Just shy of the half way point

It will be so full of ideas, fun characters, crazy action and snappy dialog that no one will notice it has no plot.  (Of course it has a plot, I just don’t care about that part).   And if I follow the Dunnett Plan, a plot is just a way to get me from one awesome set piece to the next; those parts of the story that you go back and re-read because they are so funny, or mysterious, or moving, or scary or just plain action-packed.

1000 words yesterday. I can’t see the floor to my room, and I don’t care. Write every day while the world burns?  Same as it ever was.  I’ve gotten through every bad day before.

This is a completely different kind of February.  I’m used to feeling blah, and I don’t.

I wonder if I can get Jeff to take me shopping when he wakes up, there’s not anything I want to eat in the house right now.



Margot just nosed her way into my room; which reminds me, I have to get on my hands and knees and wipe all her eye goop off the doors and walls in those places she normally stands.  She has a rip roaring case of ephoria, brown watery eyes.

Her breathing has been a little more stertorous of late.  She’ll be better when she is coming and going through her little cat door again.

Today, writing, practicing, seeing the floor of my room.


My libertarian facebook friend is running for office in South Carolina.  His campaign colours are pink and purple, and his slogan is a variant on “I’m only running so I have someone to vote for”.  I’ve offered to buy beer for the campaign workers after the election, which is the only way I can help without offending US campaign funds rules.

I think pOp would like this guy.

Today, I am having to generate at least 1500 words about a character who has been introduced but not explained.  Why would an alien be stuck with an intermittently appearing holographic human skeleton?  It’s a poser.  I am almost inclined to leave it as an unsolved mystery.  but I won’t.  Don’t show the gun unless you are going to use the damned gun!

Anti racism meeting / workshop went very well. Next meeting the Indian Act.

I want to buy some fish and cook it up for lunch.

I have love in my life, food and tea in my tummy, and last I checked the sun is shining and the world’s a better place than it was yesterday.

Quick post

Made word count this morning. I am very dependent on my mOm’s encouragement.  Managed to make my way through the death scene without imploding.

Anti racism workshop today.

My meal at IHOP was so grisly I didn’t have to pay for it.

True Detective, a new HBO show, is very good.  Matthew McConaughey is REVELATORY.  Who knew he could act!???? Not the same dude as Sahara, that’s for sure.

sadly, didn’t make wordcount

But it was a productive day in other ways.  I dealt with some more of the fallout from the shop, paid all my bills and figured out how much I owed Jeff for the last two months here; saw Katie and got some smoking hot and unrepeatable gossip from her which caused the two of us to fall about the kitchen laughing, an event much desired by me anyway; practiced for an hour, tucked away some more laundry, hosed down the gear I took to church on Saturday and put it away, dealt with Margot’s eyegunk and arranged a second phone interview for Wednesday.  I still managed to grind out 500 words on two separate sections, but I didn’t get that bit in the teeth feel.  I blame the weather, when really it’s all on me.

Jeff’s wanting me to be more restrained in what I feed him, so it was oatmeal this morning.



mud mud glorious mud

I still can’t believe I slept through church yesterday.  Honestly, I got up when church was already over.  I was just so TIRED.  I guess the February blahs are doing their thing, finally. The hell of it is, I feel cheerful most of the time.  Not a big smiley face Hi How Are You kind of cheerful, just, I’m doing okay and enjoying life, thanks.  Also, wearing pirate clothes to church always cheers me up.

I did make word count yesterday.  Only 70 thousand more words to go! April 15th is my current deadline for a first draft.

Did I mention I had a phone interview on Friday?  I am still looking hard for work, but it’s hard when the work isn’t looking hard for me.

And here’s a muddy pangolin.



We need a new calendar

Jeff and I were looking at the various shows we’re watching, and how we’re getting the content in all kinds of different ways.  Is it on the PVR? Do we buy it, rent it, Netflix it?  When do we get it?  It’s actually getting quite complex.

Warehouse 13 is back April 14!  House of Cards is back again and President Obama has announced to the twitterverse, “no spoilers, pls.”  This made me laugh quite immoderately.

I took Jeff for breakfast this morning.

Laundry is underway.  When I’ve done a couple more loads I’ll run the dishwasher.

I’m a third of the way through my daily word count, but I’m going to try to double up today because I slacked off yesterday.  Instead of the death scene, which gives me the shakes, I’m doing a Reddit AMA instead!  How’s that for topicality….

Parade’s End

It was a perfectly nice BBC/HBO 5 parter.  HBO, so, of course, boobs.  I may have to look for the books it was based on; Ford Madox Ford was a feminist when that really wasn’t a popular view for a man to take, so good on him.

Word count yesterday was spiffing.  I will complete the book in less than two months at this rate, at which point I’m actually going to EDIT it instead of pronouncing it done and shelving it, and then I’m going to find a decent agent (I have some ideas) and if I can’t sell it, I’ll self publish.

When I’m no longer actively writing it, I’ll go to my next project, Tarot for Atheists, and finish that and see if I can get it published (it will be easier than this one, for sure), and then when that’s done, I’ll probably self-publish my homilies. (Homilies, Essays, Rants and Reviews).  Then there’s Broad Hints, which includes my ephemeral writing and then A Filker’s Life for Me (all my filk tunes and lyrics in book form), and A Sacrifice to Chronos (all the other songs worth keeping). After that, there’s Child Rearing for Anarchists, whatever materials I’ve put together for the anti-racism workshop (The Racist in Recovery, with free embroidered hankie for those white women tears, dearies).

Cough, which had been much better, is now suddenly much worse, so I’m glad I’ve got DMDE cough medicine in the house.  For the first time in my life I’m actually measuring the dosage.  Next dose at ten am – I’ve been up since quarter to 2.  Don’t know if it’s the moon, or the coughing, or my brain spinning with what new idiocies my characters are up to (reading Michel’s dialog aloud with a Montreal accent made me start coughing again) but sleep has been hard to come by these last few nights.

Fetched home some schnitzel yesterday for supper.  Lost my keys and Jeff found them.

I am so glad Keith is having a good and educational time in Australia.  I am so happy and proud, I just can’t express it enough.

Word of the Day:  rebarbative.


Church, chocolate, coffee

Despite the last two series of Sherlock being golden moments with half hours of ludicrous illogical crap in between, I’m quite taken with this young Cumberbatch fellow, and hope to watch Parade’s End, which features him prominently in some kind of period love triangle.  Oh, yeah.

Church had our former minister Harold Rosen, who traversed through Judaism and Unitarianism to end up being Baha’i.  He spoke on the processes of justice from an interfaith / Baha’i perspective.  Had a brief meeting with Sally about my homily on the 9th of March – exactly a month from today.  We squared away some things I hadn’t thought of.

The coffee, as always, was excellent. I picked up some chocolate for Jeff… fair trade organic chocolate does taste better.

I have learned that someone I only know through the internet is going to run as a Libertarian candidate.  His campaign promises so far…. are so ludicrous and hilarious that I would vote for him in a heartbeat.  He’s the only Libertarian I’ve ever run across who’s a feminist.  If there were more like him I wouldn’t be hating on Libertarians so much.

Jeff got Keith’s call last night.  Sounds like he’s still having magical amounts of fun in the land of Oz.

I’m feeling kinda sludgy… hope to make word count today.


The world on the slowdown

Katie came by yesterday to cut my hair and listen to the message Keith left (so burbly!  So full of enthusiasm!  and his pa will join him soon!) so it was a brief but useful interaction.  We’re obviously still pretty sore with each other, but life f*cking well goes on.

No word count yesterday; it was a disappointing day but at least Thursday’s trip to the doc reveals me as being, yet again, a dirty great hypochondriac.  Honestly, sometimes I think the best thing about me breaking my shoulder was that there was no arguing about it.  Everyone agreed, yup, dislocated AND broken; no hypochondria there, girl.

Third series of Sherlock so wombly and disappointing that I nearly screamed with frustration.  I put my Darth Vader blankie over my head a lot.  (I bought a Darth Vader blankie for 15 bucks at the Interfilk auction at Conflikt).

Jeff took me to breakfast this morning and will be heading out to work at a couple of customers later.  I hope I quit coughing long enough to do something useful, like make word count, or rehearse, or do laundry.

Racism workshop two Wednesday afternoons hence at my place.  It will be a corker.

I need some tea.



They just sang this in England, at the filk convention there.  http://www.leafpress.ca/Mondays_Poems_2013/Chris_Hadfield/Is-Somebody-Singing.htm

Happy sigh.

Walking pneumonia

I have bubbling and crackling in my chest and when I cough I feel like a tectonic version of Camille. I slept about 12 hours yesterday, which is about double my normal 6-hours-no-matter-when-I-fall-asleep.

Another 350 words after I thought I’d wrapped it up for the day yesterday; I sure am having fun.

Margot seems to be off her food and a tad listless, but she was happy enough to chase after a treat last night so I’m not sure it’s all that bad.  I think the cat food is a bit rancid, it sure smells that way. But of course if cat food smelled good to humans, that would be kind of weird.



Superb owl over this year

That was a righteous shellacking, was it not?  I turned off the game at half time.

A thousand words yesterday.  I don’t seem to be having any problems making word count.

Church was pretty sad yesterday.  Two long time members of the church are facing their last illnesses, and I know they are old but I love them both dearly and it’s just sad to see how their wives are bearing up under the strain.  Also, one of my favourite church members has cancer and another one is also going for cancer treatments.  Ack.  Make it stop please.  At the same time church was pretty awesome; the service was about the life and work of Bruce Cockburn.  Night before at the housefilk I said, “Well I can’t imagine them playing “If I had a Rocket Launcher” in church” and I was wrong!  How Peggy and I giggled about it afterwards.  Congratulations to our minister for daring and being all she is. Thanks also to Marylke for the ride home.

I practiced for about an hour yesterday.  It was a bit painful because the con crud finally set in and I’ve got a ghastly dry cough. I will probably head out to the pharmacy today to get something to kill the cough, or maybe just load up on Throat Coat tea with honey.  I went looking for cold meds and everything was time expired by 12 months.

Welp, that’s enough for now.  I’m heading back to sleep, after another broken night.

Here’s a lovely version of Danse Macabre.

I woke up super early this morning

So I took out some trash and put salt down on the back deck so Jeff doesn’t skid down on his ass, cause it be icy out there.

Jeff is off to Victoria this morning.  He will be watching the Superb Owl with pOp.

Otto is back from the shop.  I paid because it was the only way to get him back, cause I’m not giving them another crack at him.  I am very unhappy with the results, and super unhappy with the tech, who didn’t even restring the mandolin properly.   The world is full of competent people who only fuck up when I’m their customer, and I’m in line to receive customer service from every last one of them. It is my karma for all the exceedingly crappy service I’ve given to others in my life, I suppose.  At least the Mac came back genuinely repaired, although the new layout of the function keys is going to take some getting used to.

I wrote 3200 words yesterday.  Don’t know if I can meet or beat that today, but mOm isn’t complaining, as I’m basically forwarding everything to her as soon as I write it.  I need to completely finish that scene and then I’m off to the hardest scene of all….

Housefilk at Tom and Peggy’s this afternoon to evening, happy sigh. I’m getting a sore throat but I’m going to load up on Throat Coat tea and fluids and vitamin C.


A blessing upon learning a grandmother has died.

May her faults be a lesson, her virtues an inspiration and her love ever part of your blood and bones.




I hope Polly rests easy; she worked with great energy up until her 80’s, and treated retirement as an invasion of her dignity.  I never had the privilege of meeting her, except through the reminiscences and travel diaries of her descendants.

god, libertarians suck

my response to two of them


You fellas are adorable.

When the first peoples came to Turtle Island, there was nobody to conquer. (Although the megafauna, were they still around and sentient, might object most strenuously to that categorization). They spread out, established territories, and sure, fought among themselves as people do when displaced by climate change and natural disaster, but they established collective lands and for the most part respected those lands with natural boundaries and traded like mad. (Although modern Haidas laugh and say that their name comes from the other tribes yelling Hide Us! when they saw those fricking war canoes….) The notion of federation was borrowed and improved upon (arguably, but not by me) and codified by the descendants of the people who kicked the Haudenosaunee off their lands by right of conquest. Except that they made treaties and broke them for convenience, for racism, in the name of the conqueror god, & for capitalism.

In the end the land will reclaim the settlers. Without collective care of the land we’re all going to die horribly as capitalism dirties and endangers every creature now alive. Private property rights are a wonderful idea, but they are unenforceable and serve crony capitalism by atomizing opposition. Those rights will be less and less enforceable as time goes by unless you bare your ass to whoever controls the legal (or otherwise) monopoly on the use of force.

When your government can rain death down on you unopposed from 20000 feet up if you annoy the people at the joysticks, I hope your spirited defense of property rights shields you and your children.

I belong to a collective of like minded people who are working our way back to food safety and security, as well as shared land. When I’m done I’ll be working less than 30 hours a week to feed myself and our animals, have the comfort and security of family and friends around me, I’ll have access to light and power and musical instruments, and private property rights will be ideological road kill on a highway long since grown over by bushes and weeds. Using scare tactics about shared land, rather than educating yourself about where it exists and where it is working (because you’re right about it not working, often, but do not really understand why, and shoot yourself in the foot by not seeing where it IS working), is in my view inertia masking fear. Private property is for people who already have something and are FRIGHTENED of losing it.

But like fiat currency, marriage traditions, organized religion and tailgate parties, private property is a social convention, not an absolute right, pace Bastiat and all of his heirs. My only absolute right is my person and the tools of my trade or trades, and they are not rights I may individually enforce. Everything else re property is a stake through the heart of my connectedness to other people, which can, and should trump my right to sit on any dunghill, be it shit or gold, and crow that I am wiser and better, for I have something to lose, and need never think of who died or was injured for me to acquire it. The concentration camp you threaten liberals with is in your own minds. Free yourselves, humans, with whom I share the immense and shameful legacy of conquest and genocide! You are looters and do not seem aware of it, do not seem equipped to even consider it as possible, and may not be able to admit that the violence of your scorn betrays the weakness of your position.

And of course I don’t expect to be on the side of any government, local or otherwise, at any point in the future, but I’ll leave the fighting and dying for land to others, and try merely to keep planting food and saving seed and tending those weaker than I. When I have finished shedding this crust of goods and have nothing but my instruments and seed bags, I will stop being a looter myself, at long last. A thing is what it is, and not something else, as a wise man once said.