bisexual representation is greatly appreciated and Debra Messing’s unhinged guest spot is eye-popping.
8783 words on part II.
What Rapp says is so dignified. Kevin Spacey is still a predatory asshole and I’ll sing it from the housetops.
“I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to have my case heard before a jury, and I thank the members of the jury for their service.”
“Bringing this lawsuit was always about shining a light, as part of the larger movement to stand up against all forms of sexual violence.”
“I pledge to keep on advocating for efforts to ensure that we can live and work in a world that is free from sexual violence of any kind. I sincerely hope that victims can continue to tell their stories and fight for accountability.”
Laryssa Gervan of Vancouver came up with a lovely Halloween display, photo credit to her.
There’s more and more news saying that plastic recycling levels are dropping even as plastic consumption rises.
Don’t buy plastic if you can avoid it. (Link goes to a pop up Christmas store at the 28,000-square-foot Potters Nursery & Garden Centre in Surrey, now till Christmas. BLEAUGH I MEAN IT’S LITERALLY 28000 SQUARE FEET OF TOXIC PLASTIC FROM CHINA AND ELSEWHERE FILLED WITH LEAD AND CADMIUM.)
8649 words on Part II
Still loving Sharpe and Hornblower shows.
RNC demonstrates that it and the ignorant goofballs running it are incapable of understanding spam filters. They have sued Google. Good luck with that, all you Chucks and Karens.
Callister Brewing Company’s Wee Laird Wee Heavy Scottish Ale has won the Canada Beer Cup out of 1000 entrants. What can I say, Vancouver is a beery good place to live, eat and drink.
In more beer news, someone stole Steamworks Brewing’s newest beermobile. IT’S BRIGHT FUCKING ORANGE PEOPLE. This town needs an enema, and I’m unsure where to jam that nozzle cause there be so so so very many bums.
This is not a suicide note:
I’d bang on my brother’s door and waken him
rather than leave him my corpse ***on purpose***
ew, I mean, ew
my consciousness wrote the suicide note to you
but the smelly part is still here
I know that my procession
through these eroded markers
but the weeping was tiresome
and I had no patience with the acidic streams
for – did you know – your tears become more basic
over the course of the day, and it’s 2 am here
I pull a stray hair out of my mouth and continue
in the present tense
<<< fly back and forth
destroyers of narrative >>>
I cry as if I could be cleansed
rather than imprisoned
behind bars of vapour
quit potchkying around and write this damned thing
it is my salute to those I love who live still
and everything they taught me, all of which
I will take with me to my niche
in the columbarium
for everything I’ve learned is nothing
compared to what is coming
it’s the brutal and the lucky
who will live
another sieve for humanity
I passed through one, today
Most days I don’t know
how close I came
but I do today
Nathan @churchofwolves <—- the author and a ‘mutual’ on twitter (we follow each other – he lives in Glasgow.)
Truss fails upwards, tanks the economy, eats shit on the international stage and nets herself 12x the state pension annually for life. Burn this fucking country to the ground.
LizTruss will be entitled to claim up to £115,000 per year from the taxpayer for the rest of her life once she leaves office, despite likely being one of the shortest-serving prime ministers in history.
Based on average life expectancy that’s upwards of FOUR MILLION QUID for TWO MONTHS of being an unmitigated omnishambles.
I’m going to be raging about this all day, fuck.
I just had to share unmitigated omnishambles with you.
So… someone in the UK slapped two googly eyes on a head of lettuce and asked the internet to bet if it would outlast Liz Truss. Current betting is …. not looking good.
Much love to Ontie Mary this morning. I told the story to Jeff over breakfast yesterday of what happened when she watched Star Wars Episode IV A New Hope with her kids in the theatre. As I recollect the story she sussed the movie as being CLASSIC HOLLYWOOD and cheered the heroes and yelled at the villains ….
and got told to behave by her kids.
I woke up and realized the air quality was much better. It’s not clear but the elephant got off my chest.
By ditching Anjali Appadurai the BC NDP have indicated SO many things.
The foregoing combination was poopulous.
CONTENT WARNING POOP
Fortunately I had my grandson Alex with me (full of Tim Horton’s finest) and he said that there were no brown stains, so I made it home without public embarrassment, just that drawn face and awkward gait that accompanies an er accidental blowout. I’m only sharing this so my mOm can smile sadly and nod. Getting old BLOWS I tell ya. I knew better, and got coffee anyway. On the plus side, I managed to avoid pooping myself until AFTER I picked up the amlodipine at the drugstore. So I managed to run an errand AND poop myself this morning, go me…..
TIME TO DO LAUNDRY well it was anyway but NOW IT’S REALLY TIME TO DO LAUNDRY
Did I ever tell you about the time I pooped my pants on the transit in Montreal? This would have been when I was in my thirties…. it’s a sad and smelly tale with a happy ending.
JUST TO MAKE MYSELF FEEL BETTER, here are all the comments (all of them) for my “Accidental Mr. Right” destiel story. Look at all the strangers I made happy!
I really really liked it
This was…. everything :}
Another lovely story. Thank you for sharing.
This was absolutely fantastic. Xx
You made me cry
Amazing!!! This was fabulous and I plan on reading it again so that I can take it all in. I loved the internal monologue from both boys and I was ready to cry both when Cas went back to Georgia and when he came back to Dean. THAT SIGN AT THE AIRPORT!! Great job, thanks for sharing.
This was GORGEOUS
Your stories contain some of the absolute best banter I have ever read, ever. Coupled with the sweetness and cuddling and softness, the wit and cleverness works so, so well. One million kudos to you, lovely.
This was so good! I loved it.
Do you know how adorable this is?!?!?!?!? Do you?!?!?!? Because I loved every tooth-rotting fluffy moment of it, from the gorgeous start to the fantastic finish. This is the perfect combo of angst, thickheaded characters, fluff, and pure unadulterated love. I almost wish I could go back in time just to appreciate this from the very beginning.
Holy mother fucking shit. That was so BEAUTIFUL! Everything about it! Beautifully paced, beautifully written, beautifully characterised! I can’t get over it. So many moments made me gasp and made my heart flood with emotion! ‘The love of my life’ what a perfect realisation for the two of them! And it was truly written as a love story. I could see them truly being in love and not just ‘here’s two hot guys. Now they’re fucking!’ I can’t get over this. I’m going to reread it so much!
aaaaaaaa this was wonderful!!! I love the characterization!!!!
Those adorable dummies! Their banter is just perfect, especially at the diner at the beginning, comparing views on politics and sports and religion. I’d kill to write so well!
I loved this
This was very sweet. ??
The bear went out on a summer’s day
He prayed the cops would stay away
For he’d many a goose to crunch away
Before he’d leave the town o town o town o
He’d many a goose to crunch away before he’d leave the town o
Juvenile bear in Central Park in Burnaby, in front of MASSES of horrified witnesses, ran down a gosling, stomped it and ate it.
People who drive around Burnaby LOOKING UP AT THE NORTH SHORE MOUNTAINS keep asking a very jejune question WHERE DO THE BEARS COME FROM and it’s look up, ya dimwit.
26862 words on totally boned.
Walked three circuits in Hilda Park with Paul yesterday. I’ll be going over to his place tomorrow to help him with some phone calls.
I haven’t forgotten about Roe vs. Wade being struck down.
I don’t share Jeff’s optimism about and relish in anticipation of the downfall of Clarence Thomas.
I’m unmoved by the revelation that were it not for Trump’s secret service agents telling him that the situation at the Capitol would not allow him to be conveyed there, he would have stood in front of a very well armed crowd, a crowd for whom he had previously turned off the magnetometers for his speech at the Ellipse, and turned them loose on downtown Washington, probably starting a bloody insurrection that would have gone on for days while the world watched in horror. We all knew what he was capable of, from the fountain of bilious spite that seems to be the only motivating factor, besides a nearly impervious vanity, in his personal arsenal.
I will be moved when I learn what Putin had on him. I likely never will, but the body language doesn’t lie.
I haven’t forgotten about Putin, pressing the ‘you don’t know if this is the day I nuke London’ button over and over again through the mouthpieces of those still depraved, meretricious and sycophantic enough to sit upright and talk under tv lights. I haven’t forgotten about the dead in a shopping mall, the shore boats with small cannons that are coming from one country, the shoulder mounted rockets from another, the three D printed field tourniquets (they’ve already saved lives and the Russians are stealing them, theirs are shit) from private citizens; the pencils and markers and paper for schoolkids. The Ukrainian forces are exhausted. Wave after wave of Siberian kids who may not even have indoor plumbing at home are being thrown at what are now some of the fiercest house to house fighters, kilo for kilo, in the world, but they’re tired and sometimes the reservists who’ve been called up are fighting kids young enough to be their grandchildren. In fact before the war is over I’m expecting to find a grandson and a grandchild face to face in this conflict. The Russians too are sending 50 year old reservists into battle. It’s a shit war. He ran through his youngest tropps too fast, through his autocratic contempt for them in his scheme for glory. It is NOT ‘the brother’s war’ and to call it a civil war would be to stomp on Ukraine’s self-determination and to feed yourself lies about Russia’s territorial demands. But it is a war between people who know each other, the direct consequence of the longings for Empire restored in Putin’s policies, and the fucking oligarchs who either ran away when shit got hard or followed him hoping for a payday.
I haven’t forgotten that the convoyancers are restarting their national tour. Lich has been rearrested for as far as anyone feels comfortable reporting, breach of bail conditions. Stay off social media? LOL. Unless you’re impounding her phone and serving public notice to the telecom companies that she can’t have another one for the duration, bes’ uv Bri’ish luck wi’ ‘at. Senior members of parliament (the Conservative side of the house be scuffing their loafers and avoiding comment) have warned Canadians not to become complacent about abortion rights; stuff that happens in the US can happen here and we’re fools not to pay attention.
I haven’t forgotten about my grandsons, who thrive, or my children who appear to be doing satisfactorily. Nor about my wide skein of acquaintances, family members and friends who suffer from cancer, or loneliness, or depression, or lack of work, or excess of work, but mostly from the terrible grinding dailiness of the bad news, when they’re supposed to be holding down ‘all that’ a household, a family, a routine, two squares a day, gardening, maintaining family and social contacts, navigating the minefield of contemporary politics.
I haven’t forgotten about how all of the pleasures I enjoy are balanced on a knife edge. But the landlord just came for the next three months’ cheques, so I doubt we’ll be going anywhere until September, and that has settled my mind just a small tad. Thank you to the founders of that particular feast.
It’s called The Trust Issue, and it’s a nested set of received opinions about how to trust the ourselves, the world and how we move through it and eventually out of it. I am thinking of it in terms of being on three scales; personal, familial (via family history, which is basically me saying HEY MA I THINK I FOUND ANOTHER USE FOR THE GAZILLIONS OF PIXELS YOU’VE SLAUGHTERED), and linguistic, but not in any academic sense, just in the sense that I have to use English to actually, like, do anything. English as often noted has many limitations in terms of felicity of precision *and* metaphor, at least for me, so I must perforce be appalled at operating within its tiresomely inevident confines. I know I am stuck here, in English, for I have neither the life expectancy nor the will to become able to write with ease and style in another language. The very idea makes a mockery of trust in any degree, but so be it. I shall scale Mt. Impossible because I dare not leave my room! The idea of actually making it fit into any politics, including the increasingly deadbeat anarchism I claim to claim (know what I mean) is loathsome to me so I am avoiding the political or public sphere, and I don’t think I could do it in less than 20000 words and suspect it’ll be closer to 70K.