swithering

Dishwasher is running thanks to me, tea is seeping thanks to Jeff, and I just realized that I didn’t get my goddamned bloodwork done because I was about to go in to Lifelabs and I got an email that Tom is sick and it literally (THANKS FOR NUTHIN ADD and also may I just mention that not getting a fucking email reminder of your pending requisition from the doctors office doesn’t exactly fucking help even if you don’t have ADD) knocked doing that out of my mind. So I must must do that today. Which means I have to walk over to 6th and 10th anyway, maybe I can mail the 9 page (large print) letter I wrote to Mary over the last week, and pick up a coffee for Jeff on the way back since he was hankering for one.

weather is frickin GLORIOUS  I mean seriously.

I have a list as long as my hair (which reminds me, I need to tie it up again or Jeff’s going to be spitting out my hairs reproachfully while watching tv as they drift over his face (sometimes he goes GAAAH and flaps his hands because it’s like having a spider web land on you and then OH THE REPROACHFUL LOOK)) and slightly more motivation than yesterday for attacking it. More laundry, working on Finale writing down songs and messing with the voicing, tidying up the music/guest room, working on a couple of new fanfics, responding to Tish’s letter, actually reading the rent increase notice and diarizing it. A small fraction of the goo sticking to me.

I have subscribed to the NYT for a year, it was 1/20th the normal price so I actually thought that was fair. Jeff, it was the article about Jared Harris that made me subscribe, I am such a celebri-fluffer.

Crows called for food this morning, but I put out sunflower seeds instead of roasted unsalted peanuts so they are sulking. (later, there they go again. It’s four-call, whoever she is)

Keith has apparently had an excellent visit with the grandparents in Victoria. I’ll be meeting up with Paul at some point today to walk and possibly visit Tom and exchange stuff, since items keep migrating between our two households.

Jeff’s car is still in the krankenhaus. The problem can’t be replicated, so we’re beginning to think it’s bad fuel.

I think I have blown through yet another set of orthotics, so that’s going on the list as well. NO DO NOT WANT. I mean I want comfy feet but I do not want to spend 400 dollars even if my fOlks are underwriting it with my remittance woman stipend.

ADD meds day two. I AM ITCHY. Is it allergies? is it medication? LOL who knows. Much imitating of the Archer character Woodhouse saying in his crackly voice, “It’s going to be an itchy weekend.”

I bought some Red Racer Street Legal Pilsner and IPA for Paul so I have something festive to drink while I’m over there. Got some for myself as well. It’s about the equivalent of a piece of bread, for carbs.

I now have a nightgown for every night of the week. And okay, enough potchkeying around on my blog, I have to go have a phlebotomist stab me, baby.

quiet day

I don’t think I did anything about house today besides make tea and a salad and take my pills and a nice long nap. (I’m allowed to be tired when I’m tired, I’ve got Daim Branage. I worked on about half a dozen destiel fics, tidying mostly, getting names consistent, that kind of editable stuff. 9 words on one fic 318 on another, that kind of thing.

THEN around 6 the THUNDER started … for about an hour, every ten minutes or so there was the longest, most histrionical, excessive, over-the-top, can’t-stop-won’t-stop thunderclap you could imagine. Long pause and then explosion noise-overlaid with a helicopter landing on the house noise – overlaid with brO’s apparently epic fart from yesterday  – and then cannonades in the distance fading to a repetitive coda. Jeff and I were impressed as hell.

Watched Cry Macho, had no expectations of it being great, and enjoyed it because to my mind it was entertaining. Some of Eastwood’s reaction shots will live as memes long after he’s dead, I predict.

new story

2700 words (3192) (3516) (3945) of a new story so far. I just cannot stop writing stories about men being loving and supportive to each other; it’s not like it’s happening that much in real life so this is very powerfully fictional and massively therapeutic.

Other people’s fanfic complaint. ELICIT IS NOT ILLICIT. GAWDAM, PEOPLE.

It’s possible that graphomania is a migraine symptom. Given how weirdly distant from reality I’m feeling at the moment (sort of cotton woolley) it seems possible.

I printed off the Advanced Care Directive document / worksheet for Paul yesterday after our walk in the school park, and Katie called me last night and we had a chat and among other things she said Paul seems to be studying it. I marked my copy up quite a bit but I’m nowhere near done; I’ll talk to Jeff and the kids when I am done. Alex was burbling continuously in the background while we were talking.

Beautiful weather yesterday, perfect clear sunny almost fall day.

In the middle ages the places that maintained civil society better than others in Europe during the Great Pestilence were places where the notaries were allowed to do their jobs, and transfers of wealth happened in an orderly fashion. No comparison of course to what’s going on now.

Bunk/Wendell talks about Omar / Michael

Can a clothing store be racist.

Redneck Darwin.

And the worst part is that I have to fly two miles with it and then barf it up again

If you don’t like the post title, you won’t want to watch the video.

However if this was taken when they say it was the herons are off the nest already and mama heron’s keeping that ratshawarma for hersel’, she will not be casting up accounts for any babbies. NYC Great Blue Herons ARE METAL AF.

I’m 1300 (okay now 2028 words 2533 words I should close this tab) words into my third fanfic in 3 days WARNING GRAPHOMANIA IN PROCESS. La la la. So easy.

I say SCHNERK unto you

We managed to wait until this morning to finish Peggy’s apple tarts. Go restraint! I’m printing up a large print letter for Auntie Mary, including the usual curated funny picture from the internet. Laundry done but not ‘whisked’ upstairs.

We’ve started a Person of Interest rewatch.

Lousy night of sleep, I’m congested when I lie down and not if I’m prone or sitting up. I am SCHNERKING und SCHNERKING.

I’m suspecting Katie’s very busy, haven’t heard from her since the Victoria visit. It’s an observation not a complaint.

Lots of kudos and comments on my new stories last night so that was pleasant.

PLEASE BE KIND, PATIENT AND COOPERATIVE WITH RETAIL WORKERS TODAY AND EVERY DAY.

Big hugs for everybody reading this morning! As Allan Jaffee once remarked, “Serious people my age are dead.”

Finding my health

It’s worse this morning… both the rib and the dry cough. There is no way I’d be going to either Bowen or Mike’s in my current state. Time for a roasting hot shower and ta cough up a lung. When that’s not happening there’s a squeaky wheeze in there.

So if I’m watching comfort food TV, eating comfort food, doing laundry and writing fanfic who can be surprised. Posted another 2500 word story, 150 hits already so far, but fewer kudos. It isn’t funny, the way most of my stuff is, so maybe that has something to do with the ratio.

Next story up will probably be one of those cuddly funny stories; I just had to get the fix-it and parallel universe little stories out of my system first.

SHNERK oh make the mucus stop ROY KENT GRUNT

d’ohccasional randomness

This is a review of a book I want…. no probably need to read.

I have had a story added to a Destiel collection on AO3. I am absolutely thrilled and it means more people will read it. It’s 12500 words of fluffy and mildly porny madness that ends with an ILY scene at an airport. I also think it’s got some of the funniest dialogue of any of my stories. Email me if you want the link.

I stopped taking cough medicine at 11:30 last night to try to let it clear my system, but the crackling in my chest has come back. Low grade fever, productive cough, crashed appetite, really an effort to push fluids but I keep hearing mOm’s voice encouraging me to do that thing.

Buster scrapped with another cat THROUGH the cat door last night. I locked it and expected him to whine about it all night and he didn’t let out a peep until I woke at 8:30 this morning.

Left hand is still bruised but all the mobility is back and normal function has resumed. I am now thinking that I did crack a rib, but there would have been nothing that an ER doc could do but hand me a little envelope of T3s anyway after a chest xray in a freezing room so I really dodged 8 hours of ER time during the largest surge of infections in over a year. Knowing that Paul would have come with me is extremely comforting though. What a fine and life affirming thing it is to have friends.

Tom is closing the speaker shop (Halloween is the last day) and going on line! I may get work doing data entry loading skus. He was only in hopsital (deliberate typo) a day for the pneumonia and when I was talking to him on the phone today he was on the skytrain which means that Peggy is not actually driving him everywhere any more. Also that the phone call dropped three times before we gave up.

The only social media I’m on now is here, AO3 and Reddit. I’ve added 400 karma points in the last week alone so you can tell I’ve been busy. When Reddit gives me free awards I always use them within five minutes, usually for other women.

I can definitely state (from what I read on reddit, among other things) that feminism has lost big over the last 40 years. What a time to be alive.

ADDED LATER: SOMEBUNNY is running a jackhammer within a block radius and WOW what an annoying sound!

Leah Feldman AND Nestor Makhno

warning this gets weird

Here’s a bio: Leah Feldman who worked with Nestor Makhno. He stole my rellie’s watch, he won’t get his own page even if I read that dreffle book. (History of the Makhnovist movement.) (ALSO THIS ***IS*** HIS OWN PAGE, THIS POST IS ALMOST A THOUSAND WORDS LONG AND I HARDLY MENTION LEAH FELDMAN, WHO WAS A MENSCH.)

I almost want to translate it (History of the Makhnovist movement) into internet-friendly contemporary English ’cause the translation verbs the galactic noun into a state of noun. Why am I compelled to pay attention to him? is it because he was one of John’s special favourites?

check out the turgid first three paragraphs, administered first aid by yours truly in italics.

As the reader approaches this book (When you first pick up this book you’ll want to know, is this serious shit, or serious horseshit?) he will first of all want to know what kind of work this is: is it a serious and conscientious analysis, or a fantastic and irresponsible fabrication? Can the reader have confidence in the author, (Is the author tripping balls, or are the dates, facts and maps straight?) at least with respect to the events, the facts and the materials? Is the author sufficiently impartial, (Is he telling the truth with some understanding of his own biases) or does he distort the truth in order to justify his own ideas (and piss on his opponents?) – I went a bit off the rails there but I hope you can see why I’d want to rewrite the book in a light hearted and humorous vein.

These are not irrelevant questions. (This subject is important enough in terms of anarchist and world history that you should care if the author got it right. which is not a direct translation and couldn’t possibly be, this is a gloss.)

It is important to examine the documents on the Makhnovist movement with great discretion. (Good luck with that they’re all in Russian and Ukrainian and did anyone ever tell you that translations are political? yes they are.) The reader will understand this if he considers some of the characteristics of the movement. (THE READER IS A FUCKING GIRL and I’ll understand more if you blow less.)

a hunnert pages of this…. I have to finish Moloch and UPSUN’s HOTM before I even touch that as a side project, that seriously would be something I’d do in jail.

So I continued anyway…..

On the one hand, the Makhnovshchina (Mack NOV shin a)  [Makhnovist Movement.]  – an event of extraordinary breadth, grandeur and importance, which unfolded with exceptional force and played a colossal and extremely complicated role in the destiny of the revolution, undergoing a titanic struggle against all types of reaction, more than once saving the revolution from disaster, extremely rich in vivid and colourful episodes – has attracted widespread interest not only in Russia but also abroad.

EXCUSE ME while I enjoy someone who can put titanic and colossal in the same paragraph without even a hint of jocularity!

 

The story of the Macknovshchina is so powerful, colourful and historically important that interest in the story is not confined to Russia. Fascists and reactionaries hate its truths, deride its outlandish tales of luck, betrayal, revolutionary fervour and derring-do, and cast doubt on its morality, as well as that of Makhnov himself, in an effort to dislodge him and it from the collective memory. That’s mostly because he kept the fucking revolution alive along with his anarchist principles and when he diverged organizationally from the soviets, they didn’t want to be beholden or get into it ideologically so he had to go – and to the horror of those who loved him he ended up drinking himself to death in exile. But we’re not going to talk about that part of his life in this book, that’s for the Netflix series. NOW THEN, IS THAT NOT BETTER AND MORE USEFUL THAN THE TWO PARAGRAPHS I COMBINED INTO ONE ??? (ie the foregoing paragraph and this next one, which is clunkier than a 30 year old Corolla.)

The Makhnovshchina has given rise to the most diverse feelings in reactionary as well as revolutionary circles: from feelings of fierce hatred and hostility, of astonishment, distrust and suspicion, all the way to profound sympathy and admiration. The monopolization of the revolution by the Communist Party and the “Soviet” power forced the Makhnovshchina, after long hesitation, to embark on a struggle – as bitter as its struggle against the reaction – during which it inflicted on the Party and the central power a series of palpable physical and moral blows. And finally, the personality of Makhno himself – as complex, vivid and powerful as the movement itself – has attracted general attention, arousing simple curiosity or surprise among some, witless indignation or thoughtless fright among others, implacable hatred among still others, and among some, selfless devotion.

 

 

anyway you can understand why the project has some appeal, it’s essentially a complete gloss / rewrite, but it could really be fun. It’s also fanfic in a really hilarious way. Oh, oh, oh I just had a story idea.

I posted this in early January, and on the 18th I woke up from a sound sleep with THIS in my head

TTTO Battle Hymn of the Republic

Nestor Makhno stole my great great uncle’s watch
Nestor Makhno stole my great great uncle’s watch
Nestor Makhno stole my great great uncle’s watch
He sold it to buy beer (or guns, that works too)

 

Two Daves

Two letters written but not posted today; it’s a Two Dave day.

Jeff’s just asked me to go downstairs and watch a Time Team. Hope it’s something Saxon or Roman. L8r Nope, medieval and Tudor. But really interesting if you’re crazy about remodelling castles for successive waves of improvements in warfare, boom goes the gunpowder.

Alex was here recently and I’m just remembering him being happy about getting a tube shot on the Xenon game and it made me happy in consequence.

Buster was past damp into dripping wet, and filthy when he came back in this morning…. must be horrible to have to clean that crap off with your teeth and mouth blech.

Indian food delivered last night. I was very happy with the quality and quantity for the price. It’s a new place (8 months?)  that does pizza and Desi food Pasifika style, which is like, so Vancouver, it hurts.

Chuck Yeager, RIP. His autobiography is most entertaining.

Letter from Onty Mary, and I’m so glad she enjoyed the paper art I put in with a recent letter, that was cheering.

Today has been set aside for One Grim Task. I do not want this task. I do not want the cascade of tasks that will flow from this One Grim Task. I AM DISGUST, SON.

It’s 10:20 in the morning and I am still not nerved up for this gd task. I am actually hitting the old moral GPS for a recalc from my new position and fuck me if it’s not taking a bit longer than any reasonable person might expect. What is it that a reasonable person following Stoic principles might expect? I said I’d write first PHEW AN OUT, I HAVE AN OUT.

With that I must now turn my attention to the real writing I need to do today, otherwise known as Quarantine Porn. And that works whether I’m talking about the UPSUN universe or my rapidly-winding-down interest in writing porny Supernatural fanfic. (Not all of it’s porn, some of it’s just fluff.)

And if I’m not going to write that, I have to go back out into the kitchen and either work some more on The Dark Book – current section is “the Calendar” and it’s fucking MOLOCH this and MOLOCH that, as he drives his diesel dick through history and messes us all up, it’s just standard issue eschatology schlock, that’s part of the point of the poem though, disjointing the specifically English language over and past and through its various levels of inanity, legalism and perverse vagueness through to a new horrific understanding about what ‘end times’ actually means for the people living through it, and you are among those people, and what the hell is this poem anyway (this last aside for my parents, who have long since given up on trying to understand what it is I’m babbling about and reached this question much earlier) – or work on my master grocery list, and I finally figured how I can get what my grocery list looks like in my head to my actual grocery list that I use every week and reinforces how I visualize and operate in the world, but I haven’t done it yet. So I have work to do to advance this project, which will assist me cognitively as my brain declines and I’m still shopping, and which may have applications for other seniors and TBI sufferers. (I certainly wasn’t able to find anything like it on line.) So yeah, projects, in order, depending on what I’m up for mood and skill wize.

Yup, I’m going to wander off and reconfigure my reality right now, be back in a day for an update or sooner if something interesting happens.

One last thing, the ‘writing light’ in the kitchen died and I asked for help from Jeff  (my shoulder’s frozen…. that was weird, realizing it) and he touched the apparently dead compact fluorescent and it illuminated and it made me think of pOp. Also Jeff is quietly amazing, the best kind.

Tom’s coming home

How providential. Much labour from Peggy of course.

I have a master list of groceries and I just transferred six weeks of grocery lists over so the gaps were all filled in with … stuff that we eat in 2020 as opposed to the ramen and KD I was buying non stop 25 years ago….. Anyway, it was an interesting exercise, and I have to do it anyway, changing the list so there are no treats and fewer items which are now forbidden by the Congress of Kidneys, Liver, Pancreas and Digestive Tract.

16,616

two letters off today, a 2 pager off to Tom and a 2 pager off to mOm. Almost mailed my bank card off too, but

Paul has called wanting to go for a walk. I already mailed things and I’m enjoying a little patch of sun warming this corner of the world up so I’m resisting, resisting.

I wonder when Buster will scoot his ass across the kitchen rugs, now they’re nice and clean….

saddened

Tom’s back in hospital.

Yesterday I made a vegetarian dinner, ran and put away three loads of laundry, wrote 2400 words on a fanfic that I said was going to get shorter, practiced and didn’t nap. This resulted in me going to bed so early that I had to set my alarm to ensure that I didn’t sleep through taking my pill.

William Gillis on twitter this am:

Fascists don’t see nature as motherly and cities as masculine. They see nature as masculine (“red in the tooth & claw”, a return to savagery when men were men, etc), and cities as feminine (a degenerate, passive, overly complex focus on talking & mentality rather than action).

14,055

 

and now tea, Holy Crap cereal, and a little bit of an existential tremor as I contemplate how so many things can go wrong at once

not in my life, which remains delightfully quiet

two more days and I get to watch the Supernatural finale – I don’t know what to hope for and I’m staying as passive as I can about it. As I remarked to NorthernSparrow, we’ll always have fanfic.