Just got back from a really delightful Clarion West Party, and I have realized over the course of a wonderfully social day that I am still thinking--and telling people--about ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
gregvaneekhout's debut novel Norse Code. I was talking with friends today about something that the book does really well, which is that it gets a peculiar and wonderful aspect of Norse mythology: Einsteinian time. Time as a navigable dimension,as it were (and I love that he has Fenrir, among others, explaining this.)
Essentially, in Norse mythology, all events are inevitable because they have already happened and are eternally happening. A wyrd or fate is not an inalterable future, so much as a part of the present we have not yet experienced. It's a tremendously fatalistic worldview, it's true, and so inimical to modern American culture that it's rare to see it done well in English-langage fantasy, or even touched upon--acknowledged--at all.
Greg does a great job with it, and that delighted me, and I meant to mention it before.
What's also tremendously cool about Norse myth is the way things are both symbolically and literally their names. So Thor (as an example) can be an iindividual--the god of thunder, who carries a hammer which strikes like a thunderbolt (which IS, in fact, a thunderbolt, Mjollnir that smashes...); and he can also symbolically be the god of thunder, a personification of random violence and flash-fire temper; but he is also, all at the same time, quite literally, thunder in his own person.
Ahem.
Anyway, it's really really cool.
gregvaneekhout's debut novel Norse Code. I was talking with friends today about something that the book does really well, which is that it gets a peculiar and wonderful aspect of Norse mythology: Einsteinian time. Time as a navigable dimension,as it were (and I love that he has Fenrir, among others, explaining this.)Essentially, in Norse mythology, all events are inevitable because they have already happened and are eternally happening. A wyrd or fate is not an inalterable future, so much as a part of the present we have not yet experienced. It's a tremendously fatalistic worldview, it's true, and so inimical to modern American culture that it's rare to see it done well in English-langage fantasy, or even touched upon--acknowledged--at all.
Greg does a great job with it, and that delighted me, and I meant to mention it before.
What's also tremendously cool about Norse myth is the way things are both symbolically and literally their names. So Thor (as an example) can be an iindividual--the god of thunder, who carries a hammer which strikes like a thunderbolt (which IS, in fact, a thunderbolt, Mjollnir that smashes...); and he can also symbolically be the god of thunder, a personification of random violence and flash-fire temper; but he is also, all at the same time, quite literally, thunder in his own person.
Ahem.
Anyway, it's really really cool.
- Mood:
tired
Ah, Farscape, the science fiction show that dared to make vomit a plot point. How I love you.
Austin peeps! I'll be at Elysium tomorrow night for my birthday! Come hang out!
And now the first line meme, since everyone else is doing it, and I am nothing if not ovine. Not that it makes any difference, since I'm in serious committed book relationships for another year.
Novels:
The Bone Palace
That summer, pestilence stalked Erisín on bronze wings. In a city named for the Saint of Death, built on the bones of its founders, no street was too rich or too humble for black-lipped Erishal when she sought new souls for her retinue. But this plague came from the south, borne in a merchant ship that slipped through a lax quarantine. Now it droned above the streets in clouds of midges, and spread below from the bites of fleas.
That afternoon, it stalked the palace.
Kingdoms of Dust
He was dreaming when they came for him.
(This is almost certainly not the real first line, but I have a scene I hope to repurpose, and it consoles me to pretend I have a start for the book)
Dreams of Shreds & Tatters
Halloween night, and parties staggered down Granville Street--clubs full of sequins and feathers, costumes and paint and masks. People dressed in shiny new skins, searching for opportunities to shed them. Groping hands and sticky candy kisses, tricks and treats in darkened corners.
Mist & Chill
The Terminal is a dive on its best day.
Even in the lands of flesh it's a dump, a ratty narrow brick and cement place with a single pool table and a cheap precarious stage in the back to hold cheap precarious bands who can't find anyplace better to play. Shitty sound system and shittier plumbing, flickering arrhythmic lights. Fliers plaster the walls, some decades out of date, bands and DJs no one's heard of fading and crumbling and drifting like dead leaves.
(totally not happy with that one)
Prayers to Broken Stone
Springtime in Paris, the cruelest month come and gone, but storms still linger. Tonight rain washes the city, speeding the Seine in its rush to the sea. In the Left Bank, it pours from the gutters and drips from curling wrought iron balconies to splash against the cobbles below. Moisture darkens white walls, new paint and plaster over centuries-old bones. Pigeons sleep beneath the eaves, fat on café crumbs, violet-grey wings folded tight against the chill. And in her apartment on the rue du Dragon, Holly sits beside an open window and watches the rain.
Pinion
Lilah runs and darkness follows.
Branches and briars tear her, rip skin and skirts, and sap clings sticky as blood in her hair. A familiar path, one she's followed unthinking day or night more times than she can count. But now fear blinds her, turns Ogilvie Park's winding trails into a too-dark nightmare maze.
Spiral
The sky hangs dark and swollen overhead, scraping its belly over the spires of Prague. Bianca pauses to wipe her boots on the mat, groceries balanced on her hip. The rain has slacked, of course, now that they've reached the apartment. Water trickles through her hair, warm by the time it drips down her neck and under her collar. She really should buy an umbrella.
The YA novel that will not be called The Night Garden
The bombs fell again that night.
Mad Max Beyond Ragnarok
The stallion came with the dawn, and the rising sun flung his shadow before him over the cracked and dusty ground.
Short Stories:
"Music From a Farther Room"
Alex found his wife waiting on the threshold, at the divide between memory and dream. He was used to finding her here, one of the many memory-ghosts to haunt these halls. But this was different. The door she stood in was one he couldn't cross.
"Bone Garden"
They found the girl unconscious on the back doorstep an hour before dawn.
Nothing unusual, someone passed out in this neighborhood, but she looked too tattered and threadbare for the usual clientele, or for the sort who might linger behind a theatre after a show. Gentian scanned the empty street behind them: shops closed, windows shuttered against the cold, frost-slick cobbles glazed with lamplight. Drunken laughter and voices carried from the next block, but the alley behind the Rhodon was silent.
"Flood"
Nan doesn't mean to fall asleep--she never does. But Evie's soft breath and the steady creak of the ceiling fan lull her, till her eyes sag and the worn paperback slides from her fingers.
"Teneral"
"Take off your mask," the arachne tells me.
"Needlepoint"
You wake crumpled on the floor, legs folded awkwardly and one arm twisted behind your back. The room is dark and still, except for the green blink of the timer behind your right eyelid.
"Red Is the Color"
I wake with the taste of storms in my mouth and screams echoing down the hall. Slow and dream-sticky, and for a second I don't know where I am, but I'm still on my feet with my gun in my hand before my eyes are all the way open.
"Serpentskirt"
All Souls Night and the gutters still brim with shed Hallows skin. Broken glass crunches under Jane's boots as she carries an amp to the van, glittering beside limp feathers and cracked sequins, tattered black and orange fliers. One hell of a party, she heard--Sixth Street is still subdued and sleepy. But even for the day after Halloween and a Monday to boot, the crowd is still better than last night's in Dallas.
"Snakebit"
The horses are restless.
The sound of snorts and hooves tangles through Lanie's nightmares, familiar dreams of fire and smoke. She wakes with a start, sweat sticky on her neck and back. Beside her, Merle stirs with a muffled curse as one of the horses whinnies.
"Waiting For the Train"
When it's raining here, you hear the trains. You can hear them other times too, with the tracks so close, but the dusty heat of summer bakes the sound out of the air, till it gets buried under cars and trucks and TVs and voices and all the other small-town noises. But when the rain comes, and the trains come, the whistles carry all over, low and mournful and rumbling in my chest.
I miss short stories...
And now the first line meme, since everyone else is doing it, and I am nothing if not ovine. Not that it makes any difference, since I'm in serious committed book relationships for another year.
Novels:
The Bone Palace
That summer, pestilence stalked Erisín on bronze wings. In a city named for the Saint of Death, built on the bones of its founders, no street was too rich or too humble for black-lipped Erishal when she sought new souls for her retinue. But this plague came from the south, borne in a merchant ship that slipped through a lax quarantine. Now it droned above the streets in clouds of midges, and spread below from the bites of fleas.
That afternoon, it stalked the palace.
Kingdoms of Dust
He was dreaming when they came for him.
(This is almost certainly not the real first line, but I have a scene I hope to repurpose, and it consoles me to pretend I have a start for the book)
Dreams of Shreds & Tatters
Halloween night, and parties staggered down Granville Street--clubs full of sequins and feathers, costumes and paint and masks. People dressed in shiny new skins, searching for opportunities to shed them. Groping hands and sticky candy kisses, tricks and treats in darkened corners.
Mist & Chill
The Terminal is a dive on its best day.
Even in the lands of flesh it's a dump, a ratty narrow brick and cement place with a single pool table and a cheap precarious stage in the back to hold cheap precarious bands who can't find anyplace better to play. Shitty sound system and shittier plumbing, flickering arrhythmic lights. Fliers plaster the walls, some decades out of date, bands and DJs no one's heard of fading and crumbling and drifting like dead leaves.
(totally not happy with that one)
Prayers to Broken Stone
Springtime in Paris, the cruelest month come and gone, but storms still linger. Tonight rain washes the city, speeding the Seine in its rush to the sea. In the Left Bank, it pours from the gutters and drips from curling wrought iron balconies to splash against the cobbles below. Moisture darkens white walls, new paint and plaster over centuries-old bones. Pigeons sleep beneath the eaves, fat on café crumbs, violet-grey wings folded tight against the chill. And in her apartment on the rue du Dragon, Holly sits beside an open window and watches the rain.
Pinion
Lilah runs and darkness follows.
Branches and briars tear her, rip skin and skirts, and sap clings sticky as blood in her hair. A familiar path, one she's followed unthinking day or night more times than she can count. But now fear blinds her, turns Ogilvie Park's winding trails into a too-dark nightmare maze.
Spiral
The sky hangs dark and swollen overhead, scraping its belly over the spires of Prague. Bianca pauses to wipe her boots on the mat, groceries balanced on her hip. The rain has slacked, of course, now that they've reached the apartment. Water trickles through her hair, warm by the time it drips down her neck and under her collar. She really should buy an umbrella.
The YA novel that will not be called The Night Garden
The bombs fell again that night.
Mad Max Beyond Ragnarok
The stallion came with the dawn, and the rising sun flung his shadow before him over the cracked and dusty ground.
Short Stories:
"Music From a Farther Room"
Alex found his wife waiting on the threshold, at the divide between memory and dream. He was used to finding her here, one of the many memory-ghosts to haunt these halls. But this was different. The door she stood in was one he couldn't cross.
"Bone Garden"
They found the girl unconscious on the back doorstep an hour before dawn.
Nothing unusual, someone passed out in this neighborhood, but she looked too tattered and threadbare for the usual clientele, or for the sort who might linger behind a theatre after a show. Gentian scanned the empty street behind them: shops closed, windows shuttered against the cold, frost-slick cobbles glazed with lamplight. Drunken laughter and voices carried from the next block, but the alley behind the Rhodon was silent.
"Flood"
Nan doesn't mean to fall asleep--she never does. But Evie's soft breath and the steady creak of the ceiling fan lull her, till her eyes sag and the worn paperback slides from her fingers.
"Teneral"
"Take off your mask," the arachne tells me.
"Needlepoint"
You wake crumpled on the floor, legs folded awkwardly and one arm twisted behind your back. The room is dark and still, except for the green blink of the timer behind your right eyelid.
"Red Is the Color"
I wake with the taste of storms in my mouth and screams echoing down the hall. Slow and dream-sticky, and for a second I don't know where I am, but I'm still on my feet with my gun in my hand before my eyes are all the way open.
"Serpentskirt"
All Souls Night and the gutters still brim with shed Hallows skin. Broken glass crunches under Jane's boots as she carries an amp to the van, glittering beside limp feathers and cracked sequins, tattered black and orange fliers. One hell of a party, she heard--Sixth Street is still subdued and sleepy. But even for the day after Halloween and a Monday to boot, the crowd is still better than last night's in Dallas.
"Snakebit"
The horses are restless.
The sound of snorts and hooves tangles through Lanie's nightmares, familiar dreams of fire and smoke. She wakes with a start, sweat sticky on her neck and back. Beside her, Merle stirs with a muffled curse as one of the horses whinnies.
"Waiting For the Train"
When it's raining here, you hear the trains. You can hear them other times too, with the tracks so close, but the dusty heat of summer bakes the sound out of the air, till it gets buried under cars and trucks and TVs and voices and all the other small-town noises. But when the rain comes, and the trains come, the whistles carry all over, low and mournful and rumbling in my chest.
I miss short stories...
- Mood:
daunted - Music:John Hammond - Til the Money Runs Out
First lines meme stolen from yuki_onna because I couldn't resist.
Long Projects:
1. Sir Cedric the Despondent, greatest knight errant in all the land and distant cousin to Prince Charming himself, had killed another dragon. (An Unlikely Tale, tentative title)
2. She awoke to a chorus of bells and the scent of oranges, a little girl, her golden hair as crooked as the springs of a clock, her skin pale as milk. (Marmalade)
3. The rumors concerning my death have been many and all greatly exaggerated. (The Funeral of Shawna Lenore)
4. Lelia Magdalena dreamt that a carriage came like a great black beetle to take her to paradise. (The University)
Short Projects:
1. If Dom Joao de Almeida had been attractive in life, he was even more so after his death. (Dom Joao de Almeida)
2. This is a story about Jack the Ripper, Jack the Maiden-killer, Saucy Jack, Jack jumping over a candlestick and setting London on fire. (Jack)
3. Mr. Timothy Bumble was not a man of great importance. (The Muse Institute)
4. As the bells of the Igreja de São Domingos tolled four o’ clock a beautiful woman entered the Praça Dom Pedro IV and looked about her anxiously. (Pain, very tentatively title, lol)
5. Christoph Theodor Roth enjoyed a certain amount of notoriety in his native H-- for his truly astounding candy shop. (The Magic Candy Shop)
6. When Sebastiao de Mello was born, the youngest of three brothers, no one thought that he would live for very long. (The Dreamer of Dreams or The Man with a Glass Heart)
7. For as long as Yvaine could remember the Forest had stood outside her window, a dark brooding thing to the east of the castle walls. (No idea, but it involves vampires)
Wow, I never noticed how bizarrely disparate my stories are.
Long Projects:
1. Sir Cedric the Despondent, greatest knight errant in all the land and distant cousin to Prince Charming himself, had killed another dragon. (An Unlikely Tale, tentative title)
2. She awoke to a chorus of bells and the scent of oranges, a little girl, her golden hair as crooked as the springs of a clock, her skin pale as milk. (Marmalade)
3. The rumors concerning my death have been many and all greatly exaggerated. (The Funeral of Shawna Lenore)
4. Lelia Magdalena dreamt that a carriage came like a great black beetle to take her to paradise. (The University)
Short Projects:
1. If Dom Joao de Almeida had been attractive in life, he was even more so after his death. (Dom Joao de Almeida)
2. This is a story about Jack the Ripper, Jack the Maiden-killer, Saucy Jack, Jack jumping over a candlestick and setting London on fire. (Jack)
3. Mr. Timothy Bumble was not a man of great importance. (The Muse Institute)
4. As the bells of the Igreja de São Domingos tolled four o’ clock a beautiful woman entered the Praça Dom Pedro IV and looked about her anxiously. (Pain, very tentatively title, lol)
5. Christoph Theodor Roth enjoyed a certain amount of notoriety in his native H-- for his truly astounding candy shop. (The Magic Candy Shop)
6. When Sebastiao de Mello was born, the youngest of three brothers, no one thought that he would live for very long. (The Dreamer of Dreams or The Man with a Glass Heart)
7. For as long as Yvaine could remember the Forest had stood outside her window, a dark brooding thing to the east of the castle walls. (No idea, but it involves vampires)
Wow, I never noticed how bizarrely disparate my stories are.
Tonight, I am attempting to rewrite a very difficult scene. I am rewriting it because I realized it was structurally/narratively a duplication of something that came before, and didn't serve enough purpose, and made a particular character feel like she doesn't grow or change because of that duplication, which is one of the things that my-agent-I-show-you-her has mentioned in her notes. And then I had to turn around and check what that character's motives were, and then scale back up the whole thing from there.
I think I have the underpinnings now. Sort of. And so now I've disassembled the scene itself and I'm moving words around.
Tonight rewriting feels sort of like having a car engine in pieces. I'm sitting on the floor with my gloves on, with paragraphs and spare parts spread out all around me, and I have to stick them back together, or replace, or rewire just so; so it'll make heat and light again. And it has to weigh the right amount and be the right shape, or it won't fit into the rest of the car.
I have the distinct feeling I'd be having an easier time of this if I knew how to field-strip and reassemble some machinery...
(Back to work.)
I think I have the underpinnings now. Sort of. And so now I've disassembled the scene itself and I'm moving words around.
Tonight rewriting feels sort of like having a car engine in pieces. I'm sitting on the floor with my gloves on, with paragraphs and spare parts spread out all around me, and I have to stick them back together, or replace, or rewire just so; so it'll make heat and light again. And it has to weigh the right amount and be the right shape, or it won't fit into the rest of the car.
I have the distinct feeling I'd be having an easier time of this if I knew how to field-strip and reassemble some machinery...
(Back to work.)
- Mood:
thoughtful - Music:Amanda Palmer -- Blake Says
I received this book through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers group ages ago. I’m not a huge superhero fan, but I enjoyed the book. The lack (more or less) of secret identities plus the way the aces worked with various government organizations made it seem more realistic to me.
It’s a mosaic novel, with nine authors writing chapters from the point of view of various characters. Several of the reviewers on LibraryThing said they found it hard to follow (it’s also the 19th book in the Wild Cards series); I had no trouble keeping all the characters straight even though I haven’t ready any of the previous books.
The good and the bad thing about such a structure is that you don’t stay with any given author/character for long. That’s good because I got bogged down in the second “chapter,” which is the first of three by Caroline Spector, but once I got through it the book didn’t go back to that character for quite a while. It’s bad because I could have read a whole novel centered on the character Melinda Snodgrass was writing (Noel). (I’m sure, like in Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series, other readers have completely opposite preferences from me.) Other intriguing storylines belong to Walton Simons and Ian Tregillis (Niobe and Drake) and Victor Milan (Tom and Dolores).
The only major problem was towards the end, when there were some too-abrupt character transformations and plot resolutions. It felt a bit like the authors had been writing happily along and suddenly realized they had almost reached their maximum wordcount.
Mirrored from Scriniary.
1. Job is still good. Today I got to use the cordless drill, they fed me pizza, and I didn't get lost even a little bit.
2. Watching fireworks for the first time with your small child is AWESOME. (well, when your child is especially brave for two and doesn't cry, then it's awesome. for the family next to us, not so awesome.) But babyboy loved it. We had such a good spot. The fireworks seemed to open up right above us.
3. Yesterday, I took babyboy to my hometown where my dad (retired) played with his Air National Guard band in a patriotic concert for the community. Babyboy loves watching his Pop play trombone, and was reasonably well behaved for the concert.
4. Am exhausted--18 hours is a long day.
There are many things to love about my country, and tomorrow I will celebrate some of them.
happy 4th!
2. Watching fireworks for the first time with your small child is AWESOME. (well, when your child is especially brave for two and doesn't cry, then it's awesome. for the family next to us, not so awesome.) But babyboy loved it. We had such a good spot. The fireworks seemed to open up right above us.
3. Yesterday, I took babyboy to my hometown where my dad (retired) played with his Air National Guard band in a patriotic concert for the community. Babyboy loves watching his Pop play trombone, and was reasonably well behaved for the concert.
4. Am exhausted--18 hours is a long day.
There are many things to love about my country, and tomorrow I will celebrate some of them.
happy 4th!
Why didn't anyone tell me that Kakashi Gaiden is finally being animated?
I stopped watching the Naruto anime long ago, but I might have to pick it up again just for this!
I stopped watching the Naruto anime long ago, but I might have to pick it up again just for this!
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/syndicated.gif){kind=small}
Anna, 7th Duchess of Bedford possessed the beauty and hauteur of Lady Susan
If six Jane Austen novels have left you craving for more of her fine writing, and you have not yet read Lady Susan, perhaps now is the right time to read this unusual novel. Epistolary in form, the letters between Mrs. Vernon and her mother, and Lady Susan and her friend, Mrs. Johnson, reveal a calculating woman who will use her daughter and fool around with her friend’s husband in order to get what she wants. Early on the reader learns what an unnatural and unloving a mother Lady Susan is to her daughter, Frederica. Not once does the reader feel sympathy for this anti heroine. Read my review of the novel in this link, Lady Susan, A Vicious Jewel.
- Read it in Classic Reader
- Naxos audio books offers an audio book for purchase , and which is for sale just now. (you can download it for free at this Librivox link).
- And order the Oxford World Classics book here.
Burn the Maps by robanybody. Otherwise known as "Jim and Hikaru Go to White Castle." Total crack-fic, which made me laugh like a loon. And it gets a little naughty at the end (and as everyone knows, I'm 100% pro-Kirk/Sulu).
robanybody. Otherwise known as "Jim and Hikaru Go to White Castle." Total crack-fic, which made me laugh like a loon. And it gets a little naughty at the end (and as everyone knows, I'm 100% pro-Kirk/Sulu).Probably too little and too late, but do any of you Bostonian types want to go see the fireworks over the Charles (Cambridge side) tomorrow? All my usual suspects are out of town or uninterested or otherwise already booked. I may well just trundle on down by myself* and that'll be fine, but unusual suspects are welcome if anybody wants to come (or wants to let me play tagalong)...!
* I may also end up falling asleep an some absurdly early hour the way I did last year, or mistiming my trip down and ending cold and cranky enough to bail before the actual show starts the way I did the year before that. I'm not sure what happened the year before that--think I was with the Quaker house crew for the rehearsal concert on the 2nd or 3rd, but no idea where I was on the 4th. But never fear: my chances of dramatically screwing up are significantly lower if I have somebody else to think about!
* I may also end up falling asleep an some absurdly early hour the way I did last year, or mistiming my trip down and ending cold and cranky enough to bail before the actual show starts the way I did the year before that. I'm not sure what happened the year before that--think I was with the Quaker house crew for the rehearsal concert on the 2nd or 3rd, but no idea where I was on the 4th. But never fear: my chances of dramatically screwing up are significantly lower if I have somebody else to think about!
Internet, O internet. You have failed me tonight.
Why has nobody made a video of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom set to the dulcet strains of the Doom Song?
What have you all been waiting for? Really.
(Videos of Dr. Doom to the Doom Song are also acceptable.)
Why has nobody made a video of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom set to the dulcet strains of the Doom Song?
What have you all been waiting for? Really.
(Videos of Dr. Doom to the Doom Song are also acceptable.)
- Mood:
silly - Music:Doom de doom doom...
1. Hey, baby, it's the fourth of July. Happy birthday, America.
2. Birds flit in and out on the Tube cars all the time when I'm going to work in the morning (sometimes taking a commute to Goldhawk Road.) I leave the door to my balcony wide open all the damn summer and I always expect to come home and find a bird in my flat and never have. I guess even the birds hate the yellow walls and weird mum-flat decorations.
3. I work with a guy, D., who drives me nuts because not only does he not listen, but he thinks he knows how I should prioritize my work [1]. A typical exchange goes like this:
D: What I want to do is hit the schematics really hard, and get them all done by next Friday so we'll be a week ahead.
Me: I told you yesterday I don't have any schematics ready because I can't draw them until after I've done the engineering. (Note: My CAD person has a week backlog of drawing to do for me, so it's not like I'm making her sit idle.)
He also thinks I am going to be done early so he can pull my CAD person[2] early. This isn't going to happen. Not because I am selfish but because I am basically on track to get the job done on time and my days are long enough.[3] He keeps saying "So you are practically done" and I say "No, I really am not" and then he reported to his boss that I was practically done this afternoon anyway.[4]
4. Why aren't I asleep yet? I am glad my neighbor is a bit deaf so I don't really worry about annoying them when I listen to music at time ungodly.
5. Heat wave is well and truly broken. I'm rather chilly.
[1] The problem is he wants to get as much drawn as possible really fast.[5] I need to get the things done that might break the building or have a knock-on effect for a lot of other disciplines first. These are not the things that generate dozens of markups for the CAD people. As overworked as we are, I simply can't generate a bunch of drawings quickly just to make him happy. (And since I've already had a huge pile of markups sit for over a week, I'm not going to add to my already long days just to make more markups because that's his agenda.)
[2]Her initial is also D so I will stick to calling her CAD person because it will make this story too confusing.
[3] In our group this makes me super ahead. Various factors like architects delivering drawings late without any schedule slip means we always have to play catchup.
[4] I almost hollered across the room "No, I'm not" but I figured that would be rude.
[5] I would prefer that things are drawn correctly, not fast.[6]
[6] Yes, it's pretty much always one or the other.
2. Birds flit in and out on the Tube cars all the time when I'm going to work in the morning (sometimes taking a commute to Goldhawk Road.) I leave the door to my balcony wide open all the damn summer and I always expect to come home and find a bird in my flat and never have. I guess even the birds hate the yellow walls and weird mum-flat decorations.
3. I work with a guy, D., who drives me nuts because not only does he not listen, but he thinks he knows how I should prioritize my work [1]. A typical exchange goes like this:
D: What I want to do is hit the schematics really hard, and get them all done by next Friday so we'll be a week ahead.
Me: I told you yesterday I don't have any schematics ready because I can't draw them until after I've done the engineering. (Note: My CAD person has a week backlog of drawing to do for me, so it's not like I'm making her sit idle.)
He also thinks I am going to be done early so he can pull my CAD person[2] early. This isn't going to happen. Not because I am selfish but because I am basically on track to get the job done on time and my days are long enough.[3] He keeps saying "So you are practically done" and I say "No, I really am not" and then he reported to his boss that I was practically done this afternoon anyway.[4]
4. Why aren't I asleep yet? I am glad my neighbor is a bit deaf so I don't really worry about annoying them when I listen to music at time ungodly.
5. Heat wave is well and truly broken. I'm rather chilly.
[1] The problem is he wants to get as much drawn as possible really fast.[5] I need to get the things done that might break the building or have a knock-on effect for a lot of other disciplines first. These are not the things that generate dozens of markups for the CAD people. As overworked as we are, I simply can't generate a bunch of drawings quickly just to make him happy. (And since I've already had a huge pile of markups sit for over a week, I'm not going to add to my already long days just to make more markups because that's his agenda.)
[2]Her initial is also D so I will stick to calling her CAD person because it will make this story too confusing.
[3] In our group this makes me super ahead. Various factors like architects delivering drawings late without any schedule slip means we always have to play catchup.
[4] I almost hollered across the room "No, I'm not" but I figured that would be rude.
[5] I would prefer that things are drawn correctly, not fast.[6]
[6] Yes, it's pretty much always one or the other.
- Music:x - 4th of July
at the edge of a driveway, two pairs of rain boots, left out. Small ones, with handles to help the wearers pull them on. But now they've got water at the bottom. Frogs may hop inside these boots next, or herons may fish in them.
- Music:Jean Ritchie: The Cool of the Day
1. Sarah Palin, the Lady Sybilla of politics, Y/Y?
2. On a walk through the wilds of the Riverwalk this noon, actually on (one of several) beaten path but not the paved one, I saw two different bunnies! One was an adult and the other about the size of my two fists together. They were ordinary brown, white-tailed bunnies, doing ordinary bunny things like running away from the big stompy human, but they deserve an exclamation point anyway.
3. Sean Casey has taken over as color commentator (at home games anyway) for the Red Sox, which is fitting, because he's been known for a while as The Mayor of Boston. Which, considering he spent most of his career in Cincinnati, is kind of a feat. I gather he is actually Mayor of any town he happens to be in (and sometimes Mayor of a park, a clubhouse, or a living room), which is to say he is an incurable chatty Cathy. Yes, he was a first-baseman, the ultimate chatty Cathy position, and retired this past off-season after playing in Boston, being about 6 months older than me. (Urk.) Anyway, he is an ideal candidate for color commentary, except for the fact that he sounds very hoarse at the moment.
He's blabby the same way Dennis Eckersley is blabby, in that way that sounds like it is filling silence rather than adding new material, but his flights of fancy are not nearly as flighty as Eck's. He'll learn, I suppose. I hope he takes elocution lessons too.
3A. I hope they're keeping Dave Roberts on as travel commentator. He is just so cute! Even when you can't see him you know he is just sitting there being cute! I mean, he is also not a moron, which is nice. There need to be more Dave Robertses in the world.
4. The nice thing about a tiny white overlord is that you can take it into the woods with you and type (no, there is no internet in the woods). Except now I have to figure out how to wash tiny globules of what I presume is pine sap off the screen. I mean, in addition to the fingerprints (many).
2. On a walk through the wilds of the Riverwalk this noon, actually on (one of several) beaten path but not the paved one, I saw two different bunnies! One was an adult and the other about the size of my two fists together. They were ordinary brown, white-tailed bunnies, doing ordinary bunny things like running away from the big stompy human, but they deserve an exclamation point anyway.
3. Sean Casey has taken over as color commentator (at home games anyway) for the Red Sox, which is fitting, because he's been known for a while as The Mayor of Boston. Which, considering he spent most of his career in Cincinnati, is kind of a feat. I gather he is actually Mayor of any town he happens to be in (and sometimes Mayor of a park, a clubhouse, or a living room), which is to say he is an incurable chatty Cathy. Yes, he was a first-baseman, the ultimate chatty Cathy position, and retired this past off-season after playing in Boston, being about 6 months older than me. (Urk.) Anyway, he is an ideal candidate for color commentary, except for the fact that he sounds very hoarse at the moment.
He's blabby the same way Dennis Eckersley is blabby, in that way that sounds like it is filling silence rather than adding new material, but his flights of fancy are not nearly as flighty as Eck's. He'll learn, I suppose. I hope he takes elocution lessons too.
3A. I hope they're keeping Dave Roberts on as travel commentator. He is just so cute! Even when you can't see him you know he is just sitting there being cute! I mean, he is also not a moron, which is nice. There need to be more Dave Robertses in the world.
4. The nice thing about a tiny white overlord is that you can take it into the woods with you and type (no, there is no internet in the woods). Except now I have to figure out how to wash tiny globules of what I presume is pine sap off the screen. I mean, in addition to the fingerprints (many).
This morning, I went climbing with a friend of the mighty Kij's (just bouldering, as we were pressed for time) at Seattle's Stone Gardens climbing gym. The bouldering was good--no idea how many problems we attemped, but I found most of the v0s and v1s doable, and I even tried a v2 or two. Sadly, I do not have a lot of courage for bouldering, but I am doing better than I was, and it was really, really good to get out and climb. I'm going to try to go out at least one afternoon next week, because my students will like me much better if I get some exercise around the pedagogy.
I got my hair chopped and highlighted again, and it feels great. I can't do long hair anymore, not even 2-inch long hair. Especially not in this heat.
In other news, I totally failed to remark on the fact that my LiveJournal had its eighth birthday on June 13. Eight years of this crap, and somehow I still have friends. The mind boggles.
Now, I must go do things. What things, I will not say. But things.
In other news, I totally failed to remark on the fact that my LiveJournal had its eighth birthday on June 13. Eight years of this crap, and somehow I still have friends. The mind boggles.
Now, I must go do things. What things, I will not say. But things.
Some of the sky was blue, but some was dark gray--there were billowing clouds of white and gray, and blowing in front of them, fragments of clouds of darker gray. I was walking along, and from a patch of deep gray cloud, across a patch of white cloud, I saw a sharp flash.
I thought, it's like a shooting star, but it's bright daytime, so it can't be that. But it's too fast and disappeary for an airplane.
And then there was a thunderclap, and I knew I'd seen a lightning arrow--a sharp, straight dart of lightning that flashed not from earth to sky or sky to earth, but straight from cloud to cloud.
I took a picture, after the fact, of the origin cloud:
Then there was the sound of rain before the sight or feel of rain, and then down it came, and for a few seconds I could walk between the raindrops, but then there were too many of them. Then there was a torrential downpour, and now, it's stopped, and in a minute it will be sunny again. It's an exciting day for weather. The power's gone out twice as I try to write this.
The rain makes me think of this lovely part in Cloud & Ashes, which I just read:
I read, first, "beyond all hoping"--heart soars as worlds are created. But "hooping" is right, too.
I thought, it's like a shooting star, but it's bright daytime, so it can't be that. But it's too fast and disappeary for an airplane.
And then there was a thunderclap, and I knew I'd seen a lightning arrow--a sharp, straight dart of lightning that flashed not from earth to sky or sky to earth, but straight from cloud to cloud.
I took a picture, after the fact, of the origin cloud:
Then there was the sound of rain before the sight or feel of rain, and then down it came, and for a few seconds I could walk between the raindrops, but then there were too many of them. Then there was a torrential downpour, and now, it's stopped, and in a minute it will be sunny again. It's an exciting day for weather. The power's gone out twice as I try to write this.
The rain makes me think of this lovely part in Cloud & Ashes, which I just read:
She stooped and flicked a pebble up the stream. It skipped and started, skipped and sank. And at each leap--O wonderful, beyond all hooping--worlds began. As in her glass, enhaloing and interlaced. A skein of stories.
She was happy; and in shadow.
And yet more worlds, unbidden, came. There. And there. Outspreading. How--? Ah, rain. She heard the pattering on leaves. The river dimpled with the dint of rain.
Greer Gilman, Cloud & Ashes (Easthampton, MA: Small Beer Press, 2009), 169.
I read, first, "beyond all hoping"--heart soars as worlds are created. But "hooping" is right, too.
- Music:The Decemberists: The Abduction of Margaret
Waiting for those burgers to finish cooking? You can always read how Jackie Tyler and Donna Noble went to see Twilight. There is texting. And drinking. And...you probably don't want to read it if you have any sort of good feelings towards Twilight in general. :D
- Mood:
amused
We have in St. Louis one of the best regional opera companies, Opera Theatre of St. Louis. Indeed, it's not just "in St. Louis", it's in Webster Groves, my suburb, walking distance from my house. For the past couple of years I've been attending OTSL performances, one or two a year.
This year at first I thought I might get full season tickets. All four operas seemed worth a try. "The Ghosts of Versailles", by John Corigliani, is a celebrated contemporary piece (dating to 1990 or so) that is reputed to even have singable tunes (rare, one hears, in contemporary opera). "Il re Pastore" is early and minor Mozart, but it's Mozart, in the final analysis still probably my favorite "classical" composer. "Salome" is a major opera, obviously, and besides it would have Kelly Kaduce naked ... Well, that's a bad reason to want to see an opera, but hey, Kelly Kaduce is pretty attractive besides being a very fine soprano. And in all seriousness "Salome" is, salacious appeal aside, regarded as a first-rate work. And finally "La Boheme" -- one of the two or three most favorite operas of all time.
Anyway I dithered about dates and waited too long and missed the season ticket deadline. And I dithered some more, and when I looked at available tickets, all the cheap seats ($25 or $50) were gone. Mary Ann isn't really a big opera fan, so she finally said you go by yourself and we'll save some money. So I ended up buying a single $75 ticket to just one opera -- "La Boheme".
"La Boheme" is by Giacomo Puccini, who also composed "Madama Butterfly", which I saw last year. The famous contemporary musical Rent is based on "La Boheme", with some substitutions: New York for Paris, AIDS for consumption, "rock" music (or something like -- pretty good music, anyway), for "classical".
"La Boheme", as with most operas, has a very simple story. To my taste, way too simple. In the first act, we meet four young artists living in poverty in the Latin Quarter of Paris: Marcello (a painter), Colline (a philosopher), Schaunard (a musician), and Rodolfo (a playwright). They lament their poverty, going so far as to burn the manuscript of Rodolfo's lastest work for heat, then manage to outwit their landlord of the rent, and, newly flush, head out to a bar. Rodolfo stays behind, and meets a neighbor, the seamstress Mimi, and before you can say "character development -- who needs character development?" they are in love. The second act is at the bar, and here we meet the other important woman, Musetta, formerly Marcello's lover, who appears on the arm of her latest "protector", but is soon reconciled with Marcello.
Act 3 is some time later. Mimi and Rodolfo have broken up. Rodolfo at first tries to convince Marcello that he dumped her because she has been flirting with other man, but it becomes clear that he is really worried about her illness -- consumption, or tuberculosis -- and that he in his poverty can't afford to have her live in a comfortable enough home, with consistent warmth and medical treatment, so he hopes she will find a wealthier lover. But Mimi has overheard him, and the two reconcile.
In the final Act, Marcello and Rodolfo have again left their lovers. But Musetta returns, and reveals that Mimi has left her new, wealthy, lover, and is wandering the streets, close to her death. Musetta and Marcello again reconcile, and all Rodolfo's friends try to help Mimi (selling an overcoat to hire a doctor, for instance) but it is too late, and she dies shortly after meeting Rodolfo for one last time.
Well, the point of operas isn't usually the story. The point is the music. The problem for me here is that, for some reason, the music here, except at the very end, while nice enough, didn't thrill me as much as that of, say, "La Traviata" or "Madama Butterfly". For that simple reason, I have to rank "La Boheme" probably last among the operas I've seen in the past few years. Not that it was bad, really -- not at all. But I just didn't like as much as the others I saw.
I probably wasn't helped by my seat. It turns out that for $75 what I got was a front row seat. Which I really didn't want. And it was the very last seat on the rightmost edge of the stage. Now my view of the action was OK -- just fine really. And I could hear the songs beautifully. But I couldn't see the "supertitles", which I admit perhaps I shouldn't need, as all OTSL productions are in English, but you know sometimes it's hard to understand the words anyway. And really the front row is just a bit too close.
The main players: Rodolfo was Derek Taylor, Mimi was Alyson Cambridge, Marcello was Timothy Mix, Musetta was Amanda Majeski, Colline was Steven Humes, and Schaunard was Eugene Chan. (The casting was race-neutral, as with all OTSL productions as far as I can tell, and that works beautifully in my opinion.) I'm not really a great judge of singers at this level, but I thought everyone did very well.
After the opera I proved my point about the theater being in walking distance as I walked home, mainly for the exercise, but also to avoid bothering Mary Ann, or Geoff, the latter having dropped me off to avoid parking fees. It was a very hot night, so a bit uncomfortable for that reason, but an enjoyable half-hour walk otherwise.
This year at first I thought I might get full season tickets. All four operas seemed worth a try. "The Ghosts of Versailles", by John Corigliani, is a celebrated contemporary piece (dating to 1990 or so) that is reputed to even have singable tunes (rare, one hears, in contemporary opera). "Il re Pastore" is early and minor Mozart, but it's Mozart, in the final analysis still probably my favorite "classical" composer. "Salome" is a major opera, obviously, and besides it would have Kelly Kaduce naked ... Well, that's a bad reason to want to see an opera, but hey, Kelly Kaduce is pretty attractive besides being a very fine soprano. And in all seriousness "Salome" is, salacious appeal aside, regarded as a first-rate work. And finally "La Boheme" -- one of the two or three most favorite operas of all time.
Anyway I dithered about dates and waited too long and missed the season ticket deadline. And I dithered some more, and when I looked at available tickets, all the cheap seats ($25 or $50) were gone. Mary Ann isn't really a big opera fan, so she finally said you go by yourself and we'll save some money. So I ended up buying a single $75 ticket to just one opera -- "La Boheme".
"La Boheme" is by Giacomo Puccini, who also composed "Madama Butterfly", which I saw last year. The famous contemporary musical Rent is based on "La Boheme", with some substitutions: New York for Paris, AIDS for consumption, "rock" music (or something like -- pretty good music, anyway), for "classical".
"La Boheme", as with most operas, has a very simple story. To my taste, way too simple. In the first act, we meet four young artists living in poverty in the Latin Quarter of Paris: Marcello (a painter), Colline (a philosopher), Schaunard (a musician), and Rodolfo (a playwright). They lament their poverty, going so far as to burn the manuscript of Rodolfo's lastest work for heat, then manage to outwit their landlord of the rent, and, newly flush, head out to a bar. Rodolfo stays behind, and meets a neighbor, the seamstress Mimi, and before you can say "character development -- who needs character development?" they are in love. The second act is at the bar, and here we meet the other important woman, Musetta, formerly Marcello's lover, who appears on the arm of her latest "protector", but is soon reconciled with Marcello.
Act 3 is some time later. Mimi and Rodolfo have broken up. Rodolfo at first tries to convince Marcello that he dumped her because she has been flirting with other man, but it becomes clear that he is really worried about her illness -- consumption, or tuberculosis -- and that he in his poverty can't afford to have her live in a comfortable enough home, with consistent warmth and medical treatment, so he hopes she will find a wealthier lover. But Mimi has overheard him, and the two reconcile.
In the final Act, Marcello and Rodolfo have again left their lovers. But Musetta returns, and reveals that Mimi has left her new, wealthy, lover, and is wandering the streets, close to her death. Musetta and Marcello again reconcile, and all Rodolfo's friends try to help Mimi (selling an overcoat to hire a doctor, for instance) but it is too late, and she dies shortly after meeting Rodolfo for one last time.
Well, the point of operas isn't usually the story. The point is the music. The problem for me here is that, for some reason, the music here, except at the very end, while nice enough, didn't thrill me as much as that of, say, "La Traviata" or "Madama Butterfly". For that simple reason, I have to rank "La Boheme" probably last among the operas I've seen in the past few years. Not that it was bad, really -- not at all. But I just didn't like as much as the others I saw.
I probably wasn't helped by my seat. It turns out that for $75 what I got was a front row seat. Which I really didn't want. And it was the very last seat on the rightmost edge of the stage. Now my view of the action was OK -- just fine really. And I could hear the songs beautifully. But I couldn't see the "supertitles", which I admit perhaps I shouldn't need, as all OTSL productions are in English, but you know sometimes it's hard to understand the words anyway. And really the front row is just a bit too close.
The main players: Rodolfo was Derek Taylor, Mimi was Alyson Cambridge, Marcello was Timothy Mix, Musetta was Amanda Majeski, Colline was Steven Humes, and Schaunard was Eugene Chan. (The casting was race-neutral, as with all OTSL productions as far as I can tell, and that works beautifully in my opinion.) I'm not really a great judge of singers at this level, but I thought everyone did very well.
After the opera I proved my point about the theater being in walking distance as I walked home, mainly for the exercise, but also to avoid bothering Mary Ann, or Geoff, the latter having dropped me off to avoid parking fees. It was a very hot night, so a bit uncomfortable for that reason, but an enjoyable half-hour walk otherwise.
Monday, Verity and I had a read-in. Mostly I did the reading and she watched TV, but she did some bookish things, too. :-D
I managed to get a load of reading and work in this week, since I wasn't online much. That's good -- very good. Revision is -that- much closer to be done, so...much rejoicing?
Last night, we went down to Grove City College to visit the Worldview team. One of boy's best buds (and his best man at the wedding) was teaching, and we got to sit in on the Seven Sweet Lies lecture -- it was awesome and hard-hitting. Afterwards, we went out to the staff meeting, and I got to talk books and publishing with Mark Bertrand, whose first novel is coming out next year. He's a very cool guy, and I'm grateful to have met him. Mark, if you stumble across this, hi, and thank you!
Tonight we're going to take Verity to fireworks...and I'm hoping it goes better than last year. *cough* Then she's off to Mena & Papa's, and hopefully I'll have another 10k added to the Revision of Doom tomorrow! OY!
All right. Off to make dinner. See y'all later!
I managed to get a load of reading and work in this week, since I wasn't online much. That's good -- very good. Revision is -that- much closer to be done, so...much rejoicing?
Last night, we went down to Grove City College to visit the Worldview team. One of boy's best buds (and his best man at the wedding) was teaching, and we got to sit in on the Seven Sweet Lies lecture -- it was awesome and hard-hitting. Afterwards, we went out to the staff meeting, and I got to talk books and publishing with Mark Bertrand, whose first novel is coming out next year. He's a very cool guy, and I'm grateful to have met him. Mark, if you stumble across this, hi, and thank you!
Tonight we're going to take Verity to fireworks...and I'm hoping it goes better than last year. *cough* Then she's off to Mena & Papa's, and hopefully I'll have another 10k added to the Revision of Doom tomorrow! OY!
All right. Off to make dinner. See y'all later!
I've surprised myself by getting hooked on two Wii games.
No, I take that back. Cradle of Rome didn't surprise me. The hypnotic effect combined with the puzzles made it perfect for me. Cordelia does not like it when I play Cradle of Rome. It's dull to watch, and she doesn't actually understand it. She's trying to play now, but mostly clicks randomly. I think she'll have to keep quitting and starting over from the beginning as the levels start to get really hard. There's a point at which random clicking will not work.
The other game is more recent-- Animal Crossing: City Folk. I'm not sure why I'm hooked. It's kind of dull in many ways because I have no interest in talking to the characters that populate our town (called 'Chicago' because that was the first town Cordelia thought of). I'm bad at catching insects and only middling at fishing. I'm mostly uninterested in the clothing and furniture. Still, it's very low stress. There's something pleasant about a mortgage that gets paid off rapidly and that can be paid off without suffering.
I'm finding, though, that I want more space to explore. I'm remembering one of the first Wii games I successfully played, Petz: Dogz 2. I found that stressful because all the snakes and such interfered with wandering around and exploring. I liked having quests and trying to find things in different environments (with different challenges), but I didn't want to deal with getting attacked or have to attack anything myself. (The narrative cut scenes were also horribly long and dull, but that's another complaint.)
I know that Animal Crossing has some form of networking capability. I don't know how it works. I also don't know that it would give me what I actually want (more space to explore). Anybody have any experience with it? How does it work?
Is there another game out there that will give me something halfway between Animal Crossing: City Folk and Petz: Dogz 2?
How about more games like Cradle of Rome?
We have GameFly, so I can try stuff out. The other favorite for me has been Ultimate I Spy, but that's a play through once and then wait a long time to go through again game. We've loaned it tocherydactyl. I expect that we'll get it back about the time that Cordelia has the patience to play it herself.
No, I take that back. Cradle of Rome didn't surprise me. The hypnotic effect combined with the puzzles made it perfect for me. Cordelia does not like it when I play Cradle of Rome. It's dull to watch, and she doesn't actually understand it. She's trying to play now, but mostly clicks randomly. I think she'll have to keep quitting and starting over from the beginning as the levels start to get really hard. There's a point at which random clicking will not work.
The other game is more recent-- Animal Crossing: City Folk. I'm not sure why I'm hooked. It's kind of dull in many ways because I have no interest in talking to the characters that populate our town (called 'Chicago' because that was the first town Cordelia thought of). I'm bad at catching insects and only middling at fishing. I'm mostly uninterested in the clothing and furniture. Still, it's very low stress. There's something pleasant about a mortgage that gets paid off rapidly and that can be paid off without suffering.
I'm finding, though, that I want more space to explore. I'm remembering one of the first Wii games I successfully played, Petz: Dogz 2. I found that stressful because all the snakes and such interfered with wandering around and exploring. I liked having quests and trying to find things in different environments (with different challenges), but I didn't want to deal with getting attacked or have to attack anything myself. (The narrative cut scenes were also horribly long and dull, but that's another complaint.)
I know that Animal Crossing has some form of networking capability. I don't know how it works. I also don't know that it would give me what I actually want (more space to explore). Anybody have any experience with it? How does it work?
Is there another game out there that will give me something halfway between Animal Crossing: City Folk and Petz: Dogz 2?
How about more games like Cradle of Rome?
We have GameFly, so I can try stuff out. The other favorite for me has been Ultimate I Spy, but that's a play through once and then wait a long time to go through again game. We've loaned it to
cherydactyl. I expect that we'll get it back about the time that Cordelia has the patience to play it herself. According to several news reports, Sarah Palin is resigning in the midst of her term as Governor of Alsaka. Huh... That seems to be a bizarre move, and not one a person who is considering running for POTUS should take... I guess we'll see how this all falls out. Even the Republican pundits seem to be scratching their heads over this one.
Be careful out there.
Herr Granada, Alma Fedora in their own invention, the revolving pyrotechnic fountain marvellous high wire artists. (from Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, Washington, DC)
1. Why do stores insist on knowing more than your name rank, serial number & credit card number before you can return a piece of clothing?
Even my usual evasive maneuvers -- asking "Why do you need to know that?" or fibbing that my phone number is unlisted -- aren't working as well as they used to. The other day I was reduced to giving a fake postal code.
2. Will the fad for character names with extraneous vowels ever end? Or, as Jane from Dear Author puts it, why do paranormal creatures have such a hard time spelling?
What are you wondering today?
Even my usual evasive maneuvers -- asking "Why do you need to know that?" or fibbing that my phone number is unlisted -- aren't working as well as they used to. The other day I was reduced to giving a fake postal code.
2. Will the fad for character names with extraneous vowels ever end? Or, as Jane from Dear Author puts it, why do paranormal creatures have such a hard time spelling?
What are you wondering today?
Okay, I couldn't resist the title, sorry. I got my LP done yesterday, and my pressure was still high. Higher, in fact, than it was in December. So they drained fluid from my spine for over an hour, which HURT, and now I have a lovely low pressure headache. I have to lay flat on my back or the pain comes rushing in, accompanied by nausea and dizziness. Funny how the brain likes to have a cushion of fluid around it, and if you take that away, all hell breaks loose. I really hope I can be back up and around by Monday at the latest, for the sake of my hubbie not missing any work. Being up sooner than that would be spiffy, because I would like to see fireworks tomorrow night, go to church on Sunday, spend time with my family, etc. In the meantime, I'm stuck in bed or on the couch, and I can't even get up to use the bathroom without the pain coming to pay me a visit. It is still there when I lay down, but at least it's manageable. Unlike the last time after my LP in December when no one warned me about a low pressure headache and I had to take an ambulance back to the ER due to having the worst pain in my life.
It's at least a good thing that the house is clean. I miss playing with my kids and making my own meals though. I hope this is over soon!
It's at least a good thing that the house is clean. I miss playing with my kids and making my own meals though. I hope this is over soon!
In today's paper, there's an article about Mark N. pleading innocent to stealing some signs (the background to this is a really long story).
In yesterday's paper, Mark N. wrote a letter to the editor in which he said "I admit my culpability and would like to apologize for my behavior." Am I missing something here? I can't help thinking that his public apology isn't going to help his case much.
In yesterday's paper, Mark N. wrote a letter to the editor in which he said "I admit my culpability and would like to apologize for my behavior." Am I missing something here? I can't help thinking that his public apology isn't going to help his case much.
A lot of people think of science fiction as predictive--as if those of us who write it are actually trying to forecast the future.
Nonsense, say I.
SF's track record at prediction is pretty abysmal. Think about it: back in 1950, no one, not even SF writers, envisioned computers that could fit in the palm of your hand. And we were supposed to have bases on the moon eight years ago.
Prediction is a mugg's game. If I'm writing a story about the future, I'm not trying to predict a thing. I'm just trying to tell a story--and if I do it right, maybe plumb a bit of the human condition while I'm at it. Futuristic tech or extrapolation from current trends? Yeah, they can be cool, but they're really just means to an end.
Even so, a broken clock still is right twice a day.
In my story "Fuel" (available online at Cosmos), I wrote about a near future in which sports are ascendant in society to a ridiculous degree. Consider this bit:
I guess that wasn't as far-fetched as I thought. Or maybe I just didn't think we'd reach this point so soon.
At this rate, "Fuel" will look hopelessly dated in another few years. Yeesh.
Oh, well. Recruiting is a mugg's game, too. Lane Kiffin will find that out soon enough.
Nonsense, say I.
SF's track record at prediction is pretty abysmal. Think about it: back in 1950, no one, not even SF writers, envisioned computers that could fit in the palm of your hand. And we were supposed to have bases on the moon eight years ago.
Prediction is a mugg's game. If I'm writing a story about the future, I'm not trying to predict a thing. I'm just trying to tell a story--and if I do it right, maybe plumb a bit of the human condition while I'm at it. Futuristic tech or extrapolation from current trends? Yeah, they can be cool, but they're really just means to an end.
Even so, a broken clock still is right twice a day.
In my story "Fuel" (available online at Cosmos), I wrote about a near future in which sports are ascendant in society to a ridiculous degree. Consider this bit:
Dad clapped him on the shoulder. "Jamie, you're twelve years old now. It's really important that you find your best sport. College recruiters are already contacting boys your age."
Jamie thought of his best friend Russell, who had just received his first recruiting letter the other day, from Penn State. Jamie hung his head even lower.
Jamie thought of his best friend Russell, who had just received his first recruiting letter the other day, from Penn State. Jamie hung his head even lower.
I guess that wasn't as far-fetched as I thought. Or maybe I just didn't think we'd reach this point so soon.
At this rate, "Fuel" will look hopelessly dated in another few years. Yeesh.
Oh, well. Recruiting is a mugg's game, too. Lane Kiffin will find that out soon enough.
- Location:On the cusp
- Music:"Superconductor"--Rush
Sales since last we spoke, dear Friends & Strangers:
~ "Monday, the Wager" - a dark microfic piece to Utility Fog Press's Assassin's Creed anthology.
~ "The Price of Osmosis" - the only piece I ever set out to write as horrific. Does this make it Horror? Or more of a horror story than other tales? Not sure. Will probably never get on board with strict genre classifications. Am unapologetic. Sold this one to the Raw Terror anthology from Read Raw Press, promoting creative writing in Scotland (Yay!!!)
~ "Slumber Party Massacre: Rita Mae Brown Makes a Messy Statement" - a nonfic collaboration with Bar Pilot Extraordinaire John Chandler, sold to the Dark Scribe Press nonfic anthology, Butcher Knives and Body Counts: Essays on the Formula, Frights, and Fun of the Slasher Film. A very interesting project, and an amazing co-author . . .
~ "now all things have been used at least once," a poem which in just a few short days went from acceptance to publication over at Polu Texni. This is an excellent publication with some fascinating archived back-issue fiction and poetry. [free PDF, with fellow contributors Paul Walthier, Meghan Arkenham, and I.E. Lester]
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Congratulations to Expanded Horizons on their lovely new layout. Their reprinting of "Night Vaulting" [aka "The Italian"] can now be found here. Congrats as well to David Levine for Space Magic's short-list nomination for the Endeavor Award. If you haven't already, go read Jessica Reisman's "Our Lady of the Mantilla," Tina Connolly's amazing "Turning the Apples," "The Wedding Dress Tea Parties of 2443" by Merrie Haskell," and if you have time, my fib poem "Large Beast" on AlienSkin Magazine (or even PUSH OF THE SKY, by Camille Alexa! Available from Amazon, B&N, and Powell's Books). Also check out Todd Wheeler's 2009 Summer Reading Program benefitting the Children's Literary Foundation, sponsored by Montpelier's Bear Pond Books. [Thanks to Steve Buchheit for the reminder.]
. . . That'll teach me to wait so long between postings. Writing day tomorrow @ my house. Happy July 4!
Eric, the main character of Ken Loach’s “Looking for Eric”, is in a rut: he’s on his own for raising his two stepsons, a truant and a delinquent; he lost the love of his live twenty years ago; and, just recovered from a serious car accident, is unable to muster enough dynamism to properly do his job. His life is increasingly slipping away from him–until one night, his idol Eric Cantona appears to him and tries to get him to change…
OK, when I first saw the trailer for this, the idea seemed pretty ridiculous. I mean, how can you even think Cantona would make a decent guardian angel? Plus, the only other Ken Loach movie I saw in its entirety was Land and Freedom, set during the Spanish civil war: I was forced to sit through several viewings of it in Spanish class and was not very much amused or enthralled.
However, this one works. Loach’s always been very good at depicting the lives of working-class men, and here he paints a quiet, tender picture of the fraternity of postmen (and football fans in their spare time). It could have been a very grim movie, since it deals with lots of violence and harsh facts of life–but instead, it’s a gently absurdist fable about taking charge of one’s life. Loach doesn’t shy away from the grimness of Eric’s life, but the darkness acts as counterpart to plenty of laugh-out loud moments (the scenes between Cantona and Steve Evets, who plays Eric, are brilliant tongue-in-cheek fun). The finale was made of awesome Monty Python silliness.
I actually walked out of this one smiling, and that is no mean feat.
Cross-posted from Aliette de Bodard
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To celebrate our graduation from beta testing, AnthologyBuilder invites authors of all skill levels to choose their favorite cover art from our database and write a story to match it. Contest Entries should be unpublished, between 1,000 and 50,000 words in length, and submitted on or before September 20, 2009.
Because our site hosts a wide variety of science fiction and fantasy artwork, we expect that most submissions will fall into those genres. Nevertheless, submissions in all genres are welcome.
Winners will receive up to $200, plus AB gift certificates. There is no entry fee.
Official Rules
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
Because our site hosts a wide variety of science fiction and fantasy artwork, we expect that most submissions will fall into those genres. Nevertheless, submissions in all genres are welcome.
Winners will receive up to $200, plus AB gift certificates. There is no entry fee.
Official Rules
For a time Diet Soap had a poetry editor who was competent and good. Camille Alexa, however, has moved on to greater projects including writing her own works. What this means is that, in the last few months, the dietsoap poetry email box has gone unchecked. Sure Camille told us that she was leaving and she reminded us to check the email, but responsiblity tends to spread and given that I didn’t have the password for the email and that MK Hobson, who did have password, is the designer of the print ‘zine and no longer an editor reading submissions, the poetry email box was dormant until yesterday.
And here’s the bad news:
When we logged into the poetry@dietsoap.org email box we found that somehow this address had been corrupted. There was nothing there anymore. It was neither receiving nor sending emails anymore. Something got broke.
So, if you want to send poetry to Diet Soap send it to me at douglain@dietsoap.org, and if you’ve sent poetry to Diet Soap and haven’t heard back from us, send again.
Originally published at Diet Soap. Please leave any comments there.
I'm one of the judges for AnthologyBuilder's Match That Artwork contest.
I'm readying for the ReaderCon trip. I don't believe I'm on any panels, but I look forward to listening to a lot of them and visiting with a bunch of people.
Post ReaderCon, I am sticking around NYC for a few days and reading with Samuel R. Delany, Kristine Dikeman, and Jack Womack at the KGB Bar in NYC on July 15th. I will be leaving on Friday..
The collection will be available on August 1, 2009 and can be preordered here. There will be a few copies on the Prime Books table.
I had to rethink the trip post NYC from South Bend to Seattle for family reasons. I'm waiting to hear back to see whether or not it's entirely cancelled, but right now I'm assuming that it is. This situation has been occupying me for the past couple of days and I apologize for being unresponsive to e-mails, I'm working at catching up right now, and will know by next week what parts of the trip are cancelled. I will still be reading in South Bend on July 21 or 22, and should know those details soon.
I'm readying for the ReaderCon trip. I don't believe I'm on any panels, but I look forward to listening to a lot of them and visiting with a bunch of people.
Post ReaderCon, I am sticking around NYC for a few days and reading with Samuel R. Delany, Kristine Dikeman, and Jack Womack at the KGB Bar in NYC on July 15th. I will be leaving on Friday..
The collection will be available on August 1, 2009 and can be preordered here. There will be a few copies on the Prime Books table.
I had to rethink the trip post NYC from South Bend to Seattle for family reasons. I'm waiting to hear back to see whether or not it's entirely cancelled, but right now I'm assuming that it is. This situation has been occupying me for the past couple of days and I apologize for being unresponsive to e-mails, I'm working at catching up right now, and will know by next week what parts of the trip are cancelled. I will still be reading in South Bend on July 21 or 22, and should know those details soon.
- Mood:
exanimate - Music:Laurie Anderson - Baby Doll
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