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Apr. 6th, 2020

coffee plz

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Apr. 5th, 2008

coffee plz


I was either too exhausted all winter, or there was nothing interesting to photograph.  I still have a whack of autumn photographs somewhere, but these are from today.  Stupid basic version of photoshop on my PC has no duotone maker.  BAD.  I might take some of these to the mac later.

clickthrough for fullsize versions.

Apr. 4th, 2008


(no subject)

Iron issue settled down again, but no Island for me this weekend.  Gotta stay in town.  Work. 

Pink cherry blossoms are slooowy poking their way out.  The really great ones are on 10th and 6th avenue.  Waaaiting on these.  I still need to photograph the white cherry fairyland that is Burrard Station.

MOAR rain.  I guess.  Bought new clothes, which is something I have been neglecting while 'in-process' healing-wise.  I have to finish 5 smallish painting commissions of Vancouver Island fauna for various people.  Cadmium red is officially the best color ever.  Yeah, I know watercolorists are supposed to be all about the earth tones.  Indian red is nice too.  But omg gimmie my neon orange-red. 

Anti-abortnoids at the corner of Commercial and Broadway.   Three of em.  Placards around their neck about how YOUR CHOICE KILLZ BABIES U BITCH.  (Ok, I made up the last part.)  Bleh.  They looked Indo-Canadian, which is surprising, since usually the crazy pro-lifers are obnoxious white people.  Huh.  I was on the 99 and did not get yelled at by them.  (White ones yell in my experience.  OMG U JEZEBEL.)  I might have said something snotty like 'yah, but if I chose to keep that pregnancy, aren't I technically killing the other prospective babies I could have otherwise had within those nine months?  Aren't I technically killing babiez when Auntie Flo comes to visit?  After all, reproductive cell = BABY with these people.  Hey, home come they aren't in guys' faces about jerking off?  OMG ALL THOSE MILLIONS OF DED BABIES.    Actually, I'm still tired so I probably wouldn't have bothered.

I now officially have bigger problems with low serotonin and endorphins than BLOOD SUGAR.  Whee.  I could eat sugar if I really wanted.  But I don't really wanna.  Stuff's too harsh.   Blood sugar's healed up kinda.  Now just gotta apply the same healing process to those OTHER TWO.  Very naughty they are. 

uh...  There's a dog living across the hall from me.  It's a little dog, a yip-yip dog, and it cries whenever it's owners leave (I think.)  It's crying right now.  Poor dog.  Dogs aren't allowed in this building.  Neither are cats.  Yet... cats everywhere.  Cats definitely live here.  I guess the new!landlady doesn't much give a fuck.

Oh well, poor dog.

Apr. 1st, 2008

coffee plz

(no subject)

 whooooa i don't feel so good.



meh.  *googling stuff about overdoses of iron*  Stupid iron.

(no subject)

Oh, so now the weather's nice.  I get sick (or something, whee.. Evil Doctor's still figuring out wtf happened) and OMG SUNNY CRISP SPRING WEATHER.  All weekend while I was feeling okay?  HAIL, MOFOS.  And SNOW.  In March.  Dude, did I just wake up in Calgary or something?  (Calgary: land of the snowstorms in May.)

Okay, stuff to not bitch about:
-evil says it's probably weirdass biochemical bounce from the iron.  ISN'T IT WEIRD how one itsy bitsy little mineral can do so much weird shit?  Though maybe I shouldn't be surprised since biochem was full of potassium pumps and ion transports and stuff like that.

-BIRDS OMG.  There's baby pigeons in the parking lot under my building.  BABY PIGEONS PEOPLE.  I'd take pictures, but I think it might freak out their mom.  Also- grackles all over the place.  Same cohort of spastic red-brown sparrows that freak the fuck out if you take pictures.  Chickadees.  They are TINY.  I think the homeless guys have been feeding the birds in the park again (this is illegal) and I'm happy because that shit brings all the birds to the yard.

-Circe mailed me MOAR markers.  Copics.  From Japan.  She's on a business trip there.  Apparently I don't have these colors?  No, I don't.  Weird.  MOAR markers. 

-writing MOAR stuff.  oh well.  Tired, but writing anyway.  Weird how I think I'm doing really crap work when I'm exhausted/sick and then later it looks kind of okay.

-being too sick/tired to care about Clinton supports v. Obama supporters mega-smackdown XXXVIII, currently going down in left blogistan.  Meh.  I think Obama's being smeared as not being good at bowling or something.  By some asshole on NBC.  meh. 

-back to Islandville with parents this weekend.  I'm going to avoid the Island people, of course.  But I'll hopefully get to take rainforest pictures.  OMG.   BC rainforest = wet everywhere, 2080435239 kinds of green moss on every surface, green year-round,  Jurassic-looking plants, bigass ferns everywhere.  Maybe tidal pool stuff too.  The tunicates are bright orange (seriously).  They're about the color of nerf gun barrels.  Purple seastars (everwhere), blood stars (less common, but I've found 'em), crabs (everywhere), weird iridescent red seaweed algae thingies (rhodophyta, bizniches.) 

Actually, while I was more interested in the shinies than actual science, I got a kick out of biology.  I kinda miss it.  Maybe I'll take some more courses.  I dunno, they could be my art degree electives.  Yeah, I'll take 300-level stuff about, I don't know, biochemistry of algae as an elective!  Clearly I am sick and delerious, but AHAHAHAH FUNNY.  Probably not funny to anyone who hasn't taken a science degree and sneered (stupidly) down their noses at those humanties classes.  But trust me:  FUNNY.

Mar. 31st, 2008



So once upon a time there was a comic book 'crime noir'-type writer named Brian Michael Bendis.  Some lazy inattentive reader saw him do a few issues of Daredevil and enjoyed them.  She thought he was actually pretty okay.  Then some years later she finds out that BENDIS is now on the same level as MILLER.  AAAAAAH.  Horror movie scream time.  Bendis! aaaaaaaaaa!

This is extra-weird to me now that I am finally getting off my ass and reading Alias.  I can see why everyone (that is, the fantypes who love to deify, that is) felt this guy was GREAT GREAT GREAT.  Alias is pretty entertaining.  It's clever.  Though in retrospect, I suppose a good deal of it's charm is novelty. 

Anyway, these days Bendis is writing shit like this:

Yeah, so Doctor Doom now apparently can't think of any insults better than UR FAT AND UR A HOR.  Kinda like an angry 14 year old boy trying to cover his quaking terror and desire for the TEH BOOBIES.

People who are more attentive comic readers inform me that DOOM SPEAKS THUSLY AND DOES NOT COUNTERNANCE THIS FOOLISHNESS FROM AN INSIGNIFICANT SPECK SO SILENCE!!! and stuff.   Others inform me that the real problem here is that Bendis writes every character in the voice of Bendis.  So all you 'hear' when reading it is five or six versions of Bendis trading wisecracks.  Everyone in a Bendis book talks like Bendis.  Character voice wha? 

Anyway.  If I ever do this?  PLZ SHOOT ME.  Or have an intervention. 

My ongoing list of crap that I might do that will require people to PLZ stop me and so on:

1)Fall in love with some character and make the entire damn story about them with previous plot logic and characterization as no obstacle.

2)Start writing as if there's any such thing as ABSOLUTE GOOD And ABSOLUTE EVIL.  guh.

3)General mary/gary stu.  Utter effortless godly perfection =/= much good for dramatic tension.


I guess Alias is mostly full of Bendis-voice too, but eh.  I guess it was still fun back then. 

(Also, I hear scattered references to this guy turning uber-neocon.  I'm scared to look at his website before I finish reading his stuff.)

Mar. 29th, 2008

coffee plz

I'm with the guy who says that her work rocks. IT ROCKS.

The iron is working it's rusty magic.  Naturally, the first thing I want to do with my returning energy is write a big fat RANT.  I actually should do one about evolutionary psychology as the new racist/sexism apologia.  But I don't have enough energy to brew up the venom that one calls for.  Instead, I will talk about STUFF.  I wanted to complain about the absolute mess in the progressive blogosphere with the Clinton and Obama supporters RIPPING ONE ANOTHER'S THROATS OUT.  Then I came across a video presentation of a particularly awesome artist.

Kara Walker.  Her artwork is, I think, amazing.  It's breathtaking, to be exact.  I look at it and it's like I've been kicked in the stomach.  I love art that gets a visceral reaction.  ("Art that rips your fucking guts out" - direct quote from Zadie Smith's excellent On Beauty.)  An overview of her work is here.  And there are some nice in situ examples here.

Needless to say, her work gets some real reactions.  There's a nice sampling right here.  There's commentary from people who think that her work celebrates the 'nightmarish projections of the  psychosis of white supremacy.'   I don't really agree.  I sort of get where (I think) she's coming from.  My sick/healing ass often surfs the feminist blogosphere.  And believe me- there is ALWAYS some faceless little internet puke spewing rabid hatred at a female blogger somewhere, screaming and ranting about how he wants to rape her and kill her for you know, writing her blog.  Or ultimately- just existing.  I look at Walker's silhouettes and they remind me of the 'nightmarish projections' in those little hate-rants from the trolls.  It's the same weird distorted stereotypes.  This weird projection of the hated woman (like the hated black person in the mind of the white supremacist in Walker's work), all twisted and almost demonic. 

I think I get what she's doing.  She's just putting all that bile and spew out there.  Exposing it to light.  I get the urge to do the same thing myself sometimes, put on a paper mask of the whiny little raging hate troll and mirror his spew right back at him.  OMG I RAPE U CUNT THAT IS UR ONLY PURPOSE IN THIS WORLD and so on.  It's sort of cathartic.  It's like... cramming their bile right back down their throat.  It's like people who hate that way try so hard to paint their hatred on that hated other person.  It's all about the black people- THEY are these twisted evil hateful demon-stereotypes.  But ultimately it's all about the troll.  It's all him.  And honestly, though I am a middle class suburban white girl, I think it's awesome Walker is doing this.  Her work is great. 

I've heard comedians say that anger fuels their work.  They're funny because they're angry, and I believe that.  There's raw furious hilarity in the brutal takedowns of spewing angry manchild troll du jour by better-educated, better-armed feminist bloggers.  It's a really neat, gruesome energy.  I'm probably twisted as fuck for liking it.  But I suppose if I wasn't twisted, I wouldn't do this art stuff in the first place.

I tend to check my politics at the door when I do my stuff.  It's not polemic and it's not raw fury.  Honestly, I think I just lack the guts to go ahead with that approach.  The world is still fucked right up about racism and sexism.  The new right-wing idea is that being racist isn't racist- oh no!  Calling out racism?  Pointing it out?  OMG U RACIST!  Sort of like the persistent idea that feminists created rape and domestic violence, that these things were just magicked into reality by feminists pointing them out.  Who the hell wants to engage with that kind of stupid?  Not meeee.

But I'm glad someone is.  Someone has to.  Hateful stupid needs to be kicked in the gut until it bleeds.

Mar. 27th, 2008

coffee plz

Less tired

.   I called Evil Doctor to whiiiine about my horrible attack of ultra-tiredness... and about six pigeons just landed on my windowsill and are staring at me right now... weird.  If I wanna get rid of them, all I have to do is GRAB MY CAMERA.  AHAHA FUCK YOU BIRDS AHAHA BYE NOW.  All the birds here haaate having their picture taken.

Anyway, as I was saying, I called the doctor to bitch and she got on the line and was all like 'ARE YOU TAKING YOUR IRON PILLS MISSY?'  And I whined some more about how you can't take the damn things with caffeine, dairy or wheat so omg when the hell am I to freaking take them?!!!!   And she was like 'I AM GOING TO TAKE A WILD GUESS AND SUGGEST THAT YOU ARE TIRED BECAUSE YOUR HEMOGLOBIN COUNT IS CRAP AGAIN.'   And then she told me to take FOUR fucking iron pills (1000mgs!)  And I was to see if I suddenly felt like I didn't have to spend my life in bed.


Yeah.  My hemoglobin count is just crap again.

Or was, I guess, before I fed it 1000mgs of iron and MOAR to come daily.


Mar. 24th, 2008

coffee plz


    Back from Gulf Islands for Easter with She Who Must Be Obeyed and The Alpha of The Universe, as well as my little brother who doesn't have a cutesy nickname yet.  I was tired the whole damn time!  FUCK.  I got interesting photos on saturday, but otherwise MEH I say.  I had to miss my dad's blues band performance and everything because I had to crash at about 7pm.  I was also bloated up like worse than Auntie Flo ever and it was fucking horrible because I only brought jeans that fit my normal waist, not waist plus four inches of bloat.  Holy christ.  I have no idea what caused that.  Weird dreams the whole time, dreamed my parents moved to Arthurian England and my mother and aunt got attacked by bigfoots (bigfeet?) in the forest because the bigfoots had figured out that my mom is an accountant.  They had some kind of collective vendetta against accountants.

My assessment of Saltspring Island (also Pender and to some degree Mayne):  very pretty natural setting-wise.  Real BC rainforest with bigass ferns and moss growing on every surface and banana slugs and fire-colored salamanders and ten zillion birds (ravens!).  Also bigass windstorms which kick the power's ass.  But yeah- that stuff?  Great!

The island communities?  SADFACE.  It's like the nightmare version of a small gossipy insular snotty provincial town.  GUH.  I went into one of the few commercial centers to buy drugs caffeine and people looked at me like I was an alien because I Do Not Live There(tm).  Also- people there are on Island Fucking Time(also tm) which means that if there are four people in front of you at the market then two of them will sit and chat with the cashier for five minutes minimum, the third will be a relative (ten minute chat) and the fourth will want to discuss local crap anyway and you will be in line for a fucking half hour.  (Yes, this happened to me, yes I was pissed, yes people turned around and were like hey, what's yer hurry little lady?  and GUH and GAH and GAAAH.)

I do not want to move to Saltspring Island or Victoria, mom.  (sorry, mom.)

People leave their cars unlocked there! (DDDD:)  If you left your car unlocked in Vancouver, you could turn your back on it for five seconds and your windows would be smashed in (stereo ripped out, change tray emptied, glove compartment ransacked for documents to help steal your identity and empty your accounts, ETC.) 

That said, I Want To Fucking Live In Vancouver Anyway, Ma.(sorry, mom.)

Mar. 4th, 2008

coffee plz

Bad fan redux!

When away from LJ for a long time, I never know what to say.  I think stuff.  Weird stuff.  Too much stuff in my brain to type out.  I'd never get anything done!

Speaking of never getting anything done....

Was listening to an interview with this Dean Koontz fellow.  I've never read any of his books, though Aria's been telling me I should read one in particular.  Anyway!  Dean tells us that he never goes online, he never looks at his fan forum (where they apparently discuss his hair in great detail) because, as he puts it: "I know I have an obsessive personality so if I started, if I let that into my head, I'd never write again."

HMMM.  Does this describe my relationship with the political blogs?  THREE BIG GUESSES. 

Curse this damn internet.  Actually, never mind.  The internet is great.  The internet delivers lots and lots of images and words and ideas and music and streaming radio to me- every day!  Do I care whether Obama or Clinton wins tonight?  ....

Actually, I haven't decided if I care or not.  I hear that Clinton is Bush-lite.  I hear that Obama threw the LGBT people under the bus.  I hear that they threw sexist and racist shit at one another.  I hear that the media is beating Clinton up for the sin of being ambitious while having a vagina.  I hear that they're identical on policy issues.  I hear that Clinton ran a really dumb GOP style FEAR! FEAR! TERRORISTS! YOUR KIDS! ad and it was ultrastupid.  I hear that they're both just puppets and a bunch of guys in a back room run everything anyway.  I can't vote anyway since I am Canadian.  I GUESS I DON'T CARE.

Uh, since this is turning into rant time with Indicia, I should note that over the past few days, I have seen chickadees!  Up close! Sort of- they bugger off really quick if you don't move veeeerrrry sloowly.  They are very very small.  About the size of your thumb.  They puff themselves up to look more important.  Anyway- had to get the bird stuff out of the way.  Because now I am going to address fandom!

I am a very lazy fan.  An uncommitted fan.  Something like that.  I watch all the fan shit.  I like it!  I will continue to watch all the fan shit.  But I never wrote fanfic before- ever.  There's something deeply odd about never doing the fanfic UNTIL you were a working creative professional... creature.   All in all, the experience with fanfic has been okay.  I don't seem to love it enough to keep doing it.  I did it in the first place as a painkiller- distract me until the codeine starts working!  PLZ.   Now I no longer need distraction.  My painkiller was chosen for it's ability to not require me to turn on my brain.  It's boring me senseless now, but I SHALL FINISH THE GODDAMN FIC.  Out of respect to the 200 people on the alert list.  That would fill up a small lecture hall, after all.  And having done that, I AM NEVER DOING THE FANFIC THING AGAIN.  Not for any wanky reason like 'omg people said bad stuff about it and hurt my feelings.'  Nah.  I got hate mail and actual death threats (seriously) from various... highly strung members of uh, 'rival pairing fandoms', I guess.  That was okay.  I was fucking high on codeine anyway so I just laughed my ass off.  I enjoyed writing the fic just fine.  I just don't love fanfic enough to keep doing it, I guess.  It's sure not that I lack the obsessive personality, trust me.

Uh... I just found out that the two prepress assignments I had no time to work on while sick with flu are NOT due tomorrow.  They are due, instead, NEXT Wednesday. 


I need to read more books.  Less political fapping.  MOAR BOOKS. 

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