Oh good god at least this last batch wasn’t heart attack snow, it was fluff, because it’s now quite cold and drafty. I won’t be going to Victoria tomorrow as promised because the wind, snow and weather for Wednesday are, according to Environment Canada, pretty much up for grabs. There will be snow, there will be arctic outflow and there will be wind, but no one can say exactly how much and where between here and Victoria
I’m not, it would be appropriation and I’m not kin, but mentally, one can. Four more fucking inches of heart attack snow may Loki quit sending his dandruff.
I used to be able to believe words, and now I only trust people. – Jesse, in HOTM
Wow, the shit’s coming out about Mike Resnick. I thought he was one of the good guys and holy penguin poop he made so much trouble for young sf writers who aren’t betesticled and pink.
I’m almost looking forward to my father’s death, (and before you all make like vacuum pumps and suck all the air out the room, wait for the rest of it and please remember that my sense of humour could never be as bleak as my pOp’s) as woman after woman steps forward and says, “He was the best boss I ever had,” and “He never treated me with anything but respect.” And I get to tell my ‘Daddy was a feminist’ anecdotes, buttressed by things his mother told me.
There’s a gal up early reading philosophy in Toronto and she loves her dog even more today because he does not cavil when she’s up at three swearing because she doesn’t understand it. True story from twitter! I mean, when I’m having shit that way I start with the translation, if there is one, and try to figure out what’s happening with the deeply confusing parts with a word by word and then a really deep dive into the word meanings that are tripping me up. For if your philosophically assigned reading chum is trying to woo a great chain of logic into your delicious, masticatable brain and you’re having trouble, start with the words and run a furrow through them with a dictionary (of course philosophy has words of art, beware, beware) but that will give you not merely understanding, but the means to overturn an argument that doesn’t suit you.
Shit, I thought that was the enTIRE point of philosophy? It isn’t?
It’s raining now, but yesterday it snowed almost 15 cm here and I had to shovel and salt twice (not that we get Friday mail delivery in Burnaby anyway). There are wind and snowfall warnings in effect (again) for the lower Mainland today. So…. more of the same, except this time it’s Jeff’s turn to shovel.
John Boyega made a miniature film of him kicking racist tweets aside and cutting them in half with lightsabers and it is fiery.
We’re probably going to watch the last episode of S2 of Ultraviolet today…. we enjoy it so much. Even if we want to completely rewrite the srt (subtitle) files sometimes.
Katie took me out to breakfast. I’ll record that conversation privately. All well, just, you know. Thrawn.
described photo: Shown below, a strip mall end unit faced with beige brick and beige angelstone, with a yellow sign bearing ONLY FANS in red. Ceiling fan / light fixtures are turned at 90 degrees in the window and look like white flowers with illuminated stamens.
Not a place you want to start shit, I assure you.
There are a lot of chicken keepers on my feed and this is wonderful and please go to Jay Eaton’s Patreon for more.
and then this at Hart House…
and I’d rather be immobile… Pastry bugs!
yes they are grubs you can eat because they are cake
Later we did leave the house, once for brekky and once for a quick shop since we had no milk in the house, what a scandal.
I have received with thanks and amusement my pOp’s apology for inadvertently blocking many of my emails over the last n years. I have known for a considerable time that something warn’t right with that, but I have also known since before I could talk that I can communicate something to my mOm and she will effect translation, so it’s not like I was yelling into the void, or feeling dreadful about why my pappy warn’t always answering my emails. Plus there’s this hellish invention called a tel-e-o-phone, not that pOp answers it if anyone besides him is home. Also, some of them did get through, so who knows what the hell was going on there. Jeff fixed it, all is well, no harm done.
The long fucking day I am referring to is today, because Paul needs to rescue a vehicle from Bellingham (alternator failed on highway, yeeps yikes), and look at me all semi retired and what not and available for said shenanigans, to help him drive said vehicle back. Also tonight is the genre writers meetup and I would like to go to that. Whether I will have the energy when I don’t get a nap is another thing.
Also, I want to see how hard the border crossing is, in prep for the end of the month.
Border crossing less than five minutes both ways. All well, saw Keith’s work when we returned his car, got a Pho lunch, and as per Minimal daysigns saw an eagle on the way out and a heron on the way back (both over the highway, the eagle just north of White Rock and the heron where all the highways barf into each other at the north end of the Alex Fraser Bridge.)
AND I know where there’s a good garage in NW WA, being Sterling’s in Bellingham.
Now I nap for later.
And Alexis brought blueberry scones, and they are gone but were briefly magnificent, and she brought soap, as requested, so now I don’t have to spend 6 or 7 bucks on the fancy soap I want because I have handmilled French soap for FREE.
And Darwin got to see a buddy today, so it all worked out quite cunningly.
I have piteously complained on social media to my much travelled and jet lagged cousin Lexi that her talking about having too much soap has reminded me that I’m out of bar soap. (Jeff will confirm that I tried to buy bar soap on Thursday but it all smelled terrible so I passed.) She will be coming by today to DELIVER SOAP TO THE UNCLEAN how very er enlightened and generous, yeah, thass right.
This also stolen from Reddit.
I made rice & cabbage & peas with chicken in the Instant Post, and it stuck again, but the brown bits on the bottom taste amazing so I’m not sad. Had it for breakfast.
The fires in Australia are killing people, and the death rate from breathing problems will skyrocket over the next few months, I imagine. Have your grab and go back ready! Mother Nature isn’t fucking about.
Absolutely no writing, but I’m plugging away at JS Grewal’s the Sikhs of the Punjab.
Settlers and white people have to move, restore, repair. My shame and contrition in publicly admitting my special bubble of being white in Canada is a sweet breeze compared to the hot sting of daily outbursts of racism by other white women and they *won’t do the work.* It’s SO ANNOYING and it’s me five years ago and so I can’t make with the angry too hard. WHAT IS THE CORRECT MINDSET between balancing ‘recent convert’ status and trying to yoink intelligent people into having a look at their basic assumptions using only the choicest arguments under the best circumstances.
You have to be done with all that householder stuff before you can think on spiritual stuff and whether or not you’ve done that changes your point of view. Katie is upset with how slow her spiritual going is and sheesh kabobbers kid you’re raising someone, it’s time consuming because hey capitalism. Also you spend way more time cleaning up after your sibling and father than you should.
Maybe I will see the boy tomorrow.
In the meantime, Katie and I got out of the house and had breakfast and did a mini shop.
what an unlikely critter
I’m not crazy about this rainy windy weather. Poked around editing yesterday, wrote maybe 20 new words. I keep expecting a lift in my spirits so I can get back to writing and the news ruins it. I thought the wind had dropped but it’s gusting hard.
At this time, right now, I want to shelve Honey on the Moon. I understand what’s wrong with the book, but I can’t fix it until certain conditions are in place, which aren’t. And I can’t talk about it here, because it isn’t the appropriate venue, and for love and money I can’t find the right one.
aw well nobody expects a creative life to be particularly easy.
scanged off reddit
I’d like to believe that the senior military officers of the US of A are too smart to help Trump start a nuclear war on accident but no, I guess I don’t. I’ve sent a message of support to the one person I know well who’s Irani.
Yesterday I slept most of the day, probably because the day before yesterday involved a lot of walking and talking, and I’m not as moveable a feast as I used to be.
Have you ever noticed that rich white men like hiding in with poor Black, Indigenous and settler men when they’re trying to make a shitty shitty shitsome rhetorical point? Because without sorting this chart for racial data it’s just MRA barf in a data-is-beautiful branded tote.
It will probably disappear but here is the original.
This looks like men are worse off in every way than women. AND ABSOLUTELY, A LARGE NUMBER OF BLACK MEN ARE WORSE OFF THAN A LARGE NUMBER OF WHITE WOMEN by any number of standards.
Also, and this is the part that’s interesting, every single legislature in the US is majority run by men, and yet they keep passing legislation that does nothing to address how there is a permanent, underhoused, overjailed, brain damaged and mostly black and immigrant underclass in the US… as demonstrated by this.
check and mate assholes
Went to the Spit at the Wicklow, which was absolutely bloody marvellous. Remember me grousing about feeling left out, weeeeelllll they saved me a seat ‘at the end with the sf fans’ and gosh if that didn’t snap me right outta the doldrums It was a lovely convo with Cheryl and Rob and DEE’S SON WAS THERE I haven’t seen him or heard of him since like 15 years ago – you know the part of my blog which I just transferred over here – and HE asked to be remembered to Keith, because they were both teenaged anime fans together, so that was all lovely. He remembered Keith as kind and welcoming, what kind of a horrible thing is that for a mother to hear. /end smirk
The burger and salad was fantastic. Seriously that was the best restaurant burger ever, Dean would have been ecstatic with it although almost for shore he would have said they could have toasted the bun longer. I had two ‘fat tugs’ and my liver’s ‘banding’ this morning. I shouldn’t drink but I was with friends on New Years Day and we laughed our asses off, it was so much fun.
Then hugs all ’round and off to Al’s place for his new years levee, and I talked to two delightful migrants to our shores by the name of Oscar and Roman and the first white woman born in Yellowknife hospital whose name I can pronounce but not spell so let’s just say it was an interesting, broad and convivial gathering. When I was t minus 90 minutes and collapsing I thanked our host and booked it, right into this.
Obviously I went for speed rather than composition and then half a block later ALL THAT COLOUR WAS SUBSUMED into a pinky gold stripe and another half block later it was gone. Normally these photos don’t give you any idea of the slash o’ glory that is purple, pink and gold, but it was a lot like that
GRAB IT while you can.
I was supposed to go to Mike’s but I didn’t have a key on me and so I went home. Jeff and I watched some TV, Mike called back and now I’m here, listening to the ‘normal day’ traffic sounds winding up into rush hour. He fed me chicken and shrimp and salad and oven baked tiny taters and so I had two fantastic meals.
Watched about half of the Martin Scorscese Rolling Thunder Revue. Bob Dylan is a weirdo. Scarlet Rivera isn’t Hispanic. Allen Ginsberg really knew how to dance and chased straight teenage boys. There’s a lot of 16 mm performance footage which is great. The entire thing is fictionalized so you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, which completely sucks, especially when so many of the people involved were fakes to begin with. Not recommended unless you do drugs first.
I just want to say my hips really hurt right now.
Some fucker was setting off bangers for about half an hour straight last night, I hope it was worth it, asshole.
Me? SNORE. I could have gone to Mike’s but it was kinda last minute so we moved it to tonight. Today I spit with the other spitters (Dorothy Dunnett crowd) at the Wicklow and then off to Al’s (I met him through Lorraine Murphy yonks ago) for his new years day Levée. And THEN to Mike’s. I imagine I’ll be exhausted by the time I get there. Typical of my life for as long as I’ve been alive. A whole buncha nothing for months at a time and then all of my socializing gangs up in one day.
Watched the Two Popes yesterday, and really enjoyed it even if it’s the most incredible vaseline on the lens billet doux to the Catholic Church.
Coffee’s on, day’s begun. I’ll be leaving around 11 and not getting home until tomorrow I imagine.