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Wednesday, summed up

Writers group tonight was fun, as usual. The red carved pieces go in the center of the home, and at the southeast corner. Which is not actually under my pillow; it is in, on, under, or over the makeshift plastic shelves on my nightstand.

I read this piece tonight. I modified it as shown in the comments. It went over powerfully. I'm not really used to that. I'm more used to LJ, where things like than can pass without commentary. I guess I've been honing my writing here more than I've realized. I also realized that I get lazy on LJ, and don't provide the context that is needed for things like that on the first round. But if I'm writing for group, or editing to fit group, I have to polish it up and give context so someone coming on their first night wouldn't be lost.

I am going to continue re-doing the whole cast of characters. If there's anyone I happen to miss, or anyone who you'd like to know more about, let me know. I'm not going to be focusing so much on LJ people this time around, unless those LJ people are people I happen to mention on a regular basis. LJ people tend to have their own bio, and I'd be more focusing on the angle of my connection to them.

I went and logged a half-hour on the funkystairstepper Tuesday night before bed. (Well, Wednesday morning.) I did the same tonight. I'd been slacking, so this is an encouraging development. Also, the fact that the room is again left open at all hours is very much helping my motivation. I got most of the way through a very thin trashy romance novel while taking my little walk, and finished it up while soaking my feet in the bathtub. If I can just keep in this habit, I will increase my general endurance, which can only do good things for my health.

I have a high school experience to write up, perhaps for writers group, perhaps just for me, perhaps for here, or perhaps for somewhere else. This one is going to hurt coming out, because it hurt going in, and it's not the sort of thing that a writer gets over easily. That means that it needs to be written up and shared. I was reading someone's fic, and one of the quotes in the sidebar is the one about the ease of writing -- go over to the typewriter and open a vein. And that one hit home. This LJ is too tame to be the sort of edgy writing that my peers were delighted with when I was in high school. It was disturbingly honest.

Nasty financial aspects to the Patriot Act.

Commentary on Mark Foley, asshat chickenhawk former congresscreature. Notable points: "ephebephile" is the proper term for full adults who are attracted to adolescents. Not "pedophile". It's still creepy, but it's a different situation than going after a child. Contains excellent points about teenage sexuality and laws that see little difference between a child of elementary school age who does not know or care about sexuality, and a "child" of sixteen who is potentially quite happily boinking other teenagers of the same age. My dear readers, when I was fifteen I was intimately familiar with the state "so horny it hurts", and had been quite happily coming to terms with my own sexuality for at least five years. Would it have been good for me to take up with someone vastly older than I was? Probably very much not, and I can't say how I would have reacted if anyone had tried that with me. But don't ever mistake pedophilia and ephebephilia for each other. And yet another reason to keep a strict eye on the news: Bill O'Reilly called Foley a Democrat. Not just once, but repeatedly. O RLY. Smooth move there.

Vodka-smuggling pipeline shut down. Literally -- a buried pipeline piping home-made vodka over the border into Latvia. Ingenious. And so illegal.
Evidently revmischa's presentation was meant as a joke. Perhaps he was who Brad meant by evil co-workers? ;)
Extreme airbags. Except boobies.
Why I should not read while sipping water. Indeed, this demonstrates why I should not read it aloud to my roommate. I did not quite fall over laughing, but it was a near thing. It was prevented mostly by the fact that my bed is behind my computer chair. (Can't touch this?)
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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