It wasn’t much

I packed two boxes, unpacked one, helped get cloth underneath the bookshelves, hung an ornament, talked to Paul and drank a beer.  I was more productive yesterday.  Keith seems to be dodging a fair amount of it, as I likely would have done at his age if I hadn’t been forced into different circumstances.

 

There’s a tempest going on in SF.  A woman writer of color turns out to be … well I’m white so I don’t get to comment too much about that.  Not nice.  Anyway she’s been outed as a troll of the first order.  This was my comment in reaction to an article on the subject linked to on facebook.  I’m only copying it over because there’s a piece of invective in there that I quite like.  Benjanun Sriduangkaew is the writer’s name.

 

Is this the death of consequence free trolling? No, this is her set up for the biggest assault yet. In the end, I cheerfully predict that she will say, “As long as I was in the persona of a pleasant newbie, and you could pat yourself on the back for liking a woman fantasist of color, everything was fine. The second I turn out to be an opinionated and scathing woman who takes no prisoners, you hate me. THUS DO I PROVE THE VIOLENCE INHERENT IN THE SYSTEM!” TADA and dismount.

My intersectionality includes trans*folk, so she can decorticate herself with a grapefruit spoon for all of me.

I still haven’t spoken to somebody I know in SF fandom who’s ever clapped eyes on her (although I’m not assuming at this point that she doesn’t really exist or is some kind of weird long term thought experiment, as I did up until today).

People can be crazy jerks; the loathing of others can percolate through our own skins and behaviours in ways no human can count. Benjanun has a lot of feels inside; maybe she can get help for how those feelings make a scary, repellent mess for the community she is wishing to re-cut in her own image. She is living and will continue to live with the consequences of her actions.

Until she unreservedly apologizes for her ghastly verbal assaults on trans*folk I won’t read a word she says or put a dime in her pocket.

More packing

Yesterday Paul and I moved some furniture upstairs.  Katie was asked if she wanted the apartment Keith and Paul are vacating and she didn’t call the landpeers, so nothing happened.  We shall see what transpires. Perhaps it was for the best. The upstairs apartment is much nicer and much bigger. It’s more of course but Keith has essentially been sleeping in a cubbyhole for the last few years and it’s time he got more room.  Lucky duck gets the ensuite, too.

The baby shower is this weekend.  I feel very conflicted about it.  Paul is not going. I don’t know who else from the family is going.

Philae landed, and the world can be an awesome place if I just let it.

 

Quiet day yesterday

I helped Paul pack and clean up yesterday… yes, he and Keith are moving Planet Bachelor into the third of the four apartments in the building they are in.  They will very much enjoy having more space and a spare room.

Today I meet a former coworker for coffee and once again attempt to assemble the second section.

Philae lands today. I am quietly thrilled, and here’s something to watch about it.

I’ve got a timer set for how long Ima suffer those fools.

  1. Oct 1

    Turn your passion into a career. Work on planes & become an AME with hands-on training at the best facility in Canada

    0 replies11 retweets21 favorites

  2. Tweet text

    Reply to

  3. 2m2 minutes ago

    There will definitely be job openings as the baby boomers retire en masse, but it’s still a pig’s life – with ghastly hours.

    0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

  4. 11s12 seconds ago

    But the jobs won’t last long. General aviation is doomed and commercial aviation is in a race to outsource to the cheapest bid.

Church & Happiness

Church was very, very good this morning. The homily was on how rationality is not anywhere close to being the most important thing about a person, and how presenting a reasoned argument is no way to win one.    I had a lovely long chat with a newcomer, and did a shop afterward, learning that Halloween candy is GASP 75 percent off.  And Downton Abbey is back so I’m all happy.  I’m happy to hear that Hell on Wheels is getting another season, but they are splitting the air dates out to 2016.  Boo, hiss.  See how frequently my mood swings? My mood swings, let me elucidate their prolix fluency.

The rest of the day included a roast beast dinner and Margot making weird noises and asking prettily for her treat.

I vacuumed the kitchen and washed the rugs, heaven knows they needed it.

No writing today, but much musical noodling.

Singing

I know it’s  very weird to be rehearsing with a band that I’m not part of, but given that Mayhem has constraints (how can Mayhem HAVE constraints) that I can’t get into, because, strangely, reasons involving stupidity on the part of others in foreign climes, I kind of have to.  I suppose that wasn’t really a useful or discursive thing to say.  But I was singing last night and Peggy fed me and Shad an awesome dinner.  I loves me some Peggy.

I am writing, I am editing, and it all goes glacially slowly.  About three hundred words a day and maybe a page of edits.

I am seeing if I can go more than a couple of weeks without drinking.  I no longer seem able to process beer and it makes me really really sad.  It shouldn’t because, hey, water comes out of a tap and that was Adam’s ale, and Vancouver has the best municipal water system in the world, and the tap water is yummy, but I all sad face. Like I want to make a painting of a stubby or something.  Also, there is no chocolate cake in the house.  There should at least be cookies.  And I can always make more cake.  There is a drained lake of beer in my heart that only cake or possibly cookies can fill.

People want to know how much I’m seeing Alexander.  I’m seeing him as much as his mother and I agree seems to be right, and while it could be more, my own dear Grandma didn’t see me until I was walking, and it really helps to keep a sense of perspective about these matters.  If somebody wants my advice they can scarcely get the request out before I’m a-schpraying them, firehose-wise, with a side of and-another-things.  I have concerns of my own, thank the dear one.  Being an introvert Grandma is an interesting experience.

Lessons and light

I light a candle for Sandy.  She doesn’t read my blog any more but she has done more to restore my faith in humanity in the last two years than anyone else I know.

2020 says yeah that worked out.

I light a candle for Tammy, it was lovely hearing her voice on the phone yesterday.

I light a candle for Diane, my editor, who is being gentle but completely firm about the edits.

I light a candle for Jeff, who continues to be awesome in numerous ways.

I light a candle for Keith, who is in a relationship with a person I never heard of before today, thank you facebook.  I imagine I could meet her, but crashing karaoke night is the mark of an entirely sick mom. Unless I wait until Mike gets back from the DREADED BUSINESS TRIP OF DOOOOM, and go with him, flying all casual like.

I light a candle for Katie.  New motherhood and all.  I heard Alex on the phone yesterday, he’s definitely got a pair of lungs on him.

I light a candle for the minister Rev Debra; her puppetry at church last Sunday kept the kids enthralled.

I light a candle for Sue, who is so wonderful.  In so many ways.  When I grow up I want to be like Sue.

I light a candle for all our servicewomen and servicemen at home and overseas.

I light a candle for all the Burnaby Enbridge and pipeline protesters, and all the indigenous people fighting to keep pipelines off their land.

I light a candle for Paul, whom I ran into while I was doing edits at the library in New West yesterday.  It’s amazing how seeing a friend lifts your spirits.  It made leaving the house to concentrate seem like an especially good idea.

I light a candle for pOp, and for mOm, perseverance and good humour make for a very good example.

 

New song

It literally came into my mind – bouncing 70’s style pop music – all in one go, less than 5 minutes.

You sent me a pic
of your dick
and I don’t wanna see it
You wanna be my friend
with Warner Bros at the end
and I don’t wanna be it
The picture that you sent
that’s really kinda bent
it isn’t even of you
You wanna pay my rent
every last cent
and then you say “i luv u”
I know that you’re showing me
all kinds of affection
but maybe you could leaven it
with just some self-reflection….

You sent me a pic, sent me a pic, sent me a pic
repeat to fade

Let us now praise obscure women

Long time followers of this blog will understand that I think that Lois is the Goddess Come Among Us (my mOm is of much the same opinion) and Lois did nothing but burnish her reputation as she conveyed me and Katie and Alex to church.  Pre-teen boys and other grandmas looked at him with happiness, and apart from wailing during the diaper change (which is standard) we had a lovely time at church.

I have some pictures but I’m still processing / messing with them. Preen.

I am very happy right now.

 

Shot my mouth off on twitter this morning – bottom to top.

  1. 3s4 seconds ago

    …as false rape accusations, but that’s a margin of error I’m prepared to live with, how ’bout you?

    0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

  2. 27s28 seconds ago

    So I feel quite comfortable with accusing trolls who say that of being rapists. I’ll only be right about the same percentage of time….

    0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

  3. 1m1 minute ago

    So every time a troll says a woman is too ugly to rape, he’s saying that given the opportunity and a victim, he’d be only too happy to rape.

    0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

  4. 2m2 minutes ago

    If you flip that statement, the troll is saying, I HAVE seen women that I wanted to rape, but she’s not one.

    0 replies0 retweets0 favorites

  5. 3m3 minutes ago

    Let’s work through the logic. says she’s been raped. A troll says: Have you seen her? That’s impossible!

Weird clouds this morning

IMAG0711_1Random Hallowe’en notes:

Bought $28 worth of candy, got rid of all of it.  Most of the kids costumes were store-bought, but one made a Mardi Gras like impression.  No pic… but she said she was a peacock fairy, and yes, that is what she was.

NO MUSIC.  But lots of convo with Lois, and I even dragged the coffee maker upstairs from its place of banishment in the basement.

Birds are too shell shocked to sing this morning.

Score!  One of the kids recognized my mask as being from Assassin’s Creed.

Score! Keith came over and he announced that pufferfish are back in stock.  I loves my boy.

Score! Chili was a massive success, and as it proceeds through the colons of my loved ones, it will move from success to success.

Score! Paul brought apple pie from the Mexican bakery in the Quay. And Lion Winter Ale, duh.

Score! Wrote a filk to Robin in the Rain.

Riding in the rain
I don’t mind the weather
I have got a 12 volt heater
underneath my leathers
dodging all the bicycles and trucks and cars
weaving ’round the drunks as they come out of bars
Riding in the rain
I don’t mind the weather
even when it’s getting dark
I am a commuter in a first person shooter
but I have a place to park! (with apologies to Raffi).

Now I must write.  It’s NaNoWriMo, kittens!