twice this morning he’s assaulted me, once with his claws and once with his body weight it isn’t even six am lawks HE WANTS PETS and I am hiding in my bedroom because he’s ranggy af
Category: Writing
doc today
137/82 is very happy making for me. I need to go get stabbed and squished, I dunno, but I managed to winkle six months of scrip out of her. I live in a goddamned earthquake, urban forest fire and flood zone, if my medicine keeps reasonably well and is non-narcotic I don’t see why I shouldn’t get it six month increments.
Alas my cholesterol is too high. Please oh great she elephant I do not want to give up dairy; life comes perilously close to not being worth it as it is. The big thing is stirring my stumps every day, which I have to anyway since this fucking house seems to be made out of stairs and the tv is always downstairs whereas the food, unfortunately, is always upstairs, unless I forgot to bring my plate back upstairs, in which case it’s downstairs.
I told the doctor my weight is stable at 200 pounds, why in christ’s name would I diet. Hauling my fat around
hey what did you call my brain
is the only exercise I get, although my knees and ankles would love it if the gravity eased up.
Why yes I do have an opinion on every subject, including an occasional strong presentiment that I should keep my typing hands in my pockets or perhaps choose other subjects.
I have composed a couple of short melodies on the circle of bongs, as I am referring the pan drum I purchased yesterday. It is bongulous; it is full of bongs. It is not quite tuned properly, which means that in sensitive people it will trigger intense unease. Possibly fetal posturing or homicidal rage. I don’t intend to play with it indoors, unless I’m practicing at home; I want people to be able to escape from it. I personally am enjoying it, and it’s certainly making my tinnitus seem even more choppy and insectoid than usual. I am enjoying striking it with mallets. One can get effects by ‘drifting’ the rubber mallet heads. Yes, this is me having fun.
I am going to edit for the next two weeks and stop trying to write things.
Dunnett group and instrument acquisition
Interesting. mOm you may find this diary entry provokes some feels about HTW and how he had v. progressive views.
Dunnett meet at the Sandbar on Granville Island was absolutely wonderful; met a woman I felt like I’ve known my whole life, and she’s moving from the bay area to Bellingham in MAY!!! Good news for me anyway – I told her about the Unitarian outfit there and she told me about the Bellingham ukelele orchestra. Then we all mocked Bellis Fair Mall, which, being an American mall constructed in 1988 which I drive by every time I go to Seattle and NEVER ENTER, is extremely mockable, and turns out anyone who’s been there feels the same way. She’s been to Findhorn twicet! She told me I look younger than 61! Jan wasn’t there but Ingrid and Cheryl and Rob were.
Anyway I had shrimps and scallops and they were so goddamned good words can’t cover it. I did NOT have alcohol, for once; I had raspberry lemonade instead. In consequence, I felt better and did not muck up my digestion. Trip home was dented by wetsuweten protesters, who’ve been fucking up Vancouver for days.
Then I bought a pan drum – think a portable (not fantastically…) steel drum. I shall forward a sound file later, mOm.
This is me with baby Yoda earrings.
brief convo
All I get of Alex this weekend is a tiny chat on the phone as he’s driving home from shopping with his mama.
another song for fawm
The Standard of the Crow (Thorfinn’s Song)
When you’re really in it
As deep as you know how to go
There’s no end, once you begin it
Thorkel had to teach you so
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
For no matter how far down you go
You must rise, refreshed, for battle
And stand under the standard of the crow
Pull the axe from my stiffened hands
There was a lot of blood, not all from my side
I am good at killing men
If you follow, you’d better ride.
It’s not wise to ask them
Folks seeking comfort are rarely wise
The seer told me I’d win half the battle
And mocked me for my doubting eyes
It’s a dream, my heart rattled
I saw her eyes, like oxblood on snow
Hers the first face that I’m seeking
Standing on my stirrups, under the wing of a crow
Pull the axe from my stiffened hands
There was a lot of blood, not all from my side
I am good at killing men
If you follow, you’d better ride.
She has an errand, seaward
I died on land like an aging fool
And she will make my goodbye for me
make herself a young king’s school
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
Knowing that life goes on, just so
But she made it through one last battle
And still stands under the standard of the crow
8:55 am 11 Feb the tune is very slowly stabilizing
8:15 Sunday September 13 2020 this is the stabilized lyricset
The Standard of the Crow (Thorfinn’s Song)
When you’re deep down in it
As deep as you know how to go
There’s no end, once you begin it
Thorkel had to teach you so
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
For no matter how far down you go
You must rise up for the next battle
And stand under the standard of the crow
Pull the axe from my stiffened hands (40 miles a day, oh)
There was a lot of blood, not all of it mine (riding in the rain oh)
I am good at killing men (make a joke, run him through, oh)
If you would follow, you’d better ride. (ride ride ride, oh)
It’s not wise to ask them
Folks seeking comfort are rarely wise
The seer told me I’d win half the battle
And mocked me for the doubt in my eyes
It’s a dream, my heart rattled
I saw her eyes, like oxblood on snow
Hers the first face that I’m seeking
Standing on my stirrups—-under the flag of a crow
Pull the axe from my stiffened hands (40 miles a day, oh)
There was a lot of blood, not all of it mine (riding in the rain oh)
I am good at killing men (make a joke, run him through, oh)
If you would follow, you’d better ride. (ride ride ride, oh)
She has an errand, seaward
I die on land like an aging fool
She will make my goodbye for me
make herself a young king’s school
It’s a dream, it’s a trap
Knowing that life goes on, just so
But she made it through one last battle
Stands under the standard of the crow
final editing for Sweep off those Waves has commenced
There’s a Dunnett event today. Interestingly, the only two men who will be there are an sf bookstore manager and a lawyer. I suppose I will have to make mention of my novels, won’t I.
opprobrium
standing on the balcony at the Aerie — just had a hummingbird park two feet off my nose and address me with three short sharp chirps, which, freely translated, meant, “Where is the hummingbird feeder, hand ape!?”
also, and who cares, but my latest story on A03 has an eleven percent kudo rating, which is the highest I’ve ever experienced, even though the traffic is low <200 readers
pigs in mud cake DAMN I’M SNACCKY
![[Homemade] Pigs in Mud cake](https://i.imgur.com/5bn9jJXl.jpg)
This is how bees structure their honeycombs when the beekeeper forgets to put frames in (cooling!)
this is a really really weird found poem
SO I MERGED two of ‘the 500 most common words in English’ lists. and then sorted alpha – the type was two different sizes and weird gaps formed in parts of it. Word duplications are deliberate. WHY because I’m working on inventing a language which merges the sounds that a basketball makes when it’s shot through a hoop with the more bizarre English phonemes.
sigh
Mike Pence just hinted that Trump intend to abolish the position of the Speaker of the House. I don’t like Pelosi much but what the fuck.
I got the most wonderful comment on the fic I posted day before yesterday. (Like REALLY NICE I AM FLOATING ON AIR.) mOm you can expect that in your inbox.
content warning ableist language use of the word idiot, ripped away from its original eugenic roots
It’s Hard Working For Idiots
is the name of this song
Lorrie Morgan wrote “What Part of No Don’t You Understand” a modern classic if ever there was one, and I filked it as subtly as I could
Somebody asked me to do this for FAWM
Sir if you don’t mind I’d rather be alone
From the moment I walked in today
You’ve been gassing on
If I’ve told you once I’ve told you twice
Got shit here to unwind
I’m not interested in chatting or
What you have in mind
What part of no don’t you understand
To put it plain and simple
I can’t make physics bend
I’ll be glad to explain it
If it’s too hard to comprehend
So tell me what part of no
Don’t you understand
It was sincere, our chat, and the
plaque was nice of you
I don’t mean to be so mean
But I don’t think I’m getting through
No I don’t need this company
You won’t get a second chance
So what part of no don’t you understand
What part of no don’t you understand
To put it plain and simple
I can’t make physics bend
I’ll be glad to explain it
If it’s too hard to comprehend
So tell me what part of no
Don’t you understand
Just so it’s clear, Lorrie Morgan owns that, I’m borrowing it for the purposes of fair use but since I don’t own it I can’t give it away. capisce?
This is a true picture of me and Katie having breakfast at IHOP
ancient seeds
I’ve been told today to be ‘bold and dangerous’ in my writing. I do not feel this advice.
this is just a test (bones of a new song)
This is just a test!
No, of course not.
You don’t have to.
You don’t need to say it.
Not if you don’t feel it.
You embody it, that’s all.
The way you hold me
kiss me
pass me pepper
bring me coffee
(five long beats) disagreeeeee with me
throw popcorn at me
throw your arm around me
This is just a test!
(Think that clunky 80’s 86 bpm dance beat)
Just a test
In all the fuss and fury
Just a test
of modern life it comes
Just a test
no speed but hurry
Just a test
no percussion but taiko drums
when performing romance
Just a test
a pirouette or two
Just a test
you line out a paraph (note, you can pronounce it either way, I prefer
second syllable emphasis)
on your paragraph
mess it up
with a pedestrian ‘I love you’
Now maybe once in fifteen
Just a test
years I get those magick words
Just a test
Mostly unforeseen
Just a test
it comes out like a blurt
Just a test
I get to wondering
Just a test
Is it really real
but I’m a materialist baby
I’m all about the way you make me feel
extremely horn and reed-intense instrumental, including a bass line that makes you want square up conga style and wend your way through the neighbourhood
This is just a test!
No, of course not.
You don’t have to.
You don’t need to say it.
Not if you don’t feel it.
You embody it, that’s all.
The way you hold me
kiss me
pass me pepper
bring me coffee
(five long beats) disagreeeeee with me
throw popcorn at me
throw your arm around me
This is just a test!
obviously I updated it. The instrumental part is coming along fine, it will all be kazoos very pleased with it so far. Only 13 more songs to write for the end of the month ha ha
Earthquake Tourists
Earthquake Tourists (animated film idea) (mOm I already sent this to you so if it seems familiar that’s why)
Fyza is the orang
Safeer is the bonobo
Millie is the gorilla
Freed by an earthquake, they leave the botanical garden they temporarily live in as they await transfer to a new national park in the tropics. Fyza will be freed – the other two will be in a permanent display with a large enclosure, but they’ll still be locked up, which we learn as the camera pans over a notice tacked next to the glass of their shared enclosure.
They wander through the apocalypse, calmly sitting down to denude a copse of fig trees and fill themselves at a pond at the beginning of the film so they are neither starving nor thirsty for the in-city action. Also, sadly, this fills their digestive tracts with nasty shit quite literally since they gorge to calm themselves. (During the course of the movie all three of them take memorably timed and placed shits.) Safeer eats the least, being freaked out by the smoke and fire and noise and humans, the other two go to town and just don’t pay attention to anything else.
They smell another ape “Binky”, and find that a banker has an illegal menagerie in his house, which he has abandoned. Fyza, who carries a piece of metal in her mouth for the duration of the movie – which she uses for many other purposes – frees the young male chimp, who becomes hostile and leaves. Safeer thinks of going with but reconsiders. There is then a comic scene of animal on animal liberation, resulting in the crushing and death of one of the lizards, which Safeer mourns, then eats. Safeer wants to stay put because there’s a food supply and she and Fyza have a shrieking fight. Finally Fyza stuffs a backpack full of primate chow and hands it to Safeer and leaves. Safeer thinks about it and follows, dragging the packsack, to comic effect (a stray dog, freaked out and whining for its family, benefits from the chow bouncing down out of the smoke). The three continue until they reach the Golden Gate bridge. A fantastical and death defying climbing sequence follows and finally Fyza sees the patch of green she thinks will be the safest place to go, and climbs down to lead her friends there. She kisses the bridge as she gets off it repeatedly and to great comic effect.
They make their way with other adventures (they help a broke family get diapers, they stop two assaults) to the green patch of ground where they are tranquilized and put small cages, and finally flown to their final destinations. The last thing you see of that scene is Fyza transferring the piece of metal into Millie’s unconscious mouth.
Two months later in Papua New Guinea, Fyza comes back to rescue her friends, and the two of them slip off into the jungle with their leader. Fyza gets her piece of metal back from Millie, who makes quite a show of how happy she is to be rid of it. The last thing you see is Fyza teaching her pals how to get at the best bits of a fruit.
Giri Haji is not a show about Japanese gagsters
I am liking this show SO MUCH AND WE ONLY HAVE ONE EP LEFT wail
Did you know coyotes and badgers have been known to hunt together? There’s video on the internet that looks like the first shot of a movie. Further pics.
Romance
Romance is powerfully rooted in autonomic processes. oNe wishes it were not so, but it is. The idea that there’d be a professional class of person setting courtship fashions while trying to navigate the vagaries of the human sexual response under medieval Catholicism amuses me, but along with lots of other worthy contributions to letters, that’s what troubadours were. And in the west we’re stuck with it and the cultural knock-ons, and I vacillate wildly between loving a lot of it and wanting to wring its neck and gut it and singe it in preparation for the soup pot.
When I’m writing fanfic, I’m addressing romance as a way of approaching pair-bonding (unless I’m writing specifically polyamorous fic) and writing it the way I want people to behave. yanno…. Like fucking adults who occasionally lose their phones or drop the groceries. I try not to write more trouble than people need, and to write the characters as if they all have some expectation of, and agency in, making their own situations better, sometimes by taking an overt and possibly impolite interest in someone else’s troubles as a substitute for dealing with their own as an emotional way station to their own self-regulation.
For that is the dream, the magical reset button of romance. Not that love will last forever, that part’s easy. The renewal of romance is in how you can see yourself again, young and overwhelmed and sappy, but also that this love brings with it your idea of yourself as contented and working with another person on your self-improvement. These are all mental states far beyond the sexual arousal (in most although not all cases) that gets you to pair bonding (because pair bonding without sexual behaviour is also a lasting component of human life, and takes a lot of different forms.) My point is that romance is complicated, and if you want it to look like all of human life on this planet, rather than taking, for example, whiteness or being able bodied for granted, it gets more complicated still. The functioning pair bond implies a mutual commitment to self-improvement as a joint project, and when two individuals work hard on that, something more beautiful than romance occurs. They are stabilizing the world for everyone around them.
I could say more, but I’m happy with what I’m thinking.