Got to see Keith before he went off for Winter Training. Ai to be so young I could contemplate walkin’ into the Burrard Inlet with nuttin’ but me and me gi and me At’letic cup.
Almost made word count today.
Dear facebook please don’t ask me to wish happy birthday to dead people. Dear allegra don’t be such a putz, you can quit facebook any time you want. Dear facebook you are an enabling bastard and I wouldn’t cross the street to puke in your ear if your brains were on fire. Dear allegra we get that a lot but we must strain to hear you over the immense groan of the earth underneath our server rooms and our satanic grasp of human foibles BWA HA HA.
So far 12 people on facebook have liked this post.
Only wrote 200 words yesterday and cried for the entire thing. People trying to overcome sadness makes me sad sometimes. But I came up with one epic image of trying to overcome emotional pain with physical pain so I guess that’s interesting. (Turning yourself into an anchor and jumping out of a boat!)
Also Alan Rickman dying. The tributes. He was really amazing.
I continue to putter. I am really in the mood for some Agent Carter, so I hope it recorded last night.
Yaaas this is definitely not me writing very hard every day.
I’d like to make a list of my accomplishments, but if the list starts with the shower I need that I haven’t had yet I should probably amble away from the keyboard and go do something life affirming like clean myself.
Couldn’t sleep last night until when I normally wake up.
That was weird, couldn’t get my post to post. I kept hitting enter and nothing happened.
Worked on scenes with Sweetie and Michel yesterday.
Ab so lute ly overset and saddened and crying because Bowie is dead. The last time I heard his voice it was backing up Lou Reed and that makes me sad too. They’ll be singing duets in God’s Heaven I guess.
I have basically been crying since I got up.
except like I said on a different book, which is supposed to be finished. Ai.
Weirdly unnerving article about fiction. Not exactly what I needed while writing, except to reaffirm that in many ways I’m kicking over the idea of a happy ending while making sure that my characters have satisfactory middles. The idea of a pause point when everybody is okay is fine. The notion of a happy ending is really pernicious.
I did laundry yesterday. Also I watched Ant Man. Which had serious pacing issues but was really fun during the action sequences.
Lovely day yesterday with Alex in the early afternoon. Brunch with Katie and Dax first. Alex is getting eye teeth, but before our visit was over I collected a ONE HOPES NO LONGER SHEDDING VIRUS BUT WHATEVER headbonk kiss. Also we played with various toys and he demonstrated his intelligence, which is considerable.
Wayah! (Where in babytalk). Very very cute.
Then off to see Mike after his work and BLECHHH and no other words apply to that sitch, and not my story to tell to boot.
I got the Alias Jessica Jones digest from Mike, yay. Feeling much less angry at the world today which probably has to do with the almost 12 hours of sleep I got last night (I know, right?)
Then like a moron work 400 new words into an old novel and I should be working on other things especially since Jeff and I have already talked about version control, it’s as if I’m deliberately turning around and running in the opposite direction after I’ve agreed to it. I know it’s a human mind, but I’d prefer it to cruise along in one direction, this heading in several different directions at once makes my spine snap around.
I should go for a walk. I walked from Katie’s place to the Union Jack yesterday since I JUST DID NOT FEEL LIKE GETTING ON THE BUS AGAIN after watching mostly the aftermath of an accident inside the bus on the way down in which a preschool boy got his leg stuck between a wheelchair seat and the luggage rack at the front of the bus. RESULT two preschoolers screaming a meter away from me for 12 minutes by my phone because kid number two could hear her brother crying like he was dying and got no comfort from her mother for ages since she was kinda busy. Even the possibility of horseshit like that happening again made me hate on taking the bus, and it’s sure good exercise walking up the hill. Then Mike joined me. The prime rib was really really good. I cleaned my plate.
I think the next time I pick a user name it’s gonna be Roy Batty’s Thong. Neveryoumind why.
I call bullshit. The collapse of parenting this purse-mouthed asshole is complaining about is a pure, simple reaction to the anxiety of the parents and the almost complete and total lack of societal support for young mothers.
And why are parents anxious? Because for every step of their parenting journey they are judged; because gender roles are changing fast; because of environmental degradation and the plummeting of quality in schools after two generations of neglect; because of high, high anxiety about unemployment and housing security. To have some peace in their homes they don’t argue about food.
Also, the first kid described could have been on the spectrum or had a sensory disorder. I spent half my goddamn life as a parent trying to coax one kid to eat anything at all that wasn’t white.
Macleans starts off the article – which is a moralistic piece of trash-with anecdata. Fuck Leonard Sax and his judgemental ass and fuck Macleans for printing it. I love how he blames parents for how fat kids are without talking about how rich men force the government to subsidize the sale and marketing of sugar, or how medicated they are without talking about the explosion of mood disorder drug advertisements and off book prescriptions bribed out of well meaning but ignorant physicians. In fact it’s all part and parcel of how parents are demeaned and told they are idiots full stop all the time.
But tell us how you really feel Allegra, and be more vehement next time.
Last night I dreamed I lived in a tall rickety house and my upstairs neighbour was a delightful man with a raven for a pet. I tried to play with the raven and he turned into a man right in front of me and then refused to be cuddled like a doll because he was so cute I had to pick him up and squeeze him, and he wasn’t having ANY of that shit.
It’s now officially so cold I have to leave my little space heater on all the time. Our electric bill must be insane.
Another facebook user:
I used to eat superfoods but I had to stop. The capes kept getting caught in my molars.
Not much to report. I’m seeing Sue for breakfast at 10 and Katie and Alex are coming over on Friday. I’m supposed to see Mike, who’s been sick for the last week, on Friday.
Somewhat unstuck. Shoveled the walkway.
The Orson Welles 1966 movie Chimes at Midnight is worth seeing just for Welles’ performance as Falstaff. (Gob to the smacked.) Jeanne Moreau as Doll Tearsheet and Margaret Rutherford as Mistress Quickly are perfect and John Gielgud as the old king likewise. There’s a Janus films version which is the one you want until the Criterion collection comes out later. The only quibble I have is that the audio, like a lot of international coproductions of the past is, at best, variable, so you’ll be turning the volume up and down all through. Also not registered very well. The actors spoke their lines and it was all dubbed in later. Welles in late medieval armour is pretty impressive, when it isn’t actively hilarious.
I’m going to try writing in a different location today.
Not much to report. Things are decently quiet here.