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sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey: passion)
[personal profile] sovay
I had such a nice Readercon!

I went into my last round of programming on just as little sleep as my first because of the fox that screamed in the yard for what felt like all night, but the epically freewheeling breadth of "The Odyssey in 2026" can be gauged by the fact that one of my co-panelists talked about the anarchic receptions of Katerina Gogou and another the diametric adaptational differences between Armand Assante and Ralph Fiennes and a third the modern moralities of Epic: The Musical (2024) while I had the chance for the first time in several decades to mention my master's thesis on the archaic lyric transformation of Homeric motifs. The audience was full of brilliant questions about the oral tradition and we barely even got into the polyphony of translations. We could have gone another thousand hexameters easy. "Reckoning at 10" came out about half reading and half craft beer-and-cider tasting courtesy of Michael J. DeLuca and his harvesting of post-industrial orchards and spruce tips. I enjoyed the technical discussion and the notes from the audience. The room sang happy birthday to the magazine.

Beyond this point I was already beginning to slump into a pumpkin, but I managed to collapse on a portion of outdoor sofa adjacent to Kate Nepveu and Marissa Lingen and Gwynne Garfinkle and Greer Gilman with interludes of Catherine Rockwood and Michael McAfee and [personal profile] ckd and Romie Stott. Dean offered me peaches. [personal profile] choco_frosh had to run off to dismantle the con. I caught Mike and Anita as they were loading out and now I have copies of the phantasmagorically endpapered Trail of Shadows (2025) and the brand-new edition of Strange Wisdoms of the Dead (2006/18). The sole reading I made it to was Michael Cisco's. Briefly there was a Cameron Roberson. I hugged a lot of people.

Then I was a pumpkin that had to run a lot of errands, but so long as the monkey's paw does not curl slowly shut, I have not had a nicer weekend this year and I have not had such a professional one in seven. I will feel fragile about my immune system until some days have passed. I will need to sleep a lot. I didn't remember to bring my four-year-old collection which would have been convention-new. I was asked for my website and my social media and the spelling of my name. I have not felt for a long time that I could rely on either my intellect or my stamina and I am still not sure if I can start again, but I made it through all three days of my panels and loved them. It was like being alive to talk with people. At the moment I am looking forward to NecronomiCon.

paper in the wind

Jul. 12th, 2026 08:53 pm
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
[personal profile] jazzfish
I left Blacksburg before I learned to hate it, though it was a close thing. DC ... I was never in any real danger of hating DC. DC was first the golden land of childhood from which I was rudely snatched, then a safe haven for high-school me to start learning who I was, and finally my material just desserts for dragging myself across the finish line of university and into The Real World. I never spent enough time in DC to get a real sense of who it is. I hated the heat, and I hated the traffic, and that was enough to convince me to leave.

I fell in love with Vancouver the first time I visited in 2009. I was lonely as hell when I moved here but I figured that was just me having trouble finding people. I still loved the city.

When I started spending time with Erin in 2016/17, I didn't understand the anger and vitriol she had for this place. From listening to her, I started to understand it. I began to see how the city doesn't care about its residents, how every year it squeezes you tighter, how much of what I loved was surface.

It's not only the money, of course. Turns out I am a houseplant and I don't do well when there's no sunlight for eight months of the year. Too, I blew up my social circle in the last half of the last decade, and haven't really been able to put it back together. It's not entirely fair to lay the blame for that on Vancouver... but it's not wholly unfair either.

This past six months or so has been a pleasant reminder of the city I fell in love with. Downtown on a sunny day, The Drop (one of my favourite pieces of public art) and Douglas Coupland's lego orca. The Cinematheque. Farmers markets. Mountains and water, and whatever it is about the sunlight out here that just feels brighter and more vibrant than anywhere else. Touristing with Steph, Granville island market and Queen Elizabeth park, revisiting places I've forgotten how much I liked.

I'll miss the Wednesday night sessions at Hynes. I'll miss a handful of people, probably more of them than I think I will. I still don't belong here, though.
It's time to move on
It's time to get going
What lies ahead
I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, babe
The grass is growing
Yeah, it's time to move on
It's time to get going

RIP Bonnie Tyler

Jul. 12th, 2026 04:45 pm
zirconium: picrew of me in sports bra and flowery crop pants (Default)
[personal profile] zirconium
Rehearsal:


As a part-French duet ("Si Demain"):


At Miscast 2026:

Amishi P. Jha's Peak Mind

Jul. 12th, 2026 05:50 pm
swan_tower: (Default)
[personal profile] swan_tower
This is a piece of July reading, but I'm pulling it out from the usual booklog (which will come in August) both because I have more than usual to say about it, and because in this case, there's good reason to mention it before next month.

What this book is: a very cogent discussion by a neuroscientist specializing in the study of attention -- and, as knock-on effects from that, memory, emotional regulation, connection with other people, and so forth. She talks about how we focus (and what disrupts that), how we stay aware of our environment (physical, emotional, etc.), how this relates to working/short-term memory and what goes into long-term memory, why we get disrupted by negative memories or worries about the future, how to keep from being hijacked by emotional responses, how to really be present for our interactions with people around us . . . and how basically all of these things can be improved through mindfulness practice.

Which is kind of a buzzword these days, but not without reason. Jha is very explicit that mindfulness is not about "thinking happy thoughts" (that's actually counter-productive a lot of the time, as it burns the mental resources you need for actual coping), nor is it something whose purpose is to make you feel better. In fact, the early road there often sucks! Instead, she treats it as mental training, the way you might undertake physical training for your body. The aim is to have better control of your focus -- not so you can be focused all the time, but so you can switch as needed between that and broader contextual awareness -- and a meta-awareness of what your own mind is doing, which gives you the chance to intervene when what it's doing is uhhhh not so great.

(As a sidebar, this book is also the first time I've encountered the word "hypertasking." It refers to tetrising your time so that you're always focused on something and never give yourself downtime between tasks, and, uh. Hi. Yeah. That's me. Turns out that whole "I don't know how to turn off" thing is also part of this same cluster of concepts, and while it has its benefits, in the long run it's not really good for your brain.)

A few caveats: first, a good chunk of the research Jha has done, and therefore presumably a chunk of her funding, involves the U.S. military. I found that I was not as bothered by that as I expected, because frankly, her work is ultimately about helping them not do the kind of thing I want them to not do. For example, she talks about how we need to be aware of our own mental narratives so that we can see how they're influencing our attention and know when to let go of them: for example, if you have the mental narrative of "anybody around me could be a terrorist," then you are automatically going to notice things that fit your narrative and literally not see the ones that signal "actually, this is a harmless civilian." (If you've ever heard of the basketball/gorilla experiment, it's very much in line with that.) I'm honestly in favor of anybody working against the "assume anybody could be an enemy and react accordingly" mindset.

Second, though she touches briefly on ADHD, she is not specifically a researcher in that field. So, for example, she comments that using mindfulness training to build awareness of mind-wandering abates the "costs" of mind-wandering in people with ADHD, but she doesn't address the challenges in undertaking that training in the first place. That's the kind of thing that would probably benefit from reading a different book, one written by someone specialized in the relevant sub-field -- or, of course, direct therapeutic guidance. (She is very very clear that while mindfulness plays a key role in certain treatments for a variety of conditions, including both ADHD and PTSD, reading her book is 1000% not a substitute for actual therapy, and please do not use it as such.)

Those caveats laid aside, I found this lucid, well-argued, and convincing. I've gone through spates of doing mindfulness meditation before, and they were fine, but I never found them life-changing. Turns out that might be because I was almost always doing only five or ten minutes, and so far, the research suggests that -- for whatever reason -- twelve minutes is the minimum effective "dose." (More is better, but since telling people to meditate for thirty minutes tends to result in them doing it for zero, she is very pragmatically aiming at the minimum line.) Twelve minutes a day, at least five days a week, for at least four weeks, to produce measurable changes in people's performance in various cognitive tests . . . though of course it's not like you do that and then stop, any more than you get swole at the gym and then quit on the assumption those muscles will stay with you forever. But theoretically, after four weeks of following this regimen, you've done enough mental lifting to notice a change.

And that's why I'm posting this now. As of it going live, I have successfully meditated for eight days straight, twelve minutes each time. By saying that publicly, I'm giving myself a bit more accountability -- because my hope is that I'll be able to keep this up, and in August I'll come back to report on how it's going. Will I feel less scattershot? Better able to remember things? More skilled, not only at focusing on what's in front of me, but knowing how to stop focusing and just &#$! chill for a bit?

Only one way to find out!

(originally posted at Swan Tower: https://www.swantower.com/2026/07/12/amishi-p-jhas-peak-mind/)

Culinary

Jul. 12th, 2026 06:32 pm
oursin: Frontispiece from C17th household manual (Accomplisht Lady)
[personal profile] oursin

Last week's bread mostly held out.

Friday night supper: ersatz Thai fried rice with pepperoni.

Saturday breakfast rolls: eclectic vanilla, possibly a little on the stodgy side, but possibly the latest type of vanilla extract makes them more vanilla-y?

Today's lunch: chestnut mushrooms in olive oil, steamed asparagus in melted butter, Dulce Joya Vine Tomatoes (red and yellow) roasted in olive oil with basil, and cornbread (a little heavy: I think the baking powder, nearly at its use-by date, was possibly affected by weather/atmospheric conditions).

Recent theater

Jul. 12th, 2026 12:32 pm
troisoiseaux: (Default)
[personal profile] troisoiseaux
Saw a phenomenal production of Pippin at the Signature Theatre: I did already love this musical— about a young prince attempting to find meaning in war, hedonism, revolution, power, etc., only to continuously find himself disillusioned and unfulfilled, until he realizes an ordinary life isn't so bad after all— but this was just an objectively outstanding cast and staging. Staged in the round, immersive and intimate in a way that worked so well with the show's meta-theatrical aspects— the ending, when Pippin chooses an ordinary life over the "grand finale" of a spectacular suicide and the Leading Player flips out (lights up! costumes off! stop the music!) and all the typical theater trappings are stripped away, felt especially striking in such a small space. The Leading Player (Cedric Neal) was enthralling to watch, seductive and menacing by turns, and his vocal riffs in "Glory" earned multiple bursts of mid-song applause (X), but literally everyone in the cast was great, 10/10; I kept finding my eyes drawn to different members of the ensemble throughout the show, because they all brought a lot of personality to it. Something about the staging actually reminded me a bit of the Broadway revival of Cabaret— mostly the shabby-chic Pierrot aesthetic of the ensemble Players' costumes, I think, but to some extent the choreography, and maybe also just both being staged in the round? Also, this had fabulous lighting design, especially the ceiling of fairy lights and illuminated constellations on the stage itself, and the apt, warmly sunrise-colored lighting pouring from the four on-/off-stage entryways during "Morning Glow."

Saw What Became of Us, also at the Signature, a two-actor play about two siblings— the elder born in the Old Country and the younger born in This Country— narrating each other's/their intertwined life stories. The elevating concept here is that the production has two alternating casts, with actors of different ethnic backgrounds— I saw its cast of Asian actors, and the alternate cast was Latino; it looks like the original NYC production had an Asian cast and a Middle Eastern cast— which emphasizes the universality of the experiences that the characters describe, even as certain lines (e.g., vague references to political unrest as the reason their family left the Old Country) take on different significance/interpretations when viewed through the lens of different diaspora. Technically also staged in the round, although it was more of a rectangle and with just an open space instead of a stage, cozily set-dressed with what could have been anyone's grandmother's living-room furniture; the actors occasionally passed out "family photos" or otherwise interacted briefly with the audience.

Saw Feeling Afraid As If Something Terrible Is Going to Happen at Studio Theatre, a darkly funny one-man show about an anxious British stand-up comedian fighting the impulse to self-sabotage his relationship with his cataplectic – but otherwise perfect – American boyfriend. (Cataplexy is a version of narcolepsy triggered by laughter, so you can see the problem here, especially since the Comedian is convinced the condition is fatal. I suspect that one reason the show is one 75-minute act is so you don't have a chance to google cataplexy during intermission and spoil the show's punchline.) I'm curious whether actor Steven Webb's performance took any inspiration from Australian comedian Rhys Nicholson, because I could see it, especially in his way of punctuating the Comedian's cringier moments with a sort of full-body scrunch; apparently this was originally performed at Edinburgh Fringe with Samuel Barnett as the Comedian, and I could definitely see him in the role/shades of Barnett in Webb's performance, as well.

Husbands in Action

Jul. 12th, 2026 05:31 pm
profiterole_reads: (Nobuta wo Produce - Shuji to Akira)
[personal profile] profiterole_reads
Netflix's k-movie Husbands in Action was fun and a little slashable. When Si-nae gets kidnapped, her former husband and her current husband team up to get her back.

At first, they spoke too fast and I couldn't understand them, but after a while, either they slowed down or I got used to it, because I started understanding better.
sovay: (Cho Hakkai: intelligence)
[personal profile] sovay
For my second day of Readercon I had a blast.

Both panels were bangers. I was not joking when I said early in "The Bog Body Motif in Trans SFF" that we should edit an anthology on the topic: we had audience members with bog body stories, not to mention at least one non-me panelist. The conversation started with readings from Izzy Wasserstein and Seamus Heaney and ranged through questions of transformation, ecosystems, illegibility, persistence, continuity, fragility, and protection. I may have given instructions on how to sink someone in the Great Meadows. "SFF and Queer Cultural Memory" was anchored by an intergenerational span of forty years across five panelists and a vivid embodiment of pre-Stonewall and gay liberation memories in the person of David Gerrold, who taught me something I hadn't known about how custody and adoption laws shifted for queer people in America. (It was lesbians.) I feel I ran true to form by leaping straight from a formative encounter with Theodore Sturgeon's Venus Plus X (1960) to a recommendation for Irene Clyde's Beatrice the Sixteenth (1909). The audiences always ask moderator-grade questions.

I saw April Grant and Anke Kriske in flyby. I still spent most of my time in the dealer's room talking to Mike and Anita, but I walked out with Owen Hill's The Incredible Double (2009) and was handed copies of Antisocieties (2021), Ethics (2022), and Black Brane (2025) by Michael Cisco, each with their crimson seal-stamp of a hand of glory. I bailed on the Shirley Jackson Awards, but Ellen Datlow complimented the sea-blue waistcoat I was wearing for the first time, newly gifted by Merav.

And I can't remember the last time I ate at two restaurants in a week, but I had dinner with Michael and [personal profile] choco_frosh at the superlative Treasury, which we found via its advertisement of outdoor seating. It is slotted a little counterintuitively into a bland box of stores where I have purchased jeans from the L.L. Bean and seated us without a reservation and furnished us with tall thick petal-pink rose lassi and a smoke-deep dal makhani and a velvety stunner of an awadhi korma which won out over the mutton ghee roast because of the bone-in goat. The jeera rice was delicately savory enough to eat by itself. The butter naan flavored all our fingers. I could not think about tasting the masala chai negroni because of the chai, but it smelled like an intricate mechanism of spice and mahogany and reduced my dining companions to silence and poetry. When the server discovered that I couldn't eat the rasmalai tiramisu because of the coffee—it was on the house—she brought me a plate of rasmalai by itself, soaked in a minor kingdom's ransom of saffron and pistachio. It was nuts. I have leftovers for a week. It had been years.

Naturally my last panels are the earliest. This time, Homeric epic.

knitting some colors

Jul. 11th, 2026 09:47 pm
thistleingrey: (Default)
[personal profile] thistleingrey
Spring embroidery, red scarflet, modular scarf: fine.

I've been pondering a recently released slipover pattern that incorporates a flag and invites the knitter to swap its flag for another. The pattern is intended to be beginner-friendly, whereas I'd like a split hem, shorter armholes, a flag with different proportions and placement, and icord edges. Just a few tiny edits.

Since I haven't knitted much intarsia, this week I've done a bit of searching and experimenting. This is the flag I'm contemplating knitting. Read more... )
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
The real problem is not that it's hot in the summer, it's that it's not cooling down at night. Hot in the summer is what we expect. Not cooling down at night is what kills people.

*************************


Read more... )
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
OP: Hey, this quote from Harry Potter says "Harry is just as sane as you or I", is that a correct way of phrasing this?

Person one: Just take away the second person! Then you'll know what's correct!

Me: That's not relevant or useful here. Both "as X as I" and "as X as me" are correct.

Read more... )

and then, in the thread right above that one, we have:

Person two: Just take away the second person! Then you'll know what's correct! It's just that simple!

Me: That's not relevant or useful here. Both "as X as I" and "as X as me" are correct.

Read more... )

It is astonishing how the study of the English language can get some people so riled up and yet, so unbelievably unwilling to learn anything. And what's really astonishing is that, in both cases, they absolutely started it. You'd think I might start it one of these times, but apparently not.

Saturday reading

Jul. 11th, 2026 02:29 pm
redbird: full bookshelves and table in a library (books)
[personal profile] redbird

Recent reading, with summer reading bingo* notes:

Darkside Dare, by Lois McMaster Bujold: the most recent Penric and Desdemona novella. These are still fun, and this story looks back to the previous ones enough that I don't think it would work as a starting point. There's some conflict in the plot, but no bad guys (except offstage before the story starts), and where I was thinking "if you only talked to each other" it makes sense that the characters didn't. This works for the "multiple POV" and "under 250 pages" boxes.

Harmonic Pleasure, by Celia Lake: another of her fantasy romance stories. This one is set in London in 1928, with characters who are dealing with losses and injuries from the Great War, or worrying about the next war. More reading bingo card, "love story."

Green for Danger, by Christianna Brand: a British mystery novel from the early 1940s, set during the Blitz. This is part of a series of reissued Golden Age mysteries (British Library Crime Classics). I enjoyed this, in a mild sort of way, and may look for more. The mystery worked for me, though I could have done with a bit less of "the detective knows who committed the murders, but can't make an arrest until he knows how and why" (which is stated explicitly in those terms). Doesn't match any of the boxes on either card.

Shut Up and Read, by Jeannine A. Cook: This is a memoir, centered on starting and running a bookstore that focuses on books by women and Black authors, and somehow making that work starting in the winter of 2020, Cook seems to have a real talent for meeting and befriending people who can help with what she's trying to do, or give her ideas of what to do next. I think I found this on the BPL's website, in a list of new releases, and I'm not sure if I liked it, though I did finish it. Bingo card: new releases, author of color.

*I'm looking at both the Boston Public Library adult summer reading bingo cards.

July 11

Jul. 11th, 2026 09:17 am
sartorias: (Default)
[personal profile] sartorias
If my dad had lived, he would have turned 98 today.

One of the aspects of old age is how many anniversaries there are like this: departed people's birthdays or special days, days we did this or that. I try to make time to look at pictures of those no longer with us, recollecting voices no longer heard. They left little behind but memories.

Part of that memory retrieval was last weekend, the Fourth. While the constant barrage of noise was going on outside it was at least tranquil inside. But dull as I ate leftovers from the previous day. I found myself with a lot of conflicted emotions--missing the delicious July 4 barbecues but not missing all the labor beforehand and after. I miss the taste of my mom's and grandmother's potato salad, for ex. Now that recipe is gone along with them (I did try to learn it, but they tended to cook without measuring and couldn't articulate what they had been doing for decades); the only living person I know who makes potato salad that delicious is Rachel Brown. Who now lives quite a distance away.

We just don't have those huge family barbecues or holiday dinners anymore. At least, we don't, here--my sister and her gang all still do. They all live close by one another and are in and out of each others' doors all week.

I could be a part of those holiday get-togethers, but it's a horrible 100 mile drive one-way, and of course everyone in Southern California is on the road, too. The last time I did a holiday drive it took six hours to get home. Six hours. It's rarely less than three. I tend to go up before or after holidays, leaving at four a.m. to beat the worst of the traffic.

But down here, the holiday dinners are no longer a thing. Family dynamics aside, I wonder if in part it's because so many women work now. When I was young, holding household was the work the women did. So planning and executing and cleaning up after big bashes was part of the routine. During my younger days, the elder generation was still doing it, but expecting us to drive to various places, or (in the case of the close-by inlaws) expecting us to do all the labor on top of work. That was not fun, doing all that cooking, hauling it to mother-in-law's, warming it in her dinky kitchen with the cheapest, mostly-broken ancient electric stove, and afterward, cleaning her kitchen, then driving back here to clean our kitchen, then back to work the next day. It was a relief to not have to do that, though I miss the food.

I think I passed "coping" on to the generation below me, definitely not the skills of excellent cookery. At least, none of them want to cook, it's either go out, or make do with what's on hand. After all, they have full-time work, too; in the case of my daughter, until recently, it's full time work plus night classes to get her master's , plus childcare for her bf's child four days a week. That involves a LOT of driving, toting the kid to and from the ex, the ex's fam, the bf's fam, as well as school and activities. Daughter is as terrible a cook as I am, always looking for fast, and one-pot, and stuff you can make and then reheat over days.

So I'm missing the bit in between, the companionship and laughter over a delicious meal, but not the stresses; a sort of minor-key fugue. And looking at pictures.
oursin: photograph of E M Delafield IM IN UR PROVINCEZ SEKKRITLY SNARKIN (Delafield)
[personal profile] oursin

Flitted past me yesterday something about 'village mysteries what is the attraction' and as it appeared to be a podcast DO.NOT.WANT I scrolled right on past, but did think about the question.

Which also resonated with something I saw on somebody's post about a village-set mystery which was that as a mystery it was somewhat subpar and pretty contrived and one got the impression that actually, the author would have been a lot happier writing about the squabbles of village life without actual mayhem.

And what people say about reading certain mysteries/thrillers/series not such much for the detection/puzzle aspect but for the people/communities/whatever that they are happening among.

Maybe there is no market anymore - or perceived to be no market? - for novels of small community shenanigans and hostile feelings over who does the church flowers and problems with incomers and so on and so forth (?decline of the middlebrow, o, come back, Provincial Lady).

So if some new writer rocks up to an agent or editor and Shows Promise, the agent/editor will make encouraging noises but say, could you not have the village schoolmistress Fight Crime?

I also wondered if this afflicts other genres and people who write sff are being besought to Make It Romantasy. (In bygone days when I was writing sf I got as far as Talking To An Editor and they had Requirements, though at least it was not that.)

*As I commented during my Jane Austen binge-read, she is surely the ancestress of the country-house/village murder-mystery. (Why did no-one bop Emma on the bonce? or put poison in Mrs Norris's tea or push her down the stairs?)

pegkerr: (Default)
[personal profile] pegkerr
I have a lifetime membership to Convergence because I was invited to be a guest of the convention in, I believe, 2000. Yet I have not attended every year because it always fell on the weekend of my anniversary, and that sometimes conflicted with our anniversary plans.

This year the convention fell on my 40th anniversary. I decided to go, partly because I knew both of my girls would be there, and I hoped that having them with me for company would help.

Fiona and Alona brought M, too, and I got the pleasure of holding my granddaughter's fingers as she tottered around the dealer's room, chortling with joy.

BERJAYA
.

I didn't stay at the hotel, as the rooms were rather expensive. This added some degree of difficulty, because there was no way to retreat when I became tired and needed to get away from people for a while. Still, I did enjoy myself. I got a few things in the dealer's room, and I attended some enjoyable panels. I got added at the last minute to a panel on Sunday, and that went very well.

I got a bit sad on Sunday, the date of the actual anniversary, which I had expected. I survived.

Image description: Background: convention flyers posted on a wall. Lower right: Fiona wearing a costume of a lady knight, with red tabard, shield with a lion, mail shirt, gorget, with a stuffed black cat on her shoulder (Alanna from the Tamora Pierce books). Lower left: Alona, seated and holding M in her lap (M's face is blurred). Center: a patch with a sword that reads "Current side quest brought to you by ADHD. Below that (between Fiona and Alona): an embroidered square which reads: "Reading is Sexy." Lower left: an embroidered square with the Evenstar with the words: "I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone." Top: the Convergence logo, with an outstretched female robot. Upper right: a glowing white butterfly.

Convergence

27 Convergence

Click on the links to see the 2026, 2025, 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.
wychwood: pixel Iron Man flies around (Fan - IM flying)
[personal profile] wychwood
The weather is beyond anything reasonable. This is the third official heatwave this summer so far, it's been going almost a week and has at least a week left according to the forecasts, and I am extremely bored of it. The only benefit of having been in the office all week is that there is some degree of aircon there.

Fortunately it is much less personally-miserable than the one at the end of June; it's cooling down into the mid-teens at night, and it's not as humid, I don't think. But it's much longer-lasting and with the best I can do it's still mid- to high-twenties inside my flat and even the fan is mostly blowing unrefreshing warm air at me.

I am, finally, on annual leave but it's hard to think about enjoying anything when it's too hot even to lie around comfortably...

Still, enough whining; it could have been much worse, and I'm mostly still sleeping reasonably, thank goodness.

I just bought a new Humble Bundle and have spare Steam codes for Gone Home, Neo Cab, and Darkside Detective: A Fumble in the Dark if anyone wants! I haven't played much of them, but very much enjoyed the first Darkside Detective game, a bit of a Monkey Island vibe only with occult detectives instead of pirates.

(no subject)

Jul. 11th, 2026 12:33 pm
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] emperorzombie!
sovay: (Sovay: David Owen)
[personal profile] sovay
Readercon! I had not thought that my body was capable any longer of a reading and three panels on two hours of sleep and as far as I can tell, I had a great time. I talked about the Bacchae for Mirrlees and Rika Lesser for classical reception and film noir for moral ambiguity, news at eleven. I heard other panelists talk about the boundary conditions of fantasy and the topical relevance of the Sicilian Expedition and Walter Mosley's Mouse, especially as played by Don Cheadle in Carl Franklin's Devil in a Blue Dress (1995). All could have gone on cheerfully past the five-minute card and then the vaudeville-hook STOP. The auto-transcription had not existed the last time I was part of this convention and it was particularly inventive in its mondegreens for Lud-in-the-Mist (1926). I was complimented more than once on my cat-Neptune T-shirt from the Coney Island Mermaid Parade. I may have socialized more in eight hours than in the total last two or three years. Incompletely, I have seen and even spent meaningful time with Dean Grodzins, Greer Gilman, Merav Hoffman, Michael Cisco, Gwynne Garfinkle, Rachel Gutin, Rebecca Fraimow and Elizabeth Birdsall, Mike and Anita Allen, Jim Freund and Barbara Krasnoff, Romie Stott, and [personal profile] choco_frosh. I did not stay for Meet the Pros(e) because I was flat by the last of my panels and needed to check on my mother, but I have still managed to have conversations about Shirley Jackson and Walter de la Mare and family histories and chapbooks and what everyone has been doing with themselves in the up to seven years since last I saw them. I barely managed to look into the dealer's room, but I am still in possession of a field guide to urban lichens which Greer had foreseen had my name on it and two beautiful, familially inherited waistcoats from Merav which I am determined to wear with at least one of the other T-shirts I packed for this layer-less weekend. They made me a dinner of rainbow trout and glass noodles in their air-filtered room; otherwise I spent a lot of time on the patio where the cast-iron tables were just tolerably shaded enough for hanging out in the open air. I am appreciating the adherence to masking in all the con spaces, without which I could not hope to spend this much immunosuppressed time around other, indoor people. Fingers crossed against even con crud. Tomorrow, bog bodies.

I'm reading a fanfic where

Jul. 12th, 2026 10:46 am
conuly: (Default)
[personal profile] conuly
so many people are expressing concern that our beloved 11 year old talks about how much he enjoys cooking and - okay, yes, we all know he has an abused child backstory, but they don't know that! 11 years old is a perfectly reasonable age to know how to cook, or to enjoy it as a hobby! Lots of kids that age can cook and bake!

It's deeply annoying. The writer clearly is making some assumptions there, and I do not like that assumption.

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