Gnnnarrrhhhhhhhhh......
OK. I am almost human again.
First of all, yes, this was about my animals. I knew all of them. At last, an animal accident story from me that isn't funny. No, I don't want to talk about it.
Second, Gencon's over, I'm still alive, it had its good points and bad points, and now I have weapons with which to take out the frustrations of the day on the people I love.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Brace For Impact
This week is GenCon, and my workplace is already becoming snappish and unpleasant. As always, I'm restraining myself from saying "The reason you've got 8 million things to do in four days is because you didn't do any of this shit back in June and July, when you had some time on your hands..." and am quietly going about the things I need to get done before the show. This includes:
1) Cleaning my house so my houseguest Charles doesn't see what a foul pit I normally live in.
2) Cleaning my shower, because I looked at it the other day and I was all like "holy crap, how long has it looked like that??" the light in there is busted, and I tend to shower in the dim twilight of the morning, so I hadn't really been fully aware of the scum-tacularness of the wall under the soap dish til yesterday.
3) mowing the lawn
4) Weeding my former advisor's garden for fun and profit
5) Making up a syllabus for the class I'm teaching this fall, which is approaching with uncomfortable rapidity
6) Going hiking
7) Packing miniatures
8) Eating a balanced diet
9) Painting the dining room
10) Blogging (not really.)
Obviously, not all this stuff has to do with Gencon itself, but it's all part of the not-having-a-moment-to-breathe experience that's going to suck away the next 7 days of my life.
Last year my car and I both had a breakdown right after the con. (The car cost me about $1500; the personal breakdown passed when I realized I wasn't going to have to buy a new car.) I'm hoping both of us can hold it together this year--but I suppose we'll see...
This week is GenCon, and my workplace is already becoming snappish and unpleasant. As always, I'm restraining myself from saying "The reason you've got 8 million things to do in four days is because you didn't do any of this shit back in June and July, when you had some time on your hands..." and am quietly going about the things I need to get done before the show. This includes:
1) Cleaning my house so my houseguest Charles doesn't see what a foul pit I normally live in.
2) Cleaning my shower, because I looked at it the other day and I was all like "holy crap, how long has it looked like that??" the light in there is busted, and I tend to shower in the dim twilight of the morning, so I hadn't really been fully aware of the scum-tacularness of the wall under the soap dish til yesterday.
3) mowing the lawn
4) Weeding my former advisor's garden for fun and profit
5) Making up a syllabus for the class I'm teaching this fall, which is approaching with uncomfortable rapidity
6) Going hiking
7) Packing miniatures
8) Eating a balanced diet
9) Painting the dining room
10) Blogging (not really.)
Obviously, not all this stuff has to do with Gencon itself, but it's all part of the not-having-a-moment-to-breathe experience that's going to suck away the next 7 days of my life.
Last year my car and I both had a breakdown right after the con. (The car cost me about $1500; the personal breakdown passed when I realized I wasn't going to have to buy a new car.) I'm hoping both of us can hold it together this year--but I suppose we'll see...
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Hooray!
Happy Shark Week!
In honor of Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, I offer you yet another thieving--this time from Fafblog's Friday Pie-Blog from a month or so back. I know I want to be a pieologist at the National Pie Institute of Pies, when I grow up.
And my wall is now plastered, but I'm not. Maybe I should remedy this.....
In honor of Shark Week on the Discovery Channel, I offer you yet another thieving--this time from Fafblog's Friday Pie-Blog from a month or so back. I know I want to be a pieologist at the National Pie Institute of Pies, when I grow up.
And my wall is now plastered, but I'm not. Maybe I should remedy this.....
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Annual Birthday Post
Go me, it's my birthday! Go me, it's my birthday!
OK, I'd planned a cunning sorta post about getting older and not wiser, and all that stuff.... but now I'm tired, and I got a sunburn at the baseball game, so the tops of my feet are all itchy and owie. So the sage musing upon the symbolic meaning of birthdays will have to wait. I'm actually not depressed this birthday, which is saying a lot! Usually birthday and new years are my two big mood potholes; but I had a great weekend. Got my fingers crossed for a good week. And now, I bid you goodnight.
Go me, it's my birthday! Go me, it's my birthday!
OK, I'd planned a cunning sorta post about getting older and not wiser, and all that stuff.... but now I'm tired, and I got a sunburn at the baseball game, so the tops of my feet are all itchy and owie. So the sage musing upon the symbolic meaning of birthdays will have to wait. I'm actually not depressed this birthday, which is saying a lot! Usually birthday and new years are my two big mood potholes; but I had a great weekend. Got my fingers crossed for a good week. And now, I bid you goodnight.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Battle of the Dining Room: Round 1
At the risk of boring my gentle readers with home DIY posts, I'm actually sort of excited about my dining room at the moment. Over a year ago, you might recall I had a major plumbing backup which demanded that my septic line be dug up and re-laid; it also meant that I finally ripped out the crappy nasty wall to wall carpet in the downstairs. But, things being as they are, I didn't have the time or the ability to do anything else about the situation until this Spring, when I decided to repaint the walls and look at new floor options.
Nothing like deciding to start a project to make the whole thing infinitely more complicated. I found out first that my concrete floor is not flat. Second, that the tiny crack in the wall, which I thought I could just scrape and spackle, was actually the harbinger of massive plaster damage. I scraped, and scraped some more, and then suddenly i was looking at a glimmer of daylight through the hole in my wall. Caulk fixed the crack where the water had been seeping in, but the interior damage was daunting, and I've spent the last 2 months trying to figure out how to fix it myself. The answer, of course, is that the way to fix it is look up "Plasterers" on Angie's List, and have a professional do it. That's finally happening later this week. The floor, on the other hand, is doable; my father and I spent a couple hours this morning learning the joys of self-leveling cement compound, and tomorrow I'll be sanding off all the lumps left by our inadequate mixing skillz. I'm actually pretty excited at the prospect of having a functional dining room in the next month-due to the nasty carpet, it's never been a room I wanted to spend much time in even when I first moved in. So you may be subjected to occasional Dining Room Diary entries in the coming weeks, just because it's so damn cool to finally get something done! You have been warned....
At the risk of boring my gentle readers with home DIY posts, I'm actually sort of excited about my dining room at the moment. Over a year ago, you might recall I had a major plumbing backup which demanded that my septic line be dug up and re-laid; it also meant that I finally ripped out the crappy nasty wall to wall carpet in the downstairs. But, things being as they are, I didn't have the time or the ability to do anything else about the situation until this Spring, when I decided to repaint the walls and look at new floor options.
Nothing like deciding to start a project to make the whole thing infinitely more complicated. I found out first that my concrete floor is not flat. Second, that the tiny crack in the wall, which I thought I could just scrape and spackle, was actually the harbinger of massive plaster damage. I scraped, and scraped some more, and then suddenly i was looking at a glimmer of daylight through the hole in my wall. Caulk fixed the crack where the water had been seeping in, but the interior damage was daunting, and I've spent the last 2 months trying to figure out how to fix it myself. The answer, of course, is that the way to fix it is look up "Plasterers" on Angie's List, and have a professional do it. That's finally happening later this week. The floor, on the other hand, is doable; my father and I spent a couple hours this morning learning the joys of self-leveling cement compound, and tomorrow I'll be sanding off all the lumps left by our inadequate mixing skillz. I'm actually pretty excited at the prospect of having a functional dining room in the next month-due to the nasty carpet, it's never been a room I wanted to spend much time in even when I first moved in. So you may be subjected to occasional Dining Room Diary entries in the coming weeks, just because it's so damn cool to finally get something done! You have been warned....
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Binding Games??
You'd Think Paradise Island Would Have a Bigger Tourism Industry....
OK, I can't help it. I'll stop, I promise. But isn't it sweet of Wonder Woman to be all concerned about safety in a bondage situation?
Oh crap. Now I'm going to get google hits on "WW bondage"....
OK, I can't help it. I'll stop, I promise. But isn't it sweet of Wonder Woman to be all concerned about safety in a bondage situation?
Oh crap. Now I'm going to get google hits on "WW bondage"....
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Oh, How They Chortled...
Can't....Stop....Laughing.....
OK, this is purely a link post, and I already posted it on my pathetic excuse for a livejournal.... but this site, revealed to me by Upyernoz has given me literally hours of fun. Superman Is a Dick apparently went viral a year or so ago and I missed it; but I used to buy these 50's and 60's era DC comics by the handful out of the sale bin at Comic Carnival. To see them collected here in all their absurdity is nothing short of wonderful. The Seduction of the Innocent gallery features unaltered panels and covers from a time when "boner" just meant "embarassing tactical error."
OK, this is purely a link post, and I already posted it on my pathetic excuse for a livejournal.... but this site, revealed to me by Upyernoz has given me literally hours of fun. Superman Is a Dick apparently went viral a year or so ago and I missed it; but I used to buy these 50's and 60's era DC comics by the handful out of the sale bin at Comic Carnival. To see them collected here in all their absurdity is nothing short of wonderful. The Seduction of the Innocent gallery features unaltered panels and covers from a time when "boner" just meant "embarassing tactical error."
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Prosecution for Illegal Posses...uh oh.
On the Run from the Borden Police
I decided that one of the things holding me back from being a true Bike Commuter Type was that I didn't really have a good way to carry stuff--like a change of clothes, or my notebooks for class, or the groceries. I have a backpack, of course, but I have a tendency to sweat like Niagara Falls at the slightest provocation (sorry if that was more than you wanted to know about me) and so whenever I get anywhere and take the backpack off, I have to wring it out before unzipping it and removing its slightly dampened contents. Not ideal. I looked at snazzy panniers and saddlebags at the bike store, but the whopping price tags on those babies is a little more than my mostly-jobless state can handle right now. I tried tying my backpack onto the bike rack with a bungee cord, but bungees can slip, and I almost did a header into the canal when part of my backpack escaped and threw itself into the spokes of my back tire at the end of last semester. My final resort: Operation Stolen Milk Crate.
I hasten to point out that I didn't steal this milk crate. I got it from a friend of mine who works for a dairy, and her dairy presumably stole it from its rightful owners behind a supermarket at some point. But now I have it, and it's tied to the back of my bike with brown twine (because if you're going to look like an utter dork, you might as well do it up right) and I've been assured by one of my cool friends who bikes that the milk-crate-over-the-tire look is hip. At least I think that's what she said. Anyway, so now I'm living in fear that some official of the Borden Patrol will spot me peddling sweatily along the canal path toward the health food store, and call in their team of expert dairy snipers for the takedown and recovery. I'll never know what hit me.
I decided that one of the things holding me back from being a true Bike Commuter Type was that I didn't really have a good way to carry stuff--like a change of clothes, or my notebooks for class, or the groceries. I have a backpack, of course, but I have a tendency to sweat like Niagara Falls at the slightest provocation (sorry if that was more than you wanted to know about me) and so whenever I get anywhere and take the backpack off, I have to wring it out before unzipping it and removing its slightly dampened contents. Not ideal. I looked at snazzy panniers and saddlebags at the bike store, but the whopping price tags on those babies is a little more than my mostly-jobless state can handle right now. I tried tying my backpack onto the bike rack with a bungee cord, but bungees can slip, and I almost did a header into the canal when part of my backpack escaped and threw itself into the spokes of my back tire at the end of last semester. My final resort: Operation Stolen Milk Crate.
I hasten to point out that I didn't steal this milk crate. I got it from a friend of mine who works for a dairy, and her dairy presumably stole it from its rightful owners behind a supermarket at some point. But now I have it, and it's tied to the back of my bike with brown twine (because if you're going to look like an utter dork, you might as well do it up right) and I've been assured by one of my cool friends who bikes that the milk-crate-over-the-tire look is hip. At least I think that's what she said. Anyway, so now I'm living in fear that some official of the Borden Patrol will spot me peddling sweatily along the canal path toward the health food store, and call in their team of expert dairy snipers for the takedown and recovery. I'll never know what hit me.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
The Giant Brat of Madison
NIce Buns!
As promised, here is Kelly's picture of the giant walking hot dog and its handler. Sadly, it appears to be without condiments of any kind. Note that it's smiling bravely, belying its inner sense of mustardless sorrow and desolation.
I got turned down for another job, so I'm also trying to smile in the face of mustardless sorrow. Oh, wait, I do have mustard--this must be a different kind of sorrow. The kind with no money and lots of bills..... Ah well. I'm revamping my painting website, maybe people will start throwing money at me in exchange for tiny nazis and little space elves....
As promised, here is Kelly's picture of the giant walking hot dog and its handler. Sadly, it appears to be without condiments of any kind. Note that it's smiling bravely, belying its inner sense of mustardless sorrow and desolation.
I got turned down for another job, so I'm also trying to smile in the face of mustardless sorrow. Oh, wait, I do have mustard--this must be a different kind of sorrow. The kind with no money and lots of bills..... Ah well. I'm revamping my painting website, maybe people will start throwing money at me in exchange for tiny nazis and little space elves....
Thursday, June 08, 2006
I Saved Christmas!
Well, no, actually I didn't. But I did save my fishtank from being dismantled, which was about to be my last ditch recourse to solve my water chemistry problem. I was all set to net out my one remaining tetra (we'll call him "Mr. T") and the catfish, put them in a holding tank, and take the whole thing to bits, when lo and behold--the lord spoke to me. He spoke, and he said, "Try checking your CO2 levels. Dumbass."
I won't bore you all with the details, as Jane's the only other aquarist I know and we already comiserated on this topic. (We're each other's fish confidants--strictly monoichthyous, of course.) But the upshot is, ripped out half my plants, and *gasp* added some new fish to try to raise the CO2. Mr. T was stunned to have company, after all these months; but the two new serpae tetras are now totally his groupies, they're following him deferentially around the tank and apologising for living, and occasionally he'll smack up one of them to remind them who's in charge. I added 4 miscellaneous danios as well... but when I got back from dinner, one of them was missing. He turned up in the filter box; I gave him FPR (fishiopulmonary recessutation) and he came back for a bit, but I think he's really checked out for good now. Sigh. Stupid danios. I've never had any fish go up the filter but them, and it's happened twice now. Anyway, we'll see if I've really saved Christmas or not. I ordered the parts to put together a CO2 generator from a science supply company, which turned out on examination to also be a supplier of creationist science materials for homeschoolers. I'm really hoping they don't share their mailing list--I'm happy to buy some 30¢ rubber stoppers from them, they shipped fast and get aces for customer service so far. But I'd just as soon not get emails advertising books with titles like "Fossils: Fact or Fiction?" or quality dinosaur books such as this one, which came highly recommended on their website....
Well, no, actually I didn't. But I did save my fishtank from being dismantled, which was about to be my last ditch recourse to solve my water chemistry problem. I was all set to net out my one remaining tetra (we'll call him "Mr. T") and the catfish, put them in a holding tank, and take the whole thing to bits, when lo and behold--the lord spoke to me. He spoke, and he said, "Try checking your CO2 levels. Dumbass."
I won't bore you all with the details, as Jane's the only other aquarist I know and we already comiserated on this topic. (We're each other's fish confidants--strictly monoichthyous, of course.) But the upshot is, ripped out half my plants, and *gasp* added some new fish to try to raise the CO2. Mr. T was stunned to have company, after all these months; but the two new serpae tetras are now totally his groupies, they're following him deferentially around the tank and apologising for living, and occasionally he'll smack up one of them to remind them who's in charge. I added 4 miscellaneous danios as well... but when I got back from dinner, one of them was missing. He turned up in the filter box; I gave him FPR (fishiopulmonary recessutation) and he came back for a bit, but I think he's really checked out for good now. Sigh. Stupid danios. I've never had any fish go up the filter but them, and it's happened twice now. Anyway, we'll see if I've really saved Christmas or not. I ordered the parts to put together a CO2 generator from a science supply company, which turned out on examination to also be a supplier of creationist science materials for homeschoolers. I'm really hoping they don't share their mailing list--I'm happy to buy some 30¢ rubber stoppers from them, they shipped fast and get aces for customer service so far. But I'd just as soon not get emails advertising books with titles like "Fossils: Fact or Fiction?" or quality dinosaur books such as this one, which came highly recommended on their website....
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Olivia
Why My Life Is (Occasionally) Cool Beyond Belief...
Because I get to feed this gorgeous beast every Thursday morning, give or take a few. She's a giant pacific octopus named Olivia, and after an initial period of shyness she's gotten very friendly with me. Octopi are extremely intelligent and curious; I never get tired of watching her and her neighbor, the huge-ass cuttlefish. I've uploaded pics of them all on flickr if you want to see them, along with one of the very selfsame penguin who caused the entire Penguin Incident back in 2003. Check 'em out, yo!
Because I get to feed this gorgeous beast every Thursday morning, give or take a few. She's a giant pacific octopus named Olivia, and after an initial period of shyness she's gotten very friendly with me. Octopi are extremely intelligent and curious; I never get tired of watching her and her neighbor, the huge-ass cuttlefish. I've uploaded pics of them all on flickr if you want to see them, along with one of the very selfsame penguin who caused the entire Penguin Incident back in 2003. Check 'em out, yo!
Monday, May 29, 2006
Coming in to Land
Well, back again and none the worse for wear. Adventures continued as we left the hotel; Jeremy and I on a road trip are a unique experience, as Becky will tell you. It's kind of like Kermit and Fozzie in the Studebaker.... But with a lot more yelling and rude gestures. Apparently my inability to successfully pull over at Terminal 2 at O'Hare on the first go-round nearly caused him to miss his plane. Which I think would have been fuckin' hiLARious, but I suppose I might have felt differently in his position. Still--ha haaa!
Then I spent another 2 hours driving through construction around Chicago. Dammit.
High spots of the con included the aforementioned giant hot dog; a women in gaming panel; a panel on autism/Asperger's and its relationship to fandom; a panel on successful flirting and pickups at cons, which was pretty damn funny; and a number of readings by authors I'm vaguely aware of. (My usual sense of literary lameness was carried over to yet another con--I don't think I've read a fantasy book in over a year, and the only sci-fi was the new William Gibson. I swear, I'm really cutting edge, just in a non-fiction sort of a way. really. Totally cutting.) The autism panel was particuarly good, although I sat there with my hand up for a good 30 minutes without getting called on and finally gave up. Back when I worked in game retail, I noticed (it was impossible not to notice) that a significant percentage of people in our hobby show a lot of the key markers for autism and Asperger's. It was interesting to hear the issue discussed in regards to sci-fi fandom, as it doesn't really get talked about within the game industry... Also made a connection with one of the guys who was on the game panel, he apparently wants to talk further about women in the miniatures hobby for some research he's doing. I'd link to his website, but apparently I already lost his business card. I suppose that was predictable.... Maybe he'll email me.
And speaking of painting, I finally finished the commission that's been hanging overhead for 3 months and mailed it Friday before leaving. Yaaaay! Now I can start all the other projects that were lying in wait for that one to be done. I'd do it tonight, but it's way damn hot in the house, and the laptop has raised my body temperature to a dangerous level. So it'll have to wait.
Well, back again and none the worse for wear. Adventures continued as we left the hotel; Jeremy and I on a road trip are a unique experience, as Becky will tell you. It's kind of like Kermit and Fozzie in the Studebaker.... But with a lot more yelling and rude gestures. Apparently my inability to successfully pull over at Terminal 2 at O'Hare on the first go-round nearly caused him to miss his plane. Which I think would have been fuckin' hiLARious, but I suppose I might have felt differently in his position. Still--ha haaa!
Then I spent another 2 hours driving through construction around Chicago. Dammit.
High spots of the con included the aforementioned giant hot dog; a women in gaming panel; a panel on autism/Asperger's and its relationship to fandom; a panel on successful flirting and pickups at cons, which was pretty damn funny; and a number of readings by authors I'm vaguely aware of. (My usual sense of literary lameness was carried over to yet another con--I don't think I've read a fantasy book in over a year, and the only sci-fi was the new William Gibson. I swear, I'm really cutting edge, just in a non-fiction sort of a way. really. Totally cutting.) The autism panel was particuarly good, although I sat there with my hand up for a good 30 minutes without getting called on and finally gave up. Back when I worked in game retail, I noticed (it was impossible not to notice) that a significant percentage of people in our hobby show a lot of the key markers for autism and Asperger's. It was interesting to hear the issue discussed in regards to sci-fi fandom, as it doesn't really get talked about within the game industry... Also made a connection with one of the guys who was on the game panel, he apparently wants to talk further about women in the miniatures hobby for some research he's doing. I'd link to his website, but apparently I already lost his business card. I suppose that was predictable.... Maybe he'll email me.
And speaking of painting, I finally finished the commission that's been hanging overhead for 3 months and mailed it Friday before leaving. Yaaaay! Now I can start all the other projects that were lying in wait for that one to be done. I'd do it tonight, but it's way damn hot in the house, and the laptop has raised my body temperature to a dangerous level. So it'll have to wait.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Because Nothing Is Ever Typical
One of my problems with this con, as I've said before, is the sort of strange inner-circle/outer-fringe atmosphere that pervades the place. It really is lovely and friendly and warm and kind, but some people take the con very personally and seriously, and are extremely gushy and sentimental on the topic. There was an essay in the newsletter this morning that waxed sappily poetic on why Wiscon is so very special. Now, I look tremendously forward to going to Wiscon each year (despite a lot of foot-dragging around registration time.) But for me, the finer moments come between the panels and readings and such...
So we're walking down Dayton toward State Street, and see our friend Stephen across the road, and the following shouted conversation ensued:
ME: HEY STEPHEN!!
STEPHEN: WHAT?
ME: HOW WERE YOUR PANELS THIS MORNING?
STEPHEN: WHAT??
ME: HOW WERE--
JEREMY: Look! A giant hot dog!
ME: I'M SORRY, BUT JEREMY'S SEEN A HOT DOG. WE HAVE TO GO.
STEPHEN: ?!?!WHAT??
And sure enough, a guy dressed as a giant hot dog was walking down State Street a block away. Kelly, our instant roommate, (she couldn't find other housing. Just Add Desperation!) was the only one of us possessed of a cell phone camera, and as soon as the pictures are posted, I'll link to them. She ran half a block, in sweltering heat and humidity, sacrificing her own personal dignity to get a picture of a man dressed up as a brat. We salute her. This, then is the true meaning of Wiscon--solidarity, fraternity, and public humiliation.
One of my problems with this con, as I've said before, is the sort of strange inner-circle/outer-fringe atmosphere that pervades the place. It really is lovely and friendly and warm and kind, but some people take the con very personally and seriously, and are extremely gushy and sentimental on the topic. There was an essay in the newsletter this morning that waxed sappily poetic on why Wiscon is so very special. Now, I look tremendously forward to going to Wiscon each year (despite a lot of foot-dragging around registration time.) But for me, the finer moments come between the panels and readings and such...
So we're walking down Dayton toward State Street, and see our friend Stephen across the road, and the following shouted conversation ensued:
ME: HEY STEPHEN!!
STEPHEN: WHAT?
ME: HOW WERE YOUR PANELS THIS MORNING?
STEPHEN: WHAT??
ME: HOW WERE--
JEREMY: Look! A giant hot dog!
ME: I'M SORRY, BUT JEREMY'S SEEN A HOT DOG. WE HAVE TO GO.
STEPHEN: ?!?!WHAT??
And sure enough, a guy dressed as a giant hot dog was walking down State Street a block away. Kelly, our instant roommate, (she couldn't find other housing. Just Add Desperation!) was the only one of us possessed of a cell phone camera, and as soon as the pictures are posted, I'll link to them. She ran half a block, in sweltering heat and humidity, sacrificing her own personal dignity to get a picture of a man dressed up as a brat. We salute her. This, then is the true meaning of Wiscon--solidarity, fraternity, and public humiliation.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
I'm Evil.
I'm at a sci-fi convention in Madison, Wisconsin right now. That, in itself, isn't evil. But my roommate, Upyernoz, has been so kind as to leave his computer on and available in the room so I can check my email and blog on the hotel's WiFi connection. I have just utterly abused his kindness by taking advantage of the fact that he didn't log out of his own blogger account before leaving the room today, and posting something to his weblog. He really should know better. We've been playing practical jokes on each other for years. I just wish I could have come up with something better to post--but as he has a much larger readership than I do, and some of them actually take him seriously (lord, if they only knew him as I do...) I felt it might be bad to actually post something almost plausible and yet false. Don't think I couldn't have, Noz! I held myself in check! But oh.... what an opportunity.....
I have to go steal some food from the various parties now. And then go to a panel about librarians.Catch you on the flip side.
I'm at a sci-fi convention in Madison, Wisconsin right now. That, in itself, isn't evil. But my roommate, Upyernoz, has been so kind as to leave his computer on and available in the room so I can check my email and blog on the hotel's WiFi connection. I have just utterly abused his kindness by taking advantage of the fact that he didn't log out of his own blogger account before leaving the room today, and posting something to his weblog. He really should know better. We've been playing practical jokes on each other for years. I just wish I could have come up with something better to post--but as he has a much larger readership than I do, and some of them actually take him seriously (lord, if they only knew him as I do...) I felt it might be bad to actually post something almost plausible and yet false. Don't think I couldn't have, Noz! I held myself in check! But oh.... what an opportunity.....
I have to go steal some food from the various parties now. And then go to a panel about librarians.Catch you on the flip side.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
The Way of All Flesh
When I was 16 or 17, I started hanging out at the local game store, as so many young nerds do. Eventually I got a job there as the scullery wench; the co-worker I got on with the best was a heavyset, red-bearded guy in his 30's who looked just like I always imagined the dwarves in The Hobbit to look (only taller, of course.) He got me started painting miniatures; he ran the very first role-playing game I ever tried; he introduced me to the works of H.P. Lovecraft by telling me the story of the Cats of Ulthar from memory one night when we both worked til close. Any time someone would come into the store and say, "Hey Kurt, how are you?" he would respond, thoughtfully, "Well, I'm just perfect." He encouraged my passing interests in history and medievalism, and thus was partially responsible for my ending up a medieval studies major in college. This tickled him no end when I told him about it, and he told me that it was my duty as a writer and historian to write a paper about the Black Plague and title it "The Way of All Flesh." It's too elegant a phrase to waste.
On Tuesday I got a call from Kurt's brother letting me know that Kurt had gone the way of all flesh the night before. He'd been ill with cancer for some time, though he remained confident of his ability to conquer it right up until the end.
He became a teacher late in life, and I expect to see many of his young charges at his funeral on Saturday. But as one of his earliest students, in a joyous variety of topics during those evenings at the game store, I'd like to be among the first to say Yes, Kurt....you were perfect.
When I was 16 or 17, I started hanging out at the local game store, as so many young nerds do. Eventually I got a job there as the scullery wench; the co-worker I got on with the best was a heavyset, red-bearded guy in his 30's who looked just like I always imagined the dwarves in The Hobbit to look (only taller, of course.) He got me started painting miniatures; he ran the very first role-playing game I ever tried; he introduced me to the works of H.P. Lovecraft by telling me the story of the Cats of Ulthar from memory one night when we both worked til close. Any time someone would come into the store and say, "Hey Kurt, how are you?" he would respond, thoughtfully, "Well, I'm just perfect." He encouraged my passing interests in history and medievalism, and thus was partially responsible for my ending up a medieval studies major in college. This tickled him no end when I told him about it, and he told me that it was my duty as a writer and historian to write a paper about the Black Plague and title it "The Way of All Flesh." It's too elegant a phrase to waste.
On Tuesday I got a call from Kurt's brother letting me know that Kurt had gone the way of all flesh the night before. He'd been ill with cancer for some time, though he remained confident of his ability to conquer it right up until the end.
He became a teacher late in life, and I expect to see many of his young charges at his funeral on Saturday. But as one of his earliest students, in a joyous variety of topics during those evenings at the game store, I'd like to be among the first to say Yes, Kurt....you were perfect.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Joys in da Hood
I graduated again yesterday. It was my nicest commencement since Vassar; I say this because the Loyola one was nothing short of hideous on nearly all fronts. I was unhappy with the degree, the ceremony took hours, it was impersonal, the chairs were uncomfortable and there was no chance to flee the area at any point during the process. IUPUI, on the other hand, strives for the slick efficiency of a well-oiled machine. The hooding ceremony was at 10, and every graduate candidate (a couple hundred of us I think) was hooded by 11; lunch was done by noon and it was off to the School of Liberal Arts commencement. This featured an actual commencement speaker--the mayor--whose speech topic seemed to be, "Why you shouldn't regret majoring in the Liberal Arts, although you probably will anyway." (Frances Fergusson gave a similar speech at the Vassar Alumni event back in November, and hers was a bit more inspirational and reassuing to me... but it's hard to compare with Fran, really. I don't hold that against the mayor.) The liberal arts commencement took only an hour or so, even with all the undergrads walking across the stage to get their rolled-up piece of paper that isn't a diploma but a letter congratulating you on eventually getting a diploma. The next event was the all-school commencement in the Hoosier Dome, but by this point I was done. Not even the lure of possibly seeing my own visiage on the Jumbo-tron (TM) was enough to get me to stick around longer. I was strongly tempted to keep my Masters' hood--after all, no one was checking them back in, and the rental was $34--but honesty and lack of closet space won out.
Wonder what I'll go back to school for next...?
I graduated again yesterday. It was my nicest commencement since Vassar; I say this because the Loyola one was nothing short of hideous on nearly all fronts. I was unhappy with the degree, the ceremony took hours, it was impersonal, the chairs were uncomfortable and there was no chance to flee the area at any point during the process. IUPUI, on the other hand, strives for the slick efficiency of a well-oiled machine. The hooding ceremony was at 10, and every graduate candidate (a couple hundred of us I think) was hooded by 11; lunch was done by noon and it was off to the School of Liberal Arts commencement. This featured an actual commencement speaker--the mayor--whose speech topic seemed to be, "Why you shouldn't regret majoring in the Liberal Arts, although you probably will anyway." (Frances Fergusson gave a similar speech at the Vassar Alumni event back in November, and hers was a bit more inspirational and reassuing to me... but it's hard to compare with Fran, really. I don't hold that against the mayor.) The liberal arts commencement took only an hour or so, even with all the undergrads walking across the stage to get their rolled-up piece of paper that isn't a diploma but a letter congratulating you on eventually getting a diploma. The next event was the all-school commencement in the Hoosier Dome, but by this point I was done. Not even the lure of possibly seeing my own visiage on the Jumbo-tron (TM) was enough to get me to stick around longer. I was strongly tempted to keep my Masters' hood--after all, no one was checking them back in, and the rental was $34--but honesty and lack of closet space won out.
Wonder what I'll go back to school for next...?
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Movieing Violations
Well, it's over. I managed to see 7 films in 7 days, and used up my entire 10-ticket bundle. What else did I see, you may ask? Sisters in Law, a documentary from Cameroon about female judges and lawyers dealing with family law and rape cases in a misogynistic society. It was funny and fascinating and sad, all at once. I highly recommend it. Iron Island is only the second Iranian film I've ever seen... And it was only slightly less confusing and strange than the first one. One of the reviews on IMDB says that Iron Island "lets you make up your own mind." I'm sorry, but I'd at least like for the director to give the story a clear point or a followable plot--I'm happy then to make up my mind what I thought of it, but give me something to work with, here! Iron Island has one of the coolest setups of any movie I saw this week; a sort of floating city of poor people are living aboard an abandoned oil tanker, run by a big-fish-small-pond kind of guy who's essentially exploiting the people, they work for him in exchange for rent etc. But there's a love plot that ends incomprehensibly, the people are eventually forced off the boat but it's not clear what will happen to them, and a little kid runs off into the ocean and disappears. (I know the last one is symbolic, but I'm not sure of what since the water represents freedom for fish, and his name is Baby Fish--but the water is also what was imprisoning the people on the boat. So I dont' get it. Maybe I'm just not subtle enough to watch Iranian films.) Last but not least was Kinky Boots, which is based on a true story of a shoe manufacturer in Britain who saves his dying business by starting to specialize in womens' style shoes for transvestites and drag queens. It featured The Operative from "Serenity" as the main drag queen, and it was nothing short of hilarious. Two thumbs up, 5 stars, and so on.
Now school's out, grading is done, I've been to Kalamazoo and back, and things are returning to "normal." I have to dismantle my whole fishtank soon, the thought is daunting to say the least. Maybe I can avoid it a bit longer if I keep blogging regularly...
Well, it's over. I managed to see 7 films in 7 days, and used up my entire 10-ticket bundle. What else did I see, you may ask? Sisters in Law, a documentary from Cameroon about female judges and lawyers dealing with family law and rape cases in a misogynistic society. It was funny and fascinating and sad, all at once. I highly recommend it. Iron Island is only the second Iranian film I've ever seen... And it was only slightly less confusing and strange than the first one. One of the reviews on IMDB says that Iron Island "lets you make up your own mind." I'm sorry, but I'd at least like for the director to give the story a clear point or a followable plot--I'm happy then to make up my mind what I thought of it, but give me something to work with, here! Iron Island has one of the coolest setups of any movie I saw this week; a sort of floating city of poor people are living aboard an abandoned oil tanker, run by a big-fish-small-pond kind of guy who's essentially exploiting the people, they work for him in exchange for rent etc. But there's a love plot that ends incomprehensibly, the people are eventually forced off the boat but it's not clear what will happen to them, and a little kid runs off into the ocean and disappears. (I know the last one is symbolic, but I'm not sure of what since the water represents freedom for fish, and his name is Baby Fish--but the water is also what was imprisoning the people on the boat. So I dont' get it. Maybe I'm just not subtle enough to watch Iranian films.) Last but not least was Kinky Boots, which is based on a true story of a shoe manufacturer in Britain who saves his dying business by starting to specialize in womens' style shoes for transvestites and drag queens. It featured The Operative from "Serenity" as the main drag queen, and it was nothing short of hilarious. Two thumbs up, 5 stars, and so on.
Now school's out, grading is done, I've been to Kalamazoo and back, and things are returning to "normal." I have to dismantle my whole fishtank soon, the thought is daunting to say the least. Maybe I can avoid it a bit longer if I keep blogging regularly...
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Film Flam
The festival proceeds apace, marred somewhat by the fact that someone kipped the IFS cash box out of the projection booth at the art museum, sometime between Thursday night and Sunday morning. We lost about $150 and three new membership forms. Boo. Other than that, and some minor projection problems, it's all going swimmingly, and we had a number of new people show up at the IFS monthly screening tonight. Though if I see one more Stella Artois commercial before a film I may be forced to boycott their beer for life. (Apparentlly, one can grow tired even of funny European beer commercials.) Got a couple more reviews for you, whether you want them or not.
Lady Vengeance
Have you ever watched a movie, and said to yourself, "Wow, that was a great film, and I don't ever want to see it ever again"? I felt that way about Peter Greenaway's Pillow Book; it was tremendous and beautiful and fascinating, and it also made me want to barf and gave me creepy dreams for days afterwards. Chan-wook Park's Lady Vengeance was a lot like that (though not quite so much so.) It had moments of totally hilarious visual comedy, followed immediately by moments of "Dear god, that's so....wrong." It's not that it's totally gory--though there's a fair amount of blood and ick--but more just that the plot is plain disturbing. Much more so than the capsule on the link page would indicate. I don't think I want to see his other films, and while I really did like Lady Vengeance, I wouldn't recommend it if you're not in the mood for a bit of a mind fuck.
District 13
Brought to us by Luc Besson of La Femme Nikita fame, this is an action movie set in grimy future Paris, 2010. Upyernoz recommended this one to me as it got good reviews at the Philly Film Fest last month. While I'd not call it groundbreaking in terms of plot--it's kind of Escape From New York-ish--the martial arts and action sequences were beyond cool. The best I can describe it is sort of Matrix-style, but more beliveable; lots of jumps, kicks, and rolls and running up nearly sheer surfaces, all with no breaks in the movement. Each action flows into the next, it's like dance. And I'm told there was NO wire work in these sequences. If you see it, you'll find that as hard to believe as I do. I loved it.
I'm dividing my time between grading, movies, and yard work right now. Some time I need to work in painting, too, as I'm getting way behind.... Maybe next week.
The festival proceeds apace, marred somewhat by the fact that someone kipped the IFS cash box out of the projection booth at the art museum, sometime between Thursday night and Sunday morning. We lost about $150 and three new membership forms. Boo. Other than that, and some minor projection problems, it's all going swimmingly, and we had a number of new people show up at the IFS monthly screening tonight. Though if I see one more Stella Artois commercial before a film I may be forced to boycott their beer for life. (Apparentlly, one can grow tired even of funny European beer commercials.) Got a couple more reviews for you, whether you want them or not.
Lady Vengeance
Have you ever watched a movie, and said to yourself, "Wow, that was a great film, and I don't ever want to see it ever again"? I felt that way about Peter Greenaway's Pillow Book; it was tremendous and beautiful and fascinating, and it also made me want to barf and gave me creepy dreams for days afterwards. Chan-wook Park's Lady Vengeance was a lot like that (though not quite so much so.) It had moments of totally hilarious visual comedy, followed immediately by moments of "Dear god, that's so....wrong." It's not that it's totally gory--though there's a fair amount of blood and ick--but more just that the plot is plain disturbing. Much more so than the capsule on the link page would indicate. I don't think I want to see his other films, and while I really did like Lady Vengeance, I wouldn't recommend it if you're not in the mood for a bit of a mind fuck.
District 13
Brought to us by Luc Besson of La Femme Nikita fame, this is an action movie set in grimy future Paris, 2010. Upyernoz recommended this one to me as it got good reviews at the Philly Film Fest last month. While I'd not call it groundbreaking in terms of plot--it's kind of Escape From New York-ish--the martial arts and action sequences were beyond cool. The best I can describe it is sort of Matrix-style, but more beliveable; lots of jumps, kicks, and rolls and running up nearly sheer surfaces, all with no breaks in the movement. Each action flows into the next, it's like dance. And I'm told there was NO wire work in these sequences. If you see it, you'll find that as hard to believe as I do. I loved it.
I'm dividing my time between grading, movies, and yard work right now. Some time I need to work in painting, too, as I'm getting way behind.... Maybe next week.
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