them Ukrainians, lord lord

The link

 

David Axe Forbes staff, wrote

While any tank can be temperamental, the list of malfunctions Kochevnik was dealing with might speak to inconsistent workmanship at Uralvagonzavod’s factories.

A Russian who gave his name as Aleksander Anatolevich, who clearly was unaware that Kochevnik is a Ukrainian soldier, promised he’d bring up the problems with the design bureau in Nizhny Tagil—and that he’d also contact the engine-manufacturer in Chelyabinsk.

Kochevnik wasn’t done trolling. He also got ahold of Andrey Abakumov, a Uralvagonzavod director. Abakumov asked Kochevnik to describe the tank’s problems in detail on WhatsApp.

That’s when Kochevnik finally revealed he’s Ukrainian, and his army had captured the problematic T-72 around Izium late last year.

Laughing, Kochevnik ended the call.

weekend means something now

Took Alex to his sleepover with Rynn last night. Keith was here briefly, getting all nostalgic, watching Alex play Burnout.

I am just quietly happy at the moment. I briefly spoke to Mike, off to a family dinner for the moon festival, and mOm, and Paul who absolved me of any duties. I wrote some more and sent it to mOm. I ate my leftover pho, and it was so good I almost cried. I had raspberries and cream, ditto.

I hope everyone has a simply splendid day, productive and soulfully nourishing and peaceful and full of love.

DEMAND AVOIDANCE

Avatar
ace-and-ranty (TUMBLR ACCOUNT)

Well, goodness, this one resonated much more than I was expecting. I mean, I get it. My mind was also blown wide open when I found out “demand avoidance” was a thing that existed, and that I’m not the only weirdo in the world who suddenly wishes it wasn’t her birthday after anxiously waiting for her birthday for days.

Loads of people in the tags are asking how I do it? I feel this won’t be groundbreaking advice, but here is what I have learned:

  1. Previous experience. Really no way around it. Now that I hit thirty, I feel like I have done enough things to know, intellectually, from experience, what will feel nice if I overcome the avoidance, and what won’t. For example, every time I go to the beach, I wake up early and would rather eat a tire than get off the bed. But I remember that every time I got up and went to the beach, I was glad I did it. So I just get up, feeling like shit, and get ready, feeling like shit, and I get to the beach and magic!! I feel great, I love the beach!! Sometimes you just gotta do it scared feeling kinda like shit.
  2. Am I avoiding the thing or getting to the thing? I have a lot of demand avoidance around just, y’know, getting up, getting ready and going out the door. Universal human experience. If I notice that doing the actual thing (Swim in the pool!) sounds nice, but I’m avoiding having to rally myself to go do that (Fetch swimsuit! Sunscreen! Towel!), then I know it’s demand avoidance and I should just fucking go.
  3. Is the thing making me feel excited at all or just anxious? I have had previous occasions when I did the opposite; I convinced myself it was just demand avoidance when I really just. Hated the thing. And wanted to stop. If you feel a mix of excitement and dread, or excitement and anxiety, that might be demand avoidance. But if thinking of doing the thing just makes you feel actively anxious, then yeah. You don’t want to do the thing.
  4. Do the thing a little bit. Used often with dishes. I’ve seen this advice float around Tumblr a lot and it’s correct. Commit to doing just a bit of the thing; a little bit of the thing; the smallest bit of the thing you can do. Getting started will make it clear right away if you don’t want to do it (and in that case, you have permission to stop), or if you just having trouble getting started.

Writing again!

jfc anything rather than edit. I mean it’s only 189 205 words so far but that’s still ‘pushing the peanut.’

The Lad is off to school and I’ll be calling Paul AGAIN today. Yesterday wasn’t good enough for him. I fed him pho. I helped him get his medications. I helped him get a toilet riser. I took him to get a charging cable and box for his Motorola phone. I did not yell at him for taking an hour to eat. I stayed with him as he walked, slower each day. And he took all the stuff I helped him buy out of the car and before he slammed the door bitched me out for not helping him get a box of wine when I specifically said I had to go get Alex next. He is not supposed to be drinking so much as a drop of alcohol. (Same same for me although I will occasionally…)

SOOOO now I’m waiting for brekkie at the old folks to be over so I can call him and arrange to do yet more things for him today which I am heavily disinclined to do. And I still have to get the new windshield wipers on the car. I tried to install one and nope, even a diagram was of no assistance.

LATER…. Paul called back, he has other plans for today (goddess keep and bless Rob W), he apologized for anything rude he said, acknowledged that I’m very helpful, and said he’d call me on the weekend if he needed me. ALL THAT IRE 4 NUTHIN. Story of mah fucking life. hi mOm lol

Diane Feinstein’s dead. The woman was a fucking menace to American democracy, no sadness here.

I am disgusted by the arrival of a neo Nazi in Parliament, to be given plaudits by people who don’t understand history and don’t care to. Fuck every parliamentarian but two and I’m not very keen on them anyway.

Bluesky continues to be a very pleasant refuge. Twitter I view but I’m not making content for them any more. I now have FOUR WHOLE UNIQUE INDIVIDUALS signed up for my weekly digest, coming November 2023.

Alex and other things

Alex is helping me feel better every day. Cuddles, jokes, a few words about school. Sometimes we record stuff.

Part of the happiness is watching him and Jeff interact.

Yummy Alfredo from White Spot last night, Jeff had the chicken strips and then helped me finish the Alfredo because for some reason his order didn’t come with fries.

Hoping to get some writing in today, who knows.

Off twitter

I just deleted one of the most bilious tweets I’ve ever tried to post and so, realizing that the end has come, I bid you adieu, twitter. I pay for my own platform so it will feel sad to have an audience of ten instead of 500, but I sing just as hard for a big crowd as a small.

I will delete the account later today. The above is my last tweet. CAN’T DEACTIVATE, DON’T HAVE PASSWORD. So I have to just not look, lol.

I actually ate something healthy just now and I’m feeling awesome.

Jeff emptied the dishwasher.

Got hold of Paul, will hopefully get hold of him again to confirm that he talked to Janice’s roommate. Got hold of him again, told him to call Keith since he can’t raise the roommate.

Alex is blowing up cars with BURNOUT:REVENGE a game from 2005

complaints, kudos, complaints, lists

Nothing to complain of regarding Alex. Some mornings he wants to cuddle, other mornings he wants to go downstairs. Dropped him off in time for school, thought about going to Lordco because one of the Echo’s wiper blades flung itself off and lodged itself so firmly under the other wiper blade that I could still use it but it stuck to the car. This is the kind of luck I always get issued; sloppy but welcome.

Weather seasonal, rainy, not too cold.

Later this morning I have to go to Thornebridge, roust the wasband and tell him his girlfriend’s been admitted to hospital in Seattle after taking the wrong medication for a cold. She has a history of absolutely horrific, interpersonally damaging and completely avoidable meltdowns, usually thanks to hospitals ignoring her when she provides them with a list of what she reacts to. Everyone is calling COVID a cold now I see. I am not saying I hope Janice ups and dies, after all, I wrote “Invective” for her and I always have a soft spot for anyone who provides me with the impulse to compose, I just fail to see why I have to be all tenderhearted about the woman who brazenly busted up a marriage that I didn’t – as it turns out – want to stay in. Alan’s role in all of that got called out very close to the beginning of the end by Glenn, so HI GLENN THE SHIT CONTINUES BUD, same planet different day. So I acknowledge that I’m …. conflicted …. possibly hypocritical …. definitely snarky. Fuck it, have to go to Thornebridge. Nobody OF COURSE can raise Paul on the phone and I’m closest. I told him to go to Strong because memory care is a seamless transition, but the sisters put him in Thornebridge and those of us close to the problem get to watch him decompensate expensively. I loved that man far more than I can say and I wrote songs and poems and stories for him and now I’m wild with what a sting love has at the far end of that long tail.

almost 100 reads on the last story and ten kudos. Only one comment, sigh, but it was a beaut and I shared it with mOm.

This morning I on the downlow shared my distaste for an extremely popular sf/sff novel by agreeing with a poster “so polarizing I don’t have a public opinion about it’ so that’s as subtle as you get. After all, Canadian authors are supposed to close ranks – LOL: define Canadian, I’ll wait.

Jeff TOUCHED the dryer and it started working. Kiss pOp for me mother, he obviously passed the gift down. I’ll probably break it again when I go to load it up in a minute.

Must empty dishwasher.

 

 

Peaceful morning

Buster came out, butted Alex’s shin with his head, and in general greeted him. It was a scattershot day yesterday but in general it worked out okay.

I’d love to do a complete teardown on how I get Alex to and from school BUT OF COURSE this is the internet and I do not want to give total strangers access to how I move an 8 year old around.  He will be 9 in less than two weeks. Isn’t it amazing how fast they grow.

HIS MOTHER SUPPLIED WEEKS WORTH OF SCHNACKEROOS

So many snacks.

Cheese, fruit, yogurt drinks, cookies. A panoply of snackertude.

Now to run the dishwasher so there are plates to serve them on lol.

Writing is on the back burner. I have a con to rehearse for!! I only have 45 more days!! That’s right, November 10-12th I will be at the fully masked con Orycon 43 in Portland! It’s a gencon not a filkcon but there are LOTS of filkers in Portland. So looking forward to it!

In the market for singing masks now.

Other worlds

Off in my own little one this morning, writing mush, just heartfelt mush for Brad and Omar. There are more ways to say I love you than there are stars in the universe. If it were not so we would not keep proving it, we lovers.

There’s no cream, so I’m eventually going to have tea. I’ve already played with Buster and brushed him, gotten some 90 Micron into me, written four hundred new words, had an entirely pain-free morning widdle – which only happens about 30 percent of the time so hey, we must grab these little happinesses as they go by is this not merely a truism but a mechanism by which daily life may in practical terms be a-accomplished?  she stammered… the keyboard barfed up an a so I stuck a hyphen in there and called it done.

I can go from piss to philosophy in seconds, so, do not try me, world! I have the words to roll you back again.

I find myself very blank and unthinking in most ways though. I am pressed on all sides by anxiety, and it is not all my own. So I think this feeling of blankness is an accommodation; if I am not reactive I won’t be making as much trouble. Of course, past a certain point, absence from human affairs starts taking you backward. I’ve spent my whole life, literally my whole life, trying not ‘to have it all’ but ‘to have all that I could reasonably attain without destroying myself as a creative being’, which involves a lot of decisions.

Having children never seemed like a decision. It was ordained. I felt it then, I felt it again as I typed it. The horror of childrearing and bearing that many modern women feel now is alien to me, but not anathema. I was among the last women who didn’t have reproductively impactful amounts of forever chemicals in my body during my pregnancies, so I remove myself from the pool of people who get judgy on modern women not wanting to have babies.  I have always been vocal in my support of the childless by choice. I understand the demographic arguments against the falling birth rate, and I reject them as propertarian and against self-interest (in planetary capacity terms). If I as a science fiction writer can posit three or four different social responses to a globally crashed birth rate (which is inescapable for reasons of deteriorated human health), each with their costs and benefits, how many responses can a whole nest of human civilizations come up with, depending on how resources are deployed? I still have hope, despite the countability of life.

Poems and songs turn over in my belly. something in there is wrathful, and something sad

it’s just gas

my brother said

Emotionally charged

Yeah, it was a day of emotionally charged phone calls. May it all be well. It was a relief candidly to talk to Dave D on the phone and just be shooting the shit about commonplaces.

Alex was here and we recorded (I managed to record me farting and Alex’s subsequent howl of outrage was so funny I put it all on loop and then the two of us nearly died laughing.) We never did manage to get down the road to Paul’s.

Lovely night of sleep, I have my mug of tea  and a light repast and my marching orders for the day (call landlord about the dryer again) and Alex’s calendar for next week (early dismissal on Wednesday!)

Later:

533 words on Yaks are Not Admitted Past This Point

Jeff will be home sometime this afternoon.

 

 

sorry I missed a post yesterday

Good thing I won’t have to do this – being this blog-  more in a couple of months. Yup, After November 16th it will be THE PRIVATE DIGEST OF ALLEGRA SLOMAN, sent specifically to you for your deletion, consumption, or hoarding for later, being a week’s worth of my ramblings, including whatever I’ve been writing in terms of fiction as a subsection ALWAYS WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS. I mean, if you don’t want to read smut, you would want a warning. If I’m never leaving the house I might as well be able to prove I’ve been busy, even if it’s for such a low life enterprise. You’ll even get my game scores so you can track my cognitive decline, what could be more exciting.

Alex continues to be wonderful. He got to interact with his other Grammy yesterday because SUZANNE was here and the enshinening happened, and she got emailed the entire ms for Totally Boned.

I get him for the whole day today. Childcare for an ADD family involves having the child tell you about the PRO-D day because his mom forgot. Katie is BUSY past ENDURANCE these days. She was apologetic and Suzanne and she and I stood on the front stoop laughing and hollering like trailer trash while two men of colour glared at us from across the street. White women, I tell ya. Anyway I’m going to take him

In other ‘that side of the family’ news, Unca Steve got two tags this year, one for a moose and one for an elk. (Dax is up there hunting with him right now which will also partly account for Katie’s state, since he pulls weight at home.) Anyway another hunter had a moose tag and gave up in disgust and gave the tag to Unca Steve and Steve bagged one and will get a cut of the carcass. (Unca Steve is a “this harvested animal will be consumed as food” kind of hunter.) So he got three tags for the price of two and his reputation as the family Nimrod is secure. (in the old as opposed to the cartoon sense of the word.)

Completed my rewatch of S1 GOmens but have not watched anything else since Jeff departed.

One of my music fans messaged me yesterday about a song, to tell me it meant a lot to him, and that was …. honestly so sweet and welcome.

Intelligent readers will skip the next paragraph / wall of blithering text. re fanfic.

The new Good Omens fanfic is posted on A03. I am going to retire the rest of the destiel fic I was working on (we’re talking a number of words not unadjacent to 300K of work, if I’m including the 200K unfinished doorstop ‘The Sword That Cries ‘Ruin!” which has the single best Own Character from all my fanfic, in my view, an ancient creature representing herself as a woman (she’s actually a sentient tree, of a species with a heritage older than earth because she’s ‘not from around here’ and she falls in love with Sam and he has to bury her in the ground so she doesn’t die because of her species’ life cycle, and it’s just so tragic and amazing and sad and glorious and beautiful and the smut I wrote about their goodbye tryst (have sex with me now and bury in the morning LOL) is so pure and awesome and then she wakes up twenty years later after her transformation and, because Dean’s been peeing on her grave (he HATES HER thinks she RUINED SAM’S LIFE) every time he’s at the bunker to visit Sam, when she wakes up she’s a foot taller. the explanation for this is also molto hilarious. I further wrote a crapstack of stuff about the hunter kids Cas and Dean adopt, one of whom takes on Crowley IN HELL and bests him (different Crowley – there’s a Crowley in Supernatural AND Good Omens.) Although it has been pointed out in tumblr that a) both Crowleys USE THE SAME THRONE – the side by side pics are HILARIOUS) AND B) AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, THE SIGIL IN THE CENTRE OF THE CIRCLE THAT AZIRAPHALE WARDS IN S1 IS A COMPLETELY MADE UP SIGIL FROM SUPERNATURAL – NOT EVEN ENOCHIAN – which according to rumour ‘was not deliberate’ which is the single funniest thing I have ever heard in my life about crossover media, whether or NOT IT’S TRUE.  AND in ‘Ruin’ THERE IS A TALKING CAT NAMED FELIS CATUS WHO IS ACTUALLY AN ALIEN WITCH’S FAMILIAR AND GETS HIMSELF PREGNANT AND GIVES BIRTH TO SENTIENT CATS i mean this story has damned close to every wacky witch trope I could jam down its gullet and parts of it are so terrifying and hilarious it’s among the best I ever wrote, AND THERE’S A LOT OF HIGHLY TECHNICAL B&D SEX BETWEEN CAS AND DEAN AND DISCUSSIONS ABOUT HOW IT’S HARD TO HAVE A GOOD DOM SUB RELATIONSHIP WHEN YOU’VE GOT TEENAGERS CRAWLING IN AND OUT OF YOUR HOUSE DAY AND NIGHT). Yeah. You can understand why I need 200K words for that.                                           BUT I was thinking of just plain deleting it all – good and bad – off Scrivener as a sacrifice to Erato, but who knows, maybe the sparkle will come back. I’m only four or five thousand words from the end of ‘Ruin’ but I can’t bring myself to unfray the knot.

I believe I’ll enjoy writing Brad and Omar stories more, anyway. I love my lively lads. They’re on a farm in Eastern Ontario right now, thinking about putting up a yurt. And yaks. Brad’s going to have a ‘newborn yak adventure’.