I’ve been to the beach at the foot of Pkols many times and I never saw what Leo and Linda did.
Photo credit L Makela, Jealousy credit Allegra Sloman
16722 words
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.
There is a social media platform called Nextdoor.
I participate under my real name.
Bonus moose of war:
A moose being evacuated from the zoo in Kharkiv, per Ukraine NOW, social media arm of Ukrainian government pic.twitter.com/JSFQMtcrms
— Tim Mak (@timkmak) May 2, 2022
One load of laundry, ran the dishes, returned a library book. 12167 words. Talked to mOm on the phone.
Sadface that one of the few pieces of agricultural land in Burnaby will now be under the developer’s plow. Hop On Farms is closing after 40 years. I don’t know how many times we drove by that place, and how unreasonable is it that I wish the world would stop cutting my children’s childhood down…. anyway. It’s a stupid feeling, but I assert it anyway.
Buster’s stitches are itchy and he’s very affectionate this morning. Jeff has to get antibiotics and whatnot into him, I don’t envy him the task, and of course while he’s healing he’s supposed to stay indoors.
Did anybody actually look up the name of the species of alien I was shown eating yesterday? It translates as “Weird Surprise!” Now you know.
I hope with the following rather long post I can establish that no matter which particular rhetorical stab you make at it, Russia is guilty of war crimes.
Article 8
War Crimes
Most of this shown below is a repeat, but it shows that EVEN IF Putin declares that this military adventure is an internal matter for the Russian government to deal with… that it is an armed conflict not of an international character …. the FUCKING RULES ABOUT WAR CRIMES – the crimes for which you can be tried – still apply.
RUSSIA IS A SIGNATORY TO ALL OF THIS. <——- so Putin can’t skate on this as not being war crimes, EVEN IF it’s an armed conflict not of an international character or a ‘special military operation’ or whatever the fuck bogus locution in any language whatsoever that he throws at it.
The ever left Paul Blinkhorn shares this gem on twitter today, to which my response was candid and unhappy. The National Front, which grew out of the homegrown fascists of the 20s and 30s and still exists in the UK although with neither seats nor electoral results, literally showed a platform INDISTINGUISHABLE FROM THAT OF CONTEMPORARY TORIES. Except for the capital punishment, and they only left that one in place because live prisoners are more of a revenue stream for Tory prison contract lobbyists than dead ones, and I wish I was exaggerating.
The next time someone asks you what is an Overton window, you can tap this post and say THIS IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.
Katie provided me with a little light therapy yesterday. It’s stupid to say that a baby is the light of a house. I mean, I loved my own kids with a fierceness that scared me – and one can argue that it isn’t love, more like an accumulation of shared experiences that starts before birth and is dependent on hormones – and Ryker’s ability to make an entire room smile is thus explained.
But he’s a remarkably pleasant human being; not perfect, but perfect for a baby, so that twenty second period as he gazes at you until he recognizes you as part of ‘my people’ is always fraught. And then he smiles, and wiggles, and the world is better for a fragile second.
No kudos. I’m going to try to write, later, but right now all I can think of is a roast beef slider and coffee to start my day.
We’re watching episode three of Raised By Wolves (just started) and Jeff says, “As I get older I hate religion more and more.”
I understand this sentiment very well, but said, “I believe my experience has given me a better understanding of its consolations and benefits,” and Jeff acknowledged that I probably had a more useful take. But that said, the pure misogyny, life or death control over minor children and social control of everyone else involved forced on us by religions makes the whole enterprise suspect. Even Unitarians do evil.
Know well that I love you all, and I’d feel that way even if Christianity didn’t put that as a requirement on us that even atheists feel through repeated ‘lessons’. After all, you signed up for this blog, or wandered into it by accident. So here, have a blessing.
So I saw the doc, got a pap smear, had to wait an hour and a half. “Everything looks fine down there” what a relief eh.
Something odd came out of the overnight BP study. A couple of hours after I went to sleep that night my BP crashed and stayed there for about two hours. I mean crashed; literally so low that I’d be hospitalized. I guess I just have to be a weirdo. Otherwise the drugs seem to be doing their job and I’m not in Sky High About To Pop a Clog territory any more.
Jeff gave me a no-SMS-card phone so I have a calculator and alarm and game platform and I have now killed both of the chargers he loaned me so I have to replace them.
Got my meds re-upped – yet another change, this time because the drug is literally so old the drug company doesn’t want to make it in that formulation anymore, sounds like me. Anyway that’s set up and I should have enough prescriptions to cover me during an earthquake. I’ll be going off the inderal eventually. Very glad I’ve added vitamin c to the mix of pills I take every morning – as is often the case my teeth hurt less.
Today maybe I’ll get that bloodwork done, but it’s more likely because I have to go to the same building for my prescription,
Katie, Alex, Ryker and I are going to travel to Victoria at some point. This means that M&D have to re-jig their visiting from other relatives which I kinda feel bad about but it would have been hella worse if the unvaxxed baby breathed all over the immunocompromised elder, so at least everyone involved has consent. We’re also going to do RATs before we leave to ensure none of us are actively illin’.
I am not going to comment about the assault at the Oscars because as far as I can tell, with maybe one exception, every single white person whose comments I’ve seen has applied all the intersectionality of non-Euclidean geometry and all the nuance of a cast iron frying pan flung across the kitchen. Given that I am not the great white hope (sarcasm alert…. sarcasm & POOR CHOICE OF PHRASING alert) of contemporary anti-racism activities and thought, I won’t do better and therefore, if you want to know how I feel about it (I have three main points to make) you can ask me in person, and of your kindness, wear the rainsuit.
I am not going to comment as much about the Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine. I’m against it; I continue to donate and send letters and whatnot in the background; Putin won’t give up until he’s dead or deposed; Canada is as involved as it reasonably can be and maybe even more so anyplace it can get away with it; Russia and India and China are now doing a pavane and in the end China will crush Russia. In terms of will, planning, execution and numbers, China can’t do anything else.
The suffering of the Ukrainian people, and the Russians dragged into this war by violent paranoid old bigots, is not imaginable by those not experiencing it; we uphold their courage and denounce the frauds who’ve started this terrible slaughter.
6646 words, still waiting on further oomph to finish it. Haven’t seen any kudos yet this morning. I got the wordle in 5 this morning, but it was a complete bear of a word.
I give thanks to the people, the land and water, the sky and creatures, the weather and the seasons, of this place. I will keep working to restore the stewardship of the Salish peoples and uphold their immemorial relationship to the beautiful lands and waters. It is not mine although they share it with me. #LandBack
Three loads of laundry yesterday. I haven’t dragged it back up the stairs to put it away but, apart from my lilac hoodie which I neglected to include and must be laundered right away because it’s foul with spilled food (sigh), my clothes be clean.
Schrödingers dishwasher – did I run the damned thing or not.
Cleaned out Buster’s gammy ear this morning. Normally he bats at me and protests, but he was purring and gave me a little thank you chirp when I was done, so I think he was mebbe a little itchy.
Paul straightened things out with his housemates, and acknowledged to me by phone that his behaviour was boned. But Katie’s mellowed and I have not talked to Keith. Still thinking about the driving issue.
Curls fell out of my do but it’s still really cute and I love it. A bad haircut can ruin you but not for long and a good haircut just makes everything better. Interestingly I thought my hair was all the same colour but the ends were both darker and more washed out, if that’s possible, and now all the hair colour seems quite even to me, and the silver shine is (according to my stylist) something people pay thousands of dollars to obtain and maintain. God (for some reason) thinks I’m cool to extrude this stuff, and it’s great, because I can be harassing someone on reddit or going to the bathroom and I can still grow hair with undiminished vigour.
I told the stylist that one liner from James C., one of my all time favourite coworkers at the big X. About 15 years ago, at work, I read something like, “Hair is a sexual signalling device” so I wrote all the coworkers that I liked a little email, asking what their hair says about them, and he said, “My hair stands straight up,” and it was the best joke ever because he didn’t swear or even say anything particularly rude but it SURE got the point across and it makes me helpless with giggles every time I recollect it. And that email would get me fired these days and I’m okay with that.
I want that turkey sandwich from Big Star with cranberry sauce for lunch, calice. If it’s as good as the number 27 I’ll be happy. If you charge twelve fifty for a sammich it had better be good, and that was superlative.
Fourteen kudos this morning including one from my third fave fanfic writer. So that was pleasant. I’m thinking of sending mOm a variant of the drunk on the beach story (I ended up writing THREE VERSIONS OF A SINGLE STORY – I wrote one version in word (I never do that) and LOST IT LIKE WHOOSH INTO THE ETHER WHAT IN THE ENTIRE FUCK and then rewrote it, and then rewrote it again to be even more sappy. BABY GOATS BRINGING THE RINGS TO THE GROOMS AT A WEDDING NOOOOO. Actually not but the idea of a baby goat gambolling down the aisle at an outdoor wedding and then running off with the rings made me laugh so hard I put it in to troll one of the characters.
STOP WAR AND EAT POUTINE says the pic from a recent antiwar demo in Paris. Apparently Vladimir Poutine is what some convoyancers call Justin Trudeau.
Pierre Poilevre has a fortune of 9 million dollars – which he got pandering to oil companies – and it’s more than Trudeau has – and he’s speechifying about Trudeau being a rich elitist etc. Get bent Pierre and while so posed please do ram a caltrop through your scrotum, you’ll never be PM. Some people want Trump to run Canada But I Sure As Fuck Do Not.
scanged from WorkingClassHistory on Insta:
Women Anarchists have become the terror of world’s police – Their Daring Crimes are said to have outstripped the deeds of brothers of the red
Search for the woman is becoming a safe rule in crimes proceeding from anarchistic violence – the guardians of the world nearly always find a woman implicated when a ruler is stricken down – EMOTIONAL WOMEN LOSE SENSE OF FEAR.
yeah baby
200 hits 16 kudos on the story I posted yesterday. Absolutely terrible ratio, and it was a good story, nice and long. Fuck the world sez I.
and I’m putting the rest of my vile and hateful whining and the good stuff too behind a cut
Continue reading You think everything is fine tw family trouble
She has Miss Margot, Gizmo, Eddie, Zeek!, Kira and Bounce to keep her company. Paul said he’ll miss her head butts, and her little chirps, and her full body wriggles.
Paul’s grief stricken. I made him a light lunch and Jeff made him tea and we’re just being peaceful and mellow and unutterably sad at 2 pm. (we then watched a documentary about the Concorde and SST and a Hudson and Rex). Now it’s 5:30 and Paul is going home. His blood pressure is troublingly high and I told him to go to hospital but likely he won’t.
There’s more than one thing to be worried about. I left a message with Katie and wrote out the numbers for him and he put them in his wallet.
I will have none whenever I’m done
pleasantly cynical isn’t the style
so I’ll
resurrect a ‘childhood horror’
Nobody knows but me
It isn’t your burden to bear
Nobody knows but me
And, fuck it all, I’m gonna share
in the first years of my teenhood
abysmally utterly greenhood
I lie each night and the bedbugs that bite
are mushroom clouds and Auschwitz crowds
that aren’t just a sigh in a closet
history runs we can’t pause it
but I do not want to be in it
not even for one single minute
If it’s like that
_______________________________________________________
and it’s like that again
If Putin is blowing up dreams in Europe
I now have three questions to ask
when did I notice and when did I act
Is history now Putin’s tale to redact
I for one think that the world’s on the brink
while reliving my childhood terror
unattached to the foregoing::
during the writing of this poem my daughter called me laughing and joking with Alex, they’re doing spelling homework and using it as an opportunity to work the spelling words into song parodies (‘scale’ into “Sail” for example, and to register the Allegra contextual impact you have to know that this song was part of our morning warmup tape when we had the shop). . .and I couldn’t respond properly. In addition to this on going mood I’m in, I have a 24 hour blood pressure cuff on and it KEEPS TURNING ITSELF OFF which is not assisting my apocawyptic bwoodings. I’m migraining as well, horrific multicoloured jagged swirls mostly in the left side of my visual field.
Just got it out of the library; open it with anticipation. Three pages in I’m like I AM IN THE WRONG BOOK. I don’t care about this. I don’t care about this character. I don’t like how it’s written. I blame Putin. I probably would have loved this book if I’d started two weeks ago.
Anyway it won all the awards and every single human being I know who reviewed it adored it and I’m like WHYYYYY
It’s terrible. The Russians are being indiscriminate with the bombings, but so are the Saudis and the Americans right now. The hypocrisy is thick as jam, and as sticky.
I think the next stage in my psychosocial development with respect to politics is to really examine how I am untrue both to my grandfather’s approach to other human beings, which should, since he was gentle and helpful, be a guide to me, and to my sparse and weedy ethics, infested as they are with my own version(s) of gender essentialism, ableism and libertarianism, not necessarily in that order on any particular day, and I’m sure in almost 20 years of doing this I’ve revealed enough of my other bigotries to hang myself twice, were such things possible.
I mean if I’m going to bust it back to first principles. Is it a material universe – the commonality of detectible ‘reality’ – or is it an imagined and engineered projection, taking place in real-time, or is it a natural phenomenon which one can interrogate without ever knowing the full truth of, or is it God’s Creation, or (all the Creation gods’ names)’s Creation or something else entirely? I mean, I know which way I play it, every time, but is it a material universe? Should it make a difference? Should I be ashamed that the best argument I’ve seen for it NOT making a difference was from Buddy, in Free Guy? Anyway, can’t have a philosophy without taking that one one.
Sorry about the late post, I had yet another disturbed night of sleep and when I went back to sleep I slept late, it’s now almost 10 am.
2249 words on story thus far. I think I’ll try and go back to finishing the landslide one.
Yesterday was wonderful.
We went to breakfast at IHOP (it was deserted), came back here for some TV. Paul called and we went for a walk in Fraser Foreshore (I masked, he didn’t, I drove) and I took my camera, secure in the knowledge and belief that I WOULD GET PICS for my mOm, and I sat in the appointed place at close to the regular hour, and Paul and I couldn’t even hear the tweety birds, let alone see them.
Much abashed, I trudged back to the car, grousing in a desultory way at Paul, and then I saw one of the other unofficial feeding stations and put down a handful of non salted raw Styrian sunflowers and next thing I know, there’s a chickadee in the bush on the other side of the trail making the excited food song, which is the same as their regular song but buzzier, louder and with an extra DEE in there. I had put away the camera.
So I got my disney princess moment, but didn’t get a picture. BIRDS YOU ARE ANNOYING. But cute.
CW Picture of Tom Lunderville; Paul and I went to Peggy’s after that, to pick up the hat that I gave Tom after wearing it for a while. Now I’m getting it back again. He ruint the crown but I’ll reblock it. We got tea and soup. We chatted for a long time. She’s in relatively good shape all things considered and coping as best she can with how different her life is now. We talked about Ukraine a bit.
We left to go pick up my library book from the main branch of New West Library (‘this is how you lose the time war’) and then came back to Geekhaus to eat – soup Peggy gave us and borscht and lentil soup. I also showed Paul some of the stuff online that I’ve been telling him about Ukraine.
Then I ran a couple of loads of laundry and napped and cleaned out the microwave. It was a lovely sunny day, and I’m glad I wrote about it, because I was happy yesterday and I needed a reminder.
As you may or may not be aware Russia Today is a propaganda arm of the Russian state, responsible for (among other things) many of the ‘articles’ which got the honkies in Ottawa and elsewhere so upset. Alexey Kovalyov of Meduza told the workers there to grab everything ‘data’ they can before they quit. (Russia warring on Ukraine caused some of them to rethink their positions, lol.)
The tune is a modification of ‘Take a Nap’
One little thumb drive
Maybe two
Journos, all I ask of you
Before you quit
That den of shit
Load ‘em up
‘Splode ‘em up
Get a grip on it
Because ‘Russia Today’
Is Putin’s propaganda
And it’s no slanda
And it is NOT okay
Screen caps click click click
Before you wander
Over yonder
Download every file that you can grab
And then you blab
To Meduza
And they can tell the world!
(And hopefully keep you out of it.)
PS he’s noodleremover2017 on Telegram
Walked yesterday morning with Jeff to get my prescriptions yesterday and also to pick up Vitamin C and more probiotics (I ran out and I was NOT HAPPY AMIDSHIPS.) All my laundry is put away. I have no idea what I’ll do today but I am not feeling like writing, I can tell you that much. I may make chicken tenders for breakfast, since we have honey mustard sauce.