Disclaimer:
All opinions expressed in this LJ are mine, unless otherwise indicated. They are certainly not those of my employer(s). They are also not the opinions of LiveJournal; I just volunteer here.
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Monday, 0201: Everybody Let Go - Bases Loaded (Star Trek 2009: Vulcan sex is interesting. NSFW.) http://kyliselle.livejournal.com/5392.h
tml - Monday, 0214: WIP no more! "These Things Were Promises" (Holmes/Watson, NSFW) finished! Final bit: http://paperclipbitch.livejournal.com/1
30726.html - Monday, 0308: Also shared my synthesis of the "woe ass" story with beginningcocks: http://beginningcocks.dreamwidth.org/95
98.html - Monday, 0355: Free hint to a guy who danced with a chick with a cane at #DNAlounge at the #AbneyPark show: http://azurelunatic.dreamwidth.org/6364
279.html - Monday, 0549: One could theoretically get into an infinite pattern of mutual game-loss from me declaring this on Twitter and next morning's LJ twitter log ( read the other 14 )
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It's a community kind of night; this was also just seen at
accessibility_fail.
If you are out clubbing, and you see someone with whom you would like to dance, and lo, she is boogeying most righteously, more power to the both of you.
If you see that in addition to her righteous boogeying, she is incorporating the use of a cane, hey, there is a noble history of the use of canes in dance, from tap to Egyptian dance. Even though her cane looks more like it came from Walgreen's than any sort of dance supply establishment.
You may even be so bold as to take her free hand, if it's the sort of establishment where one touches one's fellow dancers, and she does not seem opposed to the concept.
One does not grab the hand with the cane.
One does not lift the hand with the cane from where it's been keeping the cane in fairly close contact with the floor.
Yea, even though she may be boogeying most fucking righteously, do not make the mistake of assuming that because the cane is not actively holding her up all of the time and she is stepping about in a sprightly fashion, that she does not actually need that cane for things like keeping her balance, catching herself in the event of sudden knee pain from a misstep, and the occasional bit of active-holding-up as she burns through her stamina.
Dancing like crazy with a cane and complete confidence is, after all, a much better option for her than hobbling around caneless and being stymied by stairs, and fearing to walk further than a block in case her knees should betray her. This is, after all, the weekend club scene in the city, and who the fuck willingly drives in San Francisco when there are other options?
One does not repeatedly yank the hand with the cane around.
One does not engage in an arm-wrestling match for control of where her hand (with the cane) is.
Even though she might not have immediately slapped you silly, this is still not okay. She might have been too shocked and appalled, and too unwilling to start shit on the dance floor when she was having fucking fun and out actually dancing for the first time in fucking years, and the first time with a cane, in celebration of her increased mobility.
In fact, this may be the first time that she's ever had to deal with someone being an appalling creep about the goddamn cane, and she may not be used to setting boundaries like that, because it's never come up before.
Because the vast majority of people are not drunk as fuck assholes who arm-wrestle you for control of your fucking cane, you idiot.
Crossposted.
comments.
If you are out clubbing, and you see someone with whom you would like to dance, and lo, she is boogeying most righteously, more power to the both of you.
If you see that in addition to her righteous boogeying, she is incorporating the use of a cane, hey, there is a noble history of the use of canes in dance, from tap to Egyptian dance. Even though her cane looks more like it came from Walgreen's than any sort of dance supply establishment.
You may even be so bold as to take her free hand, if it's the sort of establishment where one touches one's fellow dancers, and she does not seem opposed to the concept.
One does not grab the hand with the cane.
One does not lift the hand with the cane from where it's been keeping the cane in fairly close contact with the floor.
Yea, even though she may be boogeying most fucking righteously, do not make the mistake of assuming that because the cane is not actively holding her up all of the time and she is stepping about in a sprightly fashion, that she does not actually need that cane for things like keeping her balance, catching herself in the event of sudden knee pain from a misstep, and the occasional bit of active-holding-up as she burns through her stamina.
Dancing like crazy with a cane and complete confidence is, after all, a much better option for her than hobbling around caneless and being stymied by stairs, and fearing to walk further than a block in case her knees should betray her. This is, after all, the weekend club scene in the city, and who the fuck willingly drives in San Francisco when there are other options?
One does not repeatedly yank the hand with the cane around.
One does not engage in an arm-wrestling match for control of where her hand (with the cane) is.
Even though she might not have immediately slapped you silly, this is still not okay. She might have been too shocked and appalled, and too unwilling to start shit on the dance floor when she was having fucking fun and out actually dancing for the first time in fucking years, and the first time with a cane, in celebration of her increased mobility.
In fact, this may be the first time that she's ever had to deal with someone being an appalling creep about the goddamn cane, and she may not be used to setting boundaries like that, because it's never come up before.
Because the vast majority of people are not drunk as fuck assholes who arm-wrestle you for control of your fucking cane, you idiot.
Crossposted.
- Location:The DNA Lounge, San Francisco, CA
- Mood:
cranky
- Music:Abney Park, 2010 Feb 06, way the fuck early in the morning
- Mood:don't do like this guy.
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Sunday, 0349: I need a 'bells and whistles' icon.
- Sunday, 0352: @emptybackpack Surgewise, just fine. Load on the wires-wise, not so great; don't plug high-draw appliances into that circuit anywhere.
- Sunday, 0356: @nbelitz *holds*
- Sunday, 0357: @tiferet93 *dies laughing*
- Sunday, 0402: @donttrythis I hope it wasn't Twilight. ( read the other 28 )
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- Saturday, 0017: "mandolin is fucking metal!" overheard at DNA lounge
- Saturday, 0128: And lo, the promised #abneypark #mandolin was epic!
- Saturday, 0223: Learning to dance with cane, not in spite of it. Had jitterbug with grabby drunk guy, dance near cutest guy, dance with other cute guy.
- Saturday, 0240: Right, and that other drunk guy smooched my cheek. He had nice perfume.
- Saturday, 0427: One hour and a cancellation later, the bus! ( read the other 15 )
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Abney Park came to town again, this time at the DNA Lounge. Having taken a shine to them last year, I was determined to go this year. My determination took a bit of a dive when I spent the better part of the morning miserably ill, and my walk with my aunt did not reassure me that I was up for even walking there, but I decided that I'd have a bit of a lie-down and see how I felt.
I felt all right. So I spruced up and went.
I hadn't really made costume plans, so I had a bit of a panic. I eventually went with my normal long black skirt, black top, black jacket ... but added the overskirt from my ren gear, and did my hair in a knot under the hair cage with the bundle of curled braids hanging down below it, and wore fishnet stockings (visible in that six inches of leg that occasionally showed despite the overskirt, which opens at the front) and fishnet gloves, with a ring on over the pinky finger, and my cameo collage and the lovely white-beads-and-freshwater-pearls choker I had redesigned and modified myself. My head still felt naked (naughty me!) but this fantastical feathers-and-sparklies clip soon put a rest to that.
There was a long line by the time I showed, and I was unsure whether anyone I knew was even there; the usual crowd had talked about the concept when we heard of it, but not since, and JD was disinterested. (It turned out that
obadiah and his wife were there; I saw them on the dance floor later as they were departing.) I got in, had a few near-collisions on the dance floor, and eventually washed up upstairs leaning against the rails with a fellow named Chris, and a Matt, and a young lady with a key necklace, glasses, and goggles, and some other guy. There was general hilarity. Matt recounted how he had, upon coming in and the opening band coming in, hollered "FREE BIRD" -- and the opening act played it! The place was decked out themed like a mad teaparty, with cards and chess pieces strung off the railings, and no few people dressed up like Alice in Wonderland characters as well as the usual steampunk costumes.
tiferet will be pleased to note that their taste in opening bands has improved, although the band was ... odd. At least they were singing music of interest to a steampunk audience (more drinking, less political/radical), and very enthusiastic. There was also another group with a puppet show, wherein one puppet had killed a prostitute (again), and his friend framed a third friend. Very weird.
At length, Abney Park came on. There was rocking out, jumping up and down, the audience was throwing horns at several points (the opening act had instructed the audience to do this for one song), and general hilarity.
Robert introduced the song where Nathan would be playing the mandolin, wisecracking, "I just heard someone shout 'Mandolin is fucking metal', which may be the only time those words are heard in the DNA Lounge." Roar of laughter and approval. Nathan plucked a few exploratory notes -- or so we saw. We didn't hear. Some mimework and shouting ensued, and it transpired that the mandolin's general setup was not working as advertised. "We're going to have to play some songs without the mandolin until we can get it working," was the verdict, and there was a rapid set-shuffle.
(Later, a guitar string blew, so there was set-shuffling for violin until the guitar was fixed.) There was, at one point, while Nathan tinkered and tried to get stuff going, an impromptu moment where Robert and the backup singer started in with "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang", completely unrehearsed; this ultimately broke down into giggles.
Someone has to hold the violin for "Airship Pirates". This time it was a little girl dressed as Alice who did it, and she was SO DAMN ADORABLE YOU GUYS. She'd been hanging out on the stairs at the side of the stage all night long, pure front row awesomeness, so excited, and then THIS. :D :D :D The whole audience was a-squee. The backup singer grabbed her hands and danced around with her during the violin solo.
At one point, Robert quizzed the audience: "How many of you shouted 'Free Bird'?" A good third of the dance floor raised their hands. "How many of you would like us to NEVER PLAY THAT and play something else?" This got about 90% handraising, and a lot of screaming.
At your average concert, you get fans screaming, screaming the band name, screaming the band members' names ... at this concert, there was a lot of screaming, but the chant that broke out time and time again? MANDOLIN! MANDOLIN! MANDOLIN!
The eventual solution was to lower the backup singer's mic, and have Nathan play into that while Robert and the backup singer shared Robert's mic. This was done. It was epic, and indeed, I daresay, "metal".
The concert was over too soon (and Robert was out of rum anyway), but the DJs remained, and soon a glorious mix of music (Rammstein, NIN, "Mad World", "White Rabbit", "Juke Joint Jezebel", and g-d knows what else) was floating out. I repaired myself downstairs as the crowd thinned out, as the music was sounding good and I didn't want the night to end just yet.
I have been recovering more stamina, and my cane is sometimes optional again. This proved handy on the dance floor, as I could actually dance, at first despite, and then, happily, *with*, the cane.
( I danced a lot. With men. )
Things were starting to shut down somewhat before 3. I was contemplating staying until they kicked us all out, but I was starting to get weary, and wanted some energy for the walk home. It had started raining in the interim, and me without an umbrella. Without any waterproof items on me, I feared for my feathers, and ultimately stuffed them in a pocket.
( Bus hijinks )
By the time I actually got home, it was 6. It's no longer 6.
I brought the old camera (smaller, easier to use, less of a power hog, no flash, takes rapid-fire sets of pictures, which can be handy in some circumstances) with me instead of the new one. Many of the pictures aren't much good, and I haven't unloaded most of them, but I did take the time to pull this here.
Crossposted.
comments.
I felt all right. So I spruced up and went.
I hadn't really made costume plans, so I had a bit of a panic. I eventually went with my normal long black skirt, black top, black jacket ... but added the overskirt from my ren gear, and did my hair in a knot under the hair cage with the bundle of curled braids hanging down below it, and wore fishnet stockings (visible in that six inches of leg that occasionally showed despite the overskirt, which opens at the front) and fishnet gloves, with a ring on over the pinky finger, and my cameo collage and the lovely white-beads-and-freshwater-pearls choker I had redesigned and modified myself. My head still felt naked (naughty me!) but this fantastical feathers-and-sparklies clip soon put a rest to that.
There was a long line by the time I showed, and I was unsure whether anyone I knew was even there; the usual crowd had talked about the concept when we heard of it, but not since, and JD was disinterested. (It turned out that
At length, Abney Park came on. There was rocking out, jumping up and down, the audience was throwing horns at several points (the opening act had instructed the audience to do this for one song), and general hilarity.
Robert introduced the song where Nathan would be playing the mandolin, wisecracking, "I just heard someone shout 'Mandolin is fucking metal', which may be the only time those words are heard in the DNA Lounge." Roar of laughter and approval. Nathan plucked a few exploratory notes -- or so we saw. We didn't hear. Some mimework and shouting ensued, and it transpired that the mandolin's general setup was not working as advertised. "We're going to have to play some songs without the mandolin until we can get it working," was the verdict, and there was a rapid set-shuffle.
(Later, a guitar string blew, so there was set-shuffling for violin until the guitar was fixed.) There was, at one point, while Nathan tinkered and tried to get stuff going, an impromptu moment where Robert and the backup singer started in with "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang", completely unrehearsed; this ultimately broke down into giggles.
Someone has to hold the violin for "Airship Pirates". This time it was a little girl dressed as Alice who did it, and she was SO DAMN ADORABLE YOU GUYS. She'd been hanging out on the stairs at the side of the stage all night long, pure front row awesomeness, so excited, and then THIS. :D :D :D The whole audience was a-squee. The backup singer grabbed her hands and danced around with her during the violin solo.
At one point, Robert quizzed the audience: "How many of you shouted 'Free Bird'?" A good third of the dance floor raised their hands. "How many of you would like us to NEVER PLAY THAT and play something else?" This got about 90% handraising, and a lot of screaming.
At your average concert, you get fans screaming, screaming the band name, screaming the band members' names ... at this concert, there was a lot of screaming, but the chant that broke out time and time again? MANDOLIN! MANDOLIN! MANDOLIN!
The eventual solution was to lower the backup singer's mic, and have Nathan play into that while Robert and the backup singer shared Robert's mic. This was done. It was epic, and indeed, I daresay, "metal".
The concert was over too soon (and Robert was out of rum anyway), but the DJs remained, and soon a glorious mix of music (Rammstein, NIN, "Mad World", "White Rabbit", "Juke Joint Jezebel", and g-d knows what else) was floating out. I repaired myself downstairs as the crowd thinned out, as the music was sounding good and I didn't want the night to end just yet.
I have been recovering more stamina, and my cane is sometimes optional again. This proved handy on the dance floor, as I could actually dance, at first despite, and then, happily, *with*, the cane.
( I danced a lot. With men. )
Things were starting to shut down somewhat before 3. I was contemplating staying until they kicked us all out, but I was starting to get weary, and wanted some energy for the walk home. It had started raining in the interim, and me without an umbrella. Without any waterproof items on me, I feared for my feathers, and ultimately stuffed them in a pocket.
( Bus hijinks )
By the time I actually got home, it was 6. It's no longer 6.
I brought the old camera (smaller, easier to use, less of a power hog, no flash, takes rapid-fire sets of pictures, which can be handy in some circumstances) with me instead of the new one. Many of the pictures aren't much good, and I haven't unloaded most of them, but I did take the time to pull this here.
| icon @nathanfhtagn with his mandolin. MANDOLIN IS FUCKING METAL. |
| whole group Due to failure of the mandolin pre-amp, Nathan has hijacked the backup singer's mic for a FUCKING METAL mandolin solo. MANDOLIN IS FUCKING METAL. |
Crossposted.
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Friday, 0120: shirozora | fic: A Deafening Distance [1/2] (wip, spoilery, it-all-goes-boom, SPN) http://shirozora.dreamwidth.org/82149.h
tml - Friday, 0139: damned_colonial | Fic: Impecunious (Sherlock Holmes H/W rentboy AU) - expansion of the earlier ficlet, NSFW http://damned-colonial.dreamwidth.org/7
3459.html - Friday, 0142: @popelizbet I approve of these hijinks.
- Friday, 0351: Hoping the ramen will successfully settle my stomach, and the ache was merely ZOMG HUNGER.
- Friday, 0424: JELLYFISH. :( This does explain the generalized unwellness, though. #youdonotwanttoknow ( read the other 18 )
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In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Thursday, 0304: Tony Stark Seeks Help, Finally - amonitrate - Iron Man (2008), Grosse Pointe Blank [Archive of Our Own] http://archiveofourown.org/works/17942
- Thursday, 0630: Learned a new term this morning: "Queer gatekeeping".
- Thursday, 0740: @maureenjohnson Female characters getting criticized for being "too awesome", boys getting a free pass
- Thursday, 0834: @thecatwasnot "You're not a REAL bisexual. You'll probably marry a man." Saying who is and isn't allowed to be queer.
- Thursday, 1049: Oh dear goodness. @OLX_English appears to be following me now. LET THE WACKY HIJINKS COMMENCE. (See: http://7thspace.com/headlines/332961/li
vejournalcom_and_global_classifieds_gian t_olx_have_combined_forces_to_release_a_ classifieds_channel_at_livejournalcom.ht ml ) ( read the other 15 )
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- Location:94044
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Wednesday, 0151: Mockingbird - waldorph - Star Trek (2009) [Archive of Our Own] http://archiveofourown.org/works/59159
- Wednesday, 0216: Why Antidepressants Are No Better Than Placebos - Newsweek.com (the title makes me stabby but.) http://www.newsweek.com/id/232781/p
age/1 - Wednesday, 0220: LiveJournal.com and Global Classifieds Site OLX, Launch a Co-Branded Service - this will be interesting. http://www.prweb.com/releases/olx/livej
ournal/prweb3531754.htm - Wednesday, 0315: @emptybackpack Stay away from the absinthe. Maybe you can upgrade to Sith Academy?
- Wednesday, 0316: Is this a jdn-in-hitchhiking-phase song, someone else's, a muse in my head's, or what? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBmka0pf
oGk (beautiful disaster) ( read the other 20 )
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- Tuesday, 0109: mad_maudlin | Merlin: The Boys of Winter (A/M, PG-13) http://mad-maudlin.dreamwidth.org/7
0698.html - Tuesday, 0112: Magstopia - Triptych (HP, Vorkosigan saga, A2A) http://magstopia.livejournal.com/23
944.html - Tuesday, 0136: Resonant: Pseudopolis (Discworld) (NSFW) http://trickster.org/res/pseudopolis.ht
ml - Tuesday, 0303: @maureenjohnson *vibrates in jar*
- Tuesday, 0646: Dear Catholic friends, very sorry your Pope hasn't made it to the Century of the Fruitbat. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/8493
280.stm ( read the other 15 )
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- Monday, 0226: #90stweet @pyrogenique STAR TREK LIVES!
- Monday, 0257: Cruising Altitude - astolat - American Idol RPF [Archive of Our Own] (NSFW) http://archiveofourown.org/works/58270
- Monday, 0525: Lady Paperclip's Second-Hand Bookshop - "five times...", Sherlock Holmes, Mary-centric [Holmes/Watson] http://paperclipbitch.livejournal.com/1
28853.html - Monday, 1447: @TanyaHuff Completely justified.
- Monday, 1451: @grantimahara I hope you had fun! #volunteer #medicalwashout #butistillgotthetshirt ( read the other 4 )
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- Sunday, 0040: ldymusyc: some pornless H/D http://snegurochka-lee.livejournal.c
om/273650.html?thread=5997042#t5997042 - Sunday, 0426: Thank goodness for whoever it was who is wearing the sanity hat this evening.
- Sunday, 2125: #90stweet So I come out to you as *bisexual*, and you tell me to not give up on boys even though the ones my age are jerks? Really, Mama!!!!
- Sunday, 2130: RT @sushimustwrite: "that looks like a lolcat bikini gone horribly wrong in a blender" -@magiuspendragon
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My profound thanks to whoever was wearing the sanity hat tonight, and it's a distinct improvement on the previous 10 years as well! ♥
(Context for those who missed it: the embattled "unspecified" gender choice on LJ got re-labeled via the translation system to "It's personal", and then someone who was wearing the sanity hat re-re-labeled it to "unspecified/other", but not before
news exploded.)
Crossposted.
comments.
(Context for those who missed it: the embattled "unspecified" gender choice on LJ got re-labeled via the translation system to "It's personal", and then someone who was wearing the sanity hat re-re-labeled it to "unspecified/other", but not before
Crossposted.
- Mood:unspecified/other
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Saturday, 0111: Compare and contrast these iPad thoughts: http://speirs.org/blog/2010/1/29/fu
ture-shock.html & http://wibbble.livejournal.com/2878 932.html - Saturday, 0214: trekfics - the_arc5: Fic: precarious stars http://community.livejournal.com/trekfi
cs/249422.html - Saturday, 1440: Thanks for the earworm! RT: @MythBusters: Listening to: "Weird Science" -Oingo Boingo
- Saturday, 1443: @semanticist Thought it was interesting to look at the two together, because it does seem like open on one dimension while closing other
- Saturday, 1647: screamlet: fic: the cleverness of me (nsfw, Star Trek 2009, Kirk/Spock) http://screamlet.livejournal.com/10
828.html ( read the other 5 )
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'70s: We are two heterosexual men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and need some way to express this. Shall we shag?
'80s: We are two men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and need some way to express this. Are we gay?
'90s: We are two gay or bisexual men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and are pretty sure how to express this in private. Shall we come out?
'00s: We are two gay or bisexual men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and are pretty sure how to express this. Are people going to accept our True Love, or will they bully us if we come out?
Unspoken but hopefully understood: the legal, social, mortal dangers of getting caught in the 70s and 80s, still the danger of coming out to the wrong person in the 90s (my own mother told me it wouldn't be a good idea if the wrong person heard I wasn't straight in the 90s), the certainty that there will be at least one jackass giving grief in the '00s despite protective laws. You can sometimes tell what decade someone grew up by how much of a big deal it is to even consider the feelings, consider one's basic orientation, consider coming out, consider letting a specific relationship be public knowledge.
This gets really surreal when I'm reading fic set in the mid-70s and the primary conflict is "but will people pick on us if we show our True Love" -- YES, it's the fucking *70s*, you could be BEATEN LEFT FOR DEAD RAPED AND MURDERED for being gay, and you're worried about HIGH SCHOOL HAZING?!
Crossposted.
comments.
'80s: We are two men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and need some way to express this. Are we gay?
'90s: We are two gay or bisexual men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and are pretty sure how to express this in private. Shall we come out?
'00s: We are two gay or bisexual men who love each other in deep and ineffable ways and are pretty sure how to express this. Are people going to accept our True Love, or will they bully us if we come out?
Unspoken but hopefully understood: the legal, social, mortal dangers of getting caught in the 70s and 80s, still the danger of coming out to the wrong person in the 90s (my own mother told me it wouldn't be a good idea if the wrong person heard I wasn't straight in the 90s), the certainty that there will be at least one jackass giving grief in the '00s despite protective laws. You can sometimes tell what decade someone grew up by how much of a big deal it is to even consider the feelings, consider one's basic orientation, consider coming out, consider letting a specific relationship be public knowledge.
This gets really surreal when I'm reading fic set in the mid-70s and the primary conflict is "but will people pick on us if we show our True Love" -- YES, it's the fucking *70s*, you could be BEATEN LEFT FOR DEAD RAPED AND MURDERED for being gay, and you're worried about HIGH SCHOOL HAZING?!
Crossposted.
I maintain a "punch-in-the-face list", which is a violent name very much at odds with my upbringing as a Friend. Perhaps "maintain" is not quite the right word, as that implies that I keep an actual physical list collated somewhere, and updated regularly, and that I would genuinely follow through if given the opportunity.
The list is actually mostly notional, as while I may consign people and organizations to its membership, I rarely bother to track who or what is on it. If I've a grudge, I'll know whether they're on the list whether I write it down or not. If I haven't formed a grudge, then obviously it wasn't bad enough to merit permanent membership.
I've also never actually instigated a physical fight, aside from the occasional scuffle with my sister before adolescence hit her (when it had hit me but not her, she'd antagonize me and then get upset that I was "threatening her"; in actuality, I was doing everything I could to hold my temper and warn her that if she kept it up, I would snap and she was likely to get hurt; she didn't appreciate that very much; after it hit her, she came to realize the temper we'd both got and stopped it), and the one time that this creep on the schoolbus was illicitly moving between seats and sat down on the seat that my sister and I shared, whereupon I shoved him on the floor and he punched me. (He's one of the former schoolmates who I won't even contemplate adding on Facebook. I think I have him blocked already.)
If given the opportunity, would I punch someone on this list in the face? I like to think that I would not. My temper likes to think that I would. However, if someone's earned membership on this list, I would only regret the violation of my principles and any consequences that befell me -- not any harm I caused to their person. Does this make me a bad person? Entirely possibly.
Crossposted.
comments.
The list is actually mostly notional, as while I may consign people and organizations to its membership, I rarely bother to track who or what is on it. If I've a grudge, I'll know whether they're on the list whether I write it down or not. If I haven't formed a grudge, then obviously it wasn't bad enough to merit permanent membership.
I've also never actually instigated a physical fight, aside from the occasional scuffle with my sister before adolescence hit her (when it had hit me but not her, she'd antagonize me and then get upset that I was "threatening her"; in actuality, I was doing everything I could to hold my temper and warn her that if she kept it up, I would snap and she was likely to get hurt; she didn't appreciate that very much; after it hit her, she came to realize the temper we'd both got and stopped it), and the one time that this creep on the schoolbus was illicitly moving between seats and sat down on the seat that my sister and I shared, whereupon I shoved him on the floor and he punched me. (He's one of the former schoolmates who I won't even contemplate adding on Facebook. I think I have him blocked already.)
If given the opportunity, would I punch someone on this list in the face? I like to think that I would not. My temper likes to think that I would. However, if someone's earned membership on this list, I would only regret the violation of my principles and any consequences that befell me -- not any harm I caused to their person. Does this make me a bad person? Entirely possibly.
Crossposted.
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- Thursday, 2356: Hello BART station. More crowded than I usually see it at this hour. Am I just early?
- Friday, 0106: @ursamajor Nah, another group. They're all kinds of fun.
- Friday, 0109: lgbtfest: Discworld: "Modern Love" by Penknife http://community.livejournal.com/lgbtfe
st/52579.html - Friday, 0216: @ladyofthelog I miss the stuff that was lost from my Hotmail account. I have printouts of some, somewhere in my parents' house.
- Friday, 0229: @ladyofthelog That really sucks. :( ( read the other 19 )
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I've been having trouble writing. (This is not new. This has not been new for a year. Between everything, and the slightest suggestion that I oughtn't to be writing to my passion, that I haven't the authority to be doing so, and my self-protective function declares that I shan't do that in public, then.)
In the absence of eloquence of the written word, my pen hasn't stayed still. At chicken camp, I started doodling. I started sketching the chickens, because it had been too long since I'd been in the presence of chickens to draw them, and I'd forgotten basic facts of chicken anatomy, like the eyebrows, and exactly where to draw the ear.
I started, and I found myself unable to stop. Soon enough our trainer had started putting some of them into the presentations. I was drawing again, and it was wonderful.
I went to court to watch history for myself, because you never do quite get it right in your own head when you've had it through a filter, not just exactly so, not unless you know the quality of the lens that the observer's bringing to bear and how to run the transform algorithm to skew it back to true. I brought along the sketchpad on a whim.
I showed you what happened. The creativity went WHAM again, and took me bowling along with it.
Today was the last day for the witnesses. It'll be a month before closing arguments. Tonight was the President of the US's State of the Union speech. I watched him on my little computer screen, streaming CSPAN, and my fingers twitched. There, that angle of head, that quirk of mouth, that moment, that one, that repeated pose. Capture them. Make them mine. I didn't fetch my pen and paper, but I wanted to, and given more time I might yet have.
I'd not been seriously drawing since high school, since the doodles at the call center.
If I can't write, I'll draw. Creativity must have its outlet.
Crossposted.
comments.
In the absence of eloquence of the written word, my pen hasn't stayed still. At chicken camp, I started doodling. I started sketching the chickens, because it had been too long since I'd been in the presence of chickens to draw them, and I'd forgotten basic facts of chicken anatomy, like the eyebrows, and exactly where to draw the ear.
I started, and I found myself unable to stop. Soon enough our trainer had started putting some of them into the presentations. I was drawing again, and it was wonderful.
I went to court to watch history for myself, because you never do quite get it right in your own head when you've had it through a filter, not just exactly so, not unless you know the quality of the lens that the observer's bringing to bear and how to run the transform algorithm to skew it back to true. I brought along the sketchpad on a whim.
I showed you what happened. The creativity went WHAM again, and took me bowling along with it.
Today was the last day for the witnesses. It'll be a month before closing arguments. Tonight was the President of the US's State of the Union speech. I watched him on my little computer screen, streaming CSPAN, and my fingers twitched. There, that angle of head, that quirk of mouth, that moment, that one, that repeated pose. Capture them. Make them mine. I didn't fetch my pen and paper, but I wanted to, and given more time I might yet have.
I'd not been seriously drawing since high school, since the doodles at the call center.
If I can't write, I'll draw. Creativity must have its outlet.
Crossposted.
In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
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- Tuesday, 0007: I think the others are just short of acceptable myself but yeah. RT: @dianaramadani: This is pretty much it: http://cartoonbox.slate.com/hottopic/?i
mage=7&topicid=57 - Tuesday, 0108: Photo: Afghan pattern in progress http://tumblr.com/xjv5utzez
- Tuesday, 0756: Sex with pens: http://www.frucomerci.com/2010/01/20/se
x-explained-graphically-by-pens/ - Tuesday, 0816: Something on my DW reading list with audio about women in open source, probably from geekfeminism, was autoplaying. :( Netbook lag time!
- Tuesday, 1207: @Celtic_Maenad It's depressing, is what it is. ( read the other 15 )
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