Roads not bad

For an Ontario driver like Jeff it’s trivial.

I can’t even talk about what’s got me upset right now anywhere on the internet AND I’M SO PISSED OFF fuck you capitalism. You’ll hear about it direct, mOm, and you can say there there and thank Christ you’re too intelligent to involve yourself in social media, visits, telephones and email being plennnnty sociable enough for you.

Today’s plan; binge watch Russian Doll mixed in with rehearsing and trying to finish this stupid fic, which is Pavlova’ing all over the stage as a dying swan.

Yesterday’s plan, a couple of hours with Alex; we sang, he jumped on the bed, played pinball, helped me make chocolate cake, and then eat it (he’s never been asked to help bake HA HA HA HA HA HA EVIL g’ma laugh, so he LOVED THE SIFTER and stirring and bagged at me for not letting him crack the eggs.

I told the story about the landpeer? Or did I? I think I told mOm. Landpeer K. came by and just because he’s mine, cute and biddable, Alex got 20 bucks out of her for CNY.

I LOVE VANCOUVER how could I not.

 

update #442

Started research for more books. I am ceasing writing activities on Upsun until all the completed manuscripts are published. Other activities, like finalizing covers, final edits, trying to locate additional resources for wider publication, will continue without being noted.

The research is also an infill activity while I work out if I’m going anywhere or doing anything travel wise until next Conflikt. Conflikt 2020, my god, I had no idea that was in my future as PESTMASTER GENERAL. I was thinking of Ontario in April – such a lovely change of allergies, with bonus flurries – but FilkOntario can get by without me. BESIDES IF I GO AND MY LUTHIER IS THERE oh I can just picture how that conversation would go. MUMMY MUMMY THERE’S A – whatever – cittern. DADDY there’s a TWANGIBOX 442 AND I SIMPLY MUST HAVE IT Nah. I should stay home, if I can’t buy an instrument on Airmiles.

I could make my own Twangibox 442, with steatite inlay. Works to repel intruders if you can’t squeeze a tune out of it. Clarn. Clarn.

Brain weasels are generating tunes faster than I can record them. Or want to:

Brief family break:

Saw Katie for breakfast yesterday. After we went to Walmart (she was talking about having to spend so much time with the crybaby (I will never forgive his performance in family court even though I wasnae there) because someone else totalled his car and yes he’s dinged up but Alex thanks to modern technology was unharmed enough to be mortally offended that the Mack truck driver LAUGHED AT HIM because he was crying and there he is being Alex and taking on toxic masculinity one asshole at a time) and I told her to lower her voice, we’re not Walmart white trash and she lowered her voice to hiss “I just dyed my hair blonde and you’re wearing a kitty hat, we ARE WALMART WHITE TRASH,” at which point I was the one making all the fucking noise.

Okay back to the glamorous life of an independent writer.

The first installment of the new writing, which will not start until the fall, since I’m literally going to take six months to plan every page of this motherfucker, will have no sixers in it at all. Sixers are in the news, are part of daily slang, but they have little to no impact on the human characters. Second will be the lead character bonding with a sixer while working on a project. Third will be about eco-sculpting over decades and will be crawling with sixers. SHIMPLY KHRAWLING I tell you.

I want Jeff to take me out to get a donut but I don’t think he can hear my brainwaves yet.

Ooh, somebody with 70k followers really liked my tweet. It’s an aphorism: Imperialism is about flags, money on the side, globalism is about money, flags on the side.

The first thing that happens is that someone turns up to mansplain it. I splained right back to him, and now I feel like I need a donut.

 

barometric jig

The tarp is in the process of blowing off the roof. The landlord has been informed but as you can imagine with this wind, which is gusting so hard the house shakes — but nothing shows up on local weather information showing more than 18kph, it all seems kind of weird.

I am experiencing lots and lots of boring migraine symptoms. I should put this keyboard away and sleep, hein? But I wrote 2500 words of dreck yesterday and I imagine I’m good for another 600-1000 and maybe finish the homily, I may be good for that, so after my pre-dinner nap. Hey, I was awake at two this morning, I’m allowed to sleep when I’m tired. Or need to close my eyes.

 

sigh sigh heavy sigh

Lots to complain about right now..

Going to be cold. First fuckton of snow, then cold.

Paperwork inconvenience.

Missing Alex but not wanting to leave the house.

I’m feeling quite strange; it’s possible this weird mood is a migraine, I had a massive, long lasting scintillating scotoma yesterday and the imprecation exclamation slur of a barometer’s been hopping and popping.

 

 

for my pack

 

There is nothing special about me any more
There is nothing new about being lonely
I had a pack
we raised our noses to the sky
we made the moon listen
we made the night fly
and now it is me only

And I cry
for my pack
out on these lonely hills 
x2

No more the hunt, knowing what to do
no more the fun of playing with the pups
no more their breath
rising from the den at night
playing tag, running on the brilliant snow 
bellies sag, we took a buffalo

And I cry
for my pack
out on these lonely hills
x2






In a grotesque act of cultural imperialism

I’m turning a west African harvest and birth celebration song into a choral arrangement about the Ambien Walrus. Brian Tate taught me Kakilambe and it’s a good thing I’m too smart to try to reproduce it in public.

BASS LINE

I’m a lolrus (1 bar)

TENOR LINE

Ambien Walrus in my head (2 bars)

ALTO LINE, SECOND SOPRANO LINE, FIRST SOPRANO LINE

Here I go to the internet, here I go spending cash that I don’t have (4 bars)

 

Ambien is a prescription sleep aid/anti anxiety drug which makes people do things like get up from a sound sleep and order ten thousand mixed beads in a bag from the internet. I do not consume Ambien.

 

 

blechh

Well that’s it I’m done. (Insert Jerry Seinfeld gif here) I’m officially not watching¬† Supernatural any more. Hilariously this comes one day after they announced a creak groan 15th season.

What an entirely loathsome script.

 

 

safely home Now I Live On Mercury

Very glad Paul was able to witness the simply incredible display of fallstreak clouds above the I5  yesterday Рthe cloud that contained them was like a single slice of orographic swiss cheese in a pale and hazy sky.

Imagine a cloud the shape and size of a thirty mile diameter pancake with half a dozen half mile sized holes cut in it.

 

Yeah.

New squib

I had to land most carefully

The sun’s emissions frying me

Kept losing my telemetry

But now I live on Mercury

 

smoked salmon

The last filk of this Con is a ‘Smoked Salmon’.

Kathy Mar sang a memorial song for John and I lost it, Cried and cried, and I’m crying now. What a sweet lady, and what a kindly thing to do.

Vixy and Tony performed her Siren song, which is a comic song which uses, to great and convulsing effect, a horde of Siren rhymes.

There were recitations; funny stories, one of which involves, and I’m not kidding, spying on Canada, a capella renditions; duos, group sings and much laughter. I had heard Lauren wanted SG filks and the con chair did Brooke’s Planet with a Forest which is hilarious four ways – know the singer, know the song, know the fandom and LIVE IN VANCOUVER where the sucker was filkmed (omga what a typo).

BUT EVERYTHING WAS GREAT and CD started everybody off with his tasteful support and his unbelievably smooth and compelling electric guitar stylings.

SO MUCH TALENT IN THAT ROOM, like a new drug yall.

My happiness is great, I’m not too exhausted, and my mind is so full I’ll probably be sleeping 10 hours a day for the next three days just to let my brain cool off.