they must need bears

This is not me wishing the year or the current fabulous weather, although when you take a look at tomorrow's forecast you might want to remember you umbrella, but one of the plants I have growing in my garden is the Last Rose of Summer. It's blooming (great) at the moment, and will do for the rest of the year, taking a little bit of a break at the height of summer, to flower again into autumn and winter (November).

When we move, I'd like to still have one in our garden, and I could buy another one, but I was wondering is it possible/easy to take cuttings and if so how/when do I do it?

This is really posted here as a reminder to me to find out, but if anyone reading this does know the answers to these questions ... well, you know where to find me... :-)

http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/boingboing/iBag/~3/290072893/london-supermarket-s.html

Budgens, a London supermarket chain, secretly records biometric facial photos of people who buy cigarettes and alcohol and compares it to a database of known underage buyers, and they're hoping to link their database with other grocery chains around the country. This means that just bringing a bottle up to the till means that your likeness and details will be added to a nationwide database, recording your movements and purchasing habits.

They'll probably be forced to drop the "secrecy" bit in the end, but that will not bring an end to the practice. Instead, they'll just put a sign up next to the till saying, "By buying alcohol here, you agree that we can violate your privacy and share your information with anyone we feel like." After all, that's what they do with the CCTV signs in London already.

If successful, it could be rolled out across the country to create a database of youngsters who try to buy alcohol.

The system alerts a cashier if it 'recognises' someone who has previously been unable to prove they are 18.

It is believed to be the first time a British retailer has used the technology in this way.

The software takes measurements between key points on the face to make a template of a person's features that is stored as a "token".

Customers' images are monitored and relayed to a control centre to be compared with under-18s already on record.

Future options include other retailers linking the scheme to their shops to create a giant database.

Link (Thanks, Frank!)

The Plague has the plague. Actually, both boys are home from school today, which is . . . not what I had planned.

Yesterday I sent the Plague into the bathroom to wash his hands. The water ran for a very long time--long enough to penetrate the story fog and make me nervous.

Me: [Plague]? What are you doing in there?
Plague: [appears in doorway of office] Uh, Mom? I screwed up. I broke the sink. It's all [handwavy motions] off on the side.

As it turned out, he'd only found out that half the faucet handle unscrews. No permanent damage, no water spraying over the bathroom. But I'm still looking forward to the day when I send him to wash his hands and he just, you know, washes his hands.

iai -- I'm going to ask specifically about shibori/tenouchi tonight. Kihon!

I'm also gradually getting over the sword fiasco. The thing that sucks most about it is the sheer time involved in the various processes. *sigh* Maybe I'll have it by my birthday.

judo -- Last night was a tomoenage night. I got to work with Shannon, which means she had to put a lot into it. But I think she got a lot out.

naginata -- still practicing! Getting smoother and more accurate. Outside practice is tough, though, because I can't properly slide forward in the cuts.

work -- work

family -- meds adjustment time for the Mr. Seems to happen every spring.

school -- ha! noschool!

reading -- The World Turned Upside Down, with that good Muromachi period stuff.

Good morning all. I'm just coming off a night of very poor quality sleep, but I'll be okay.

Unfortunately, I need to be okay now, so I don't need to run headlong into that quaint Russian habit of creating a pseudo abbreviation out of a word by replacing the body of the word with a dash, retaining typically two letters up front and one or two at the back. Example:

Установка отпарки отходов пр-ва серной кислотоы

After staring at the above for a full minute and trying to guess what "пр-ва" might stand for, I came up with a Find string that does the trick fairly well:

?ltпр[а-я]@в

Interpretation: Starting at a word boundary, find the string "пр", followed by one or more lowercase Cyrillic letter(s), followed by a "в" (I don't care about the last "а", since that's an ending).

Right off the bat, this finds me "производство" (though granted, not with the "greedy" kind of matchup that would be so satisfying), which causes me to have a "you-coulda-had-a-V-8!" moment, as in retrospect, that's all it could be.

I. Need. Coffee.

Cheers...

If we hired like we vote

Thanx to Jesus' General.

Yesterday's accomplishments in the garden:

1. Scrounged through the garage and found enough wood for one more raised bed. (Time to start taking the deck apart...)
2. Filled the three new beds by the fence half-way with half-rotted compost.
3. Put old magazines and catalogs down between the fence beds and topped them with pine mulch and three pavers for easy side access.
4. Weeded the border of the fence bed.
5. Lined the fence bed with rocks and bricks and pine mulch.
6. Topped off the fence bed closest to the lilac with potting soil and filled it with Little Marvel peas.
7. Put two bags of topsoil and the remains of a potting soil bag in the fence bed closest to the house. (It still needs more...)
8. Mulched the blueberry tank with a layer of oak leaves and a layer of pine mulch.
9. Weeded a quarter of the border of the white pine bed. (Crabgrass is a bitch!)
10. Unloaded the Home Depot haul: 12 new pavers (to match the old ones), three pages of compost and four bags of garden soil.
11. Picked up more bamboo stakes, a new hummingbird feeder and five bads of potting soil from the hardware store.
12. Picked up a Liatris spicata (gayfeather), delphinum, and a Purple Palace heuchera from the nursery.
13. Unloaded the five bags of potting soil.
14. Moved the potted plants temporarily to the middle fence bed and path for easy watering.
15. Weeded the deck border.
16. Top off the ComposTumbler with weeding refuse for my first full load.

Why do I feel like I got nothing done?...

Message from Alex Beecroft.

If you're from the UK and you're a published author, and you're looking for a place to promote your books, then the new Britwriters Blog might
be for you.

http://wulfwaru.wordpress.com/

If you're not from the UK, but you've considered writing a book set in Britain - whether a contemporary or a historical - then this blog should
have something to interest you too.

We're looking for British writers who are willing to contribute articles of interest about British life, history, the publishing industry in the
UK and USA, makes of cars in Britain, the 101 most misunderstood words in either continent etc - anything that would be of general interest.
In return you can use the blog for judicious self promotion. The aim is to create a fun and interesting blog, which people come back to to read
and enjoy. If that sounds like your cup of tea, then please join us on:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/The_Britwriters/

(The blog is the public face of the group. The yahoo group is the place where the behind the scenes organization goes on. In the absence of a
RWA in the UK, we're also hoping to use the yahoo group to organize some flesh and blood events at cons and booksignings next year, if we get
enough interest.)

 Name: Hmm... We'll go with... Kimmie
Age: Older than 16, younger than 24
Location: Canada
Favorite TV Show: Criminal Minds.... and Bones, and LOST
Other Shows Watched: Medium, BTVS
Favorite Quote: "Trust the one who has gone through it" - Seneca
Favorite Color: Green or blue, I can never decide
If I was a criminal, I'd be... caught in about a day. I have horrible luck at getting away with things.

but... it's all about the focus.

Originally published at Inarticulations. You can comment here or there.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: I have a terrible fear of failure.

When I was writing and trying to get an agent, sometimes the only way I could get over the fear was to tell myself that I wasn’t really trying to get an agent, that the only person who ever had to read my books was me. And that worked.

The problem is that now I can’t use that little trick. I’ve been booted into the realm of “hey, who cares if this sucks, no-one’s ever going to read it” to “O sweet lord if I fail, I fail publicly.”

It’s one of the things that’s made me most scared about tackling these revisions for BW - the idea that it’s not just about me any more, but about other people. People who are going to look at each other and wonder what the hell I was thinking when I believed I could write.

Today while I was working on the small stuff, I hit a chapter where even the small stuff was big stuff. A chapter that had to be rewritten - the point where the book left the story I had written originally and set off for new and interesting vistas. And I knew that I had to stop putting off the big revisons because of my fear of failure and just swoop that story down a new road and if it fell, it fell.

So we have wordage, we have a new plot thread snaking out. I can let a little of the fear go and close my eyes as I barrel down this unexplored path.

Wish me luck.

http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ICanHasCheezburger/~3/290066814/

http://icanhascheezburger.com/?p=50804

If we haven't linked to your post, it's because there wasn't enough information in the header for us to spot it or make a link. Particularly for fanfiction, we need a title and pairing at least. Anything else is a bonus – spoilers and ratings especially. Please leave a comment if you think we should have linked to something, and we'll add it or pick it up for the next newsletter. However, the newsletters will not be edited to include any changes to your post that happen more than a week after we've posted the newsletter.


Off-LJ Links

The Criminal Minds Fanatic Blog always has something awesome you should take a look at.


Discussion and Miscellany

shaych_03 reviews 3x18 'The Crossing' here [spoilers up to and including 3x18]

slash_girl has info on Canadian airings of the film "I'm Reed Fish" with AJ Cook.

dajones24 has a spoiler and some speculation here [spoilers for 3x19 'Tabula Rasa' and upcoming episodes]

buffyaddict13 has a link to a new article on Matthew Gray Gubler


Fanfiction

Het

Good Friends and Meaningless Flings by leilanni_l [FRT-13; JJ/Emily, JJ/William, Morgan/Lopez, Morgan/Emily friendship; spoilers for 3x17 'In Heat' and 3x18 'The Crossing']

Speechless by little_profiler [K; Morgan/Garcia]

Of Drugs and Dance Floors 1/3 and 2/3 by lady_of_scarlet [FRM, FRAO for whole story; JJ/Reid, implied Hotch/Prentiss]

Need by scoob2222 [FRAO; Morgan/Garcia; post-ep for 2x03 'The Perfect Storm']

Any Time by scoob2222 [FRM; Morgan/Garcia]

The Wives of David Rossi 1/3 by vanillafluffy [FRC; Rossi/OFC; slight spoiler for 3x18 'The Crossing']


Femmeslash

Good Friends and Meaningless Flings by leilanni_l [FRT-13; JJ/Emily, JJ/William, Morgan/Lopez, Morgan/Emily friendship; spoilers for 3x17 'In Heat' and 3x18 'The Crossing']

Pure and Simple by serenitymeimei [FRAO; JJ/Prentiss; spoilers for 3x18 'The Crossing']

It Only Hurts When I Breathe by darandkenny [no rating provided by author; JJ/Prentiss unrequited; post-ep for 3x17 'In Heat']

Who Will Sing Me Lullabies by leilanni_l [FRC; JJ/Prentiss]


Slash

Break Away by lucylooo [FRAO; Ethan/Reid; post-ep for 2x18 'Jones', non-specific references to season 3 events]

Tactile obsession by nyxreaper [FRAO; Morgan/Reid]

Helping Hand by lexin_m_west [FRAO; Hotch/Reid]


Fanart

Animations by sunshinefun27 [slight spoilers for 1x18 'Somebody's Watching']


Icons, Vids and Screencaps

13 misc. CM icons by glance18

10 misc. CM icons by heatherbird

2387 screencaps of 3x18 'The Crossing' by slash_girl


Drop us a comment or email on bau.inbox@gmail.com with any problems.

http://www.cartoonlabs.com/comics/index.php?date=2008-05-14&show=sinfest

Sinfest
Tatsuya Ishida

sparkly and a vampire"

Three -- no, four -- people made sure I saw this. Heh.

OBAMA IS A VAMPIRE OMG.

HEY do all you happening hepcats want to hear my Twilight "outtakes," i.e. snarkage notes that I forgot to put in the posts as I was writing them because MY NEURONS WERE FRYING? OH SURE YOU DO.

WHAT. YES. YES YOU DO.

But first, some local colour!

I vividly remembered the flat black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me – the color was striking against the background of his pale skin and his auburn hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone.

He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.

He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching.

I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.

I looked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of his gold-colored eyes.

The gold in his eyes blazed. "Please, Bella."

I watched as his golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day.

I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.

(REASSEMBLE TANGLES WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT)

I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes. I nodded helplessly.

I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more – small things that registered slowly – how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way he sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing.

WOW, BELLA SURE PICKED UP SOME OBSERVATIONAL COP HABITS FROM HER FA --
OH WAIT
THAT'S THE COP DAD WHO CAN'T TELL A VAMPIRE SNEAKS INTO HIS DAUGHTER'S BEDROOM NIGHT AFTER NIGHT TO _WATCH_HER_AS_SHE_SLEEPS_
FOR MONTHS
NEVERMIND
I GUESS BELLA GOT HER INTUITIVE ACUMEN AND KEEN SCRUTINY ELSEWHERE

"You should be – a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." He seemed unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how light his eyes were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.
"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again. That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed.

(FURROWED
ALABASTER
WHA)

He turned to look at me with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at him until he looked away.

"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" he murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.

P 135, FOLKS
OUT OF 327
I READ THIS SO YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO
YOU.OWE.ME.

Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across from me, his golden eyes troubled.

"Sorry," he murmured. I looked up in time to see his golden eyes close again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."

His angel's face was only a few inches from mine. I might have – should have – flinched away from his unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes mesmerized me.

He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his bitter memories. His golden eyes scorched from under his lashes, hypnotic and deadly.

From the cheerful topic of my impending demise, we were suddenly declaring ourselves. He waited, and even though I looked down to study our hands between us, I knew his golden eyes were on me.

YES
SHE SAYS
'DECLARING OURSELVES'
AND YET POOR (EW) EDWARD IS THE ONE WHO GETS SLAMMED FOR THE UNFAMILIAR CADENCES AND PHRASES THAT BETTER FIT THE STYLE OF A TURN-OF-THE-CENTURY NOVEL THAN THAT OF A TWENTY-FIRST-CENTURY CLASSROOM
GOD, BELLA, YOU SUCK (HA HA) AND I HOPE THE FLAME-HAIRED VIXEN VAMPIRESS, VICTORIA, WHO'S BEEN TRACKING YOU KILLS AND EATS YOU AT THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK, AND THEN SHOVES EDWARD INTO A NUCLEAR POWER COOLER. NOW THAT WOULD BE DAZZLING

BUT I DOUBT IT.

His gold eyes grew very soft. "You said you loved me."

But I examined his gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was.

Their eyes were different, too. Not the gold or black I had come to expect, but a deep burgundy color that was disturbing and sinister.

OHHH YES
COME NOW DON'T TRY TO STRUGGLE
BURGANDY
YES
REMEMBER HOW HANNIBAL LECTER HAS MAROON EYES? THIS IS TOTALLY NOT LIKE THAT ALL. BECAUSE THESE. ARE BURGANDY!
UM BURGANDY EYE COLOUR IS CAUSED WHEN VAMPIRES SUCK HUMAN BLOOD, I THINK, I DON'T REALLY CARE
AND NEITHER DO YOU

The smell of his breath was soothing. It seemed to ease the ache of my breathing. He continued to hold my gaze while my body slowly relaxed and the beeping returned to a normal pace. His eyes were dark, closer to black than gold today.

"Bella." He turned the full force of his scorching golden eyes on me.

When I looked up again, his eyes were open, watching me. Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. His quick smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips.

AS OPPOSED TO A SMILE WHICH TURNS THEM DOWN, I GUESS

"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?" His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.

I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

BUTTERSCOTCH, HONEY....I'M GETTING HUNGRY. MMMM NUTELLA. HEY I KNOW, IN _MY_ MARY SUE VAMPIRE PROBADFIC, THE VAMPIRES WILL HAVE NUTELLA-COLOURED EYES! I'LL MAKE MILLIONS

WHAT

MILLIONS I TELL YOU

"BUT WHAT, MOI," I CAN HEAR YOU ALL ASKING IN FRUSTRATED DESPAIR, "DOES _BELLA_ LOOK LIKE?"

GLAD YOU ASKED!

I left out a detailed description of Bella in the book so that the reader could more easily step into her shoes. However, so many people have asked this question, I have decided to tell you what she looks like to me. But I want to stress, Bella's looks are open to interpretation.
In my head, Bella is very fair-skinned, with long, straight, dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. Her face is heart-shaped—a wide forehead with a widow's peak, large, wide-spaced eyes, prominent cheekbones, and then a thin nose and a narrow jaw with a pointed chin. Her lips are a little out of proportion, a bit too full for her jaw line. Her eyebrows are darker than her hair and more straight than they are arched. She's five foot four inches tall, slender but not at all muscular, and weighs about 115 pounds. She has stubby fingernails because she has a nervous habit of biting them. And there's your very detailed description.

SO WHEN SHE REFERS TO HERSELF AS "ME, THE ALBINO," UM. YEAH. NOT, UM. YEAH.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino.

"You don't look very tan."
"My mother is part albino."
He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

(OH FUCK YOU. I LOVE CLOUDS AND LIVE IN THE PNW AND MY SARCASM COULD POWER DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA, FOR A YEAR.)

Hey! How about some marmoreal non-colour to go along with the fake albinism?

His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes.

"Are you all right?" he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place his marble hand back in mine.

"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," he murmured. He gently freed his other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly he brushed my cheek, then held my face between his marble hands.

And then his cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.
What neither of us was prepared for was my response.

"Er, I'm not sure. What would you like?" His marble brow puckered.

MARBLE PUCKERING AND ALABASTER FURROWING? THE FUCK.

How quickly, how gracefully he would move through the crowds of people separating us. And then I would run to close those last few feet between us – reckless as always – and I would be in his marble arms, finally safe.

"Oh," he said, and his forehead smoothed back into marble.

HEY, GUESS WHAT COLOUR THE NATIVE AMERICAN NON-LOVE-INTEREST IS!
NO GO ON, GUESS! GUESS!
OH COME ON ONE LITTLE GUESS!
WRONG!
HE IS RUSSET!

Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face.

OH YEAH, HE HAS A DAD! GUESS WHAT COLOUR THE NATIVE AMERICAN'S NON-LOVE-INTEREST'S FATHER'S SKIN IS! GO ON! GUESS!
OH COME ON IT'S NO FUN IF YOU DON'T GUESS!
'OH MY FUCKING GOD' IS NOT A GUESS!
WRONG!
HE IS ALSO RUSSET!

In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face – a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Jacob's father, Billy Black.

Also:

the cheeks resting against his shoulders

EW

This blog article popped into my Google Alerts today: They should do all assistive
technology this way.

It's interesting because the photos of the girl's hands are remarkably
familiar, particularly the way she holds a pen without her ring splints.
I've always been used to my hands aching after writing for a while and
nearly seizing up when doing exams, but it hadn't occurred to me until
recently that my entire writing grip is odd. Holding a pen steady when your
fingers bend backwards under any pressure is not easy unless you hold the
pen ridiculously tightly.

Over the past couple of years, I've taken to using a fountain pen when doing
any extended writing. It's impossible to press hard on the page without
bending the nib badly and that seems to be educating me to use a slightly
better grip, but it's not perfect. I don't think that I'm going down the
ring splint route, but looking at the way my fingers bend on the pen does
start to make sense of my illegible handwriting and the stiffness that my
hands quickly aquire.

Unfortunately, I've noticed that my hands are doing the same where I knit.
I use the index finger on my left hand to steady the needles and it's either
bending backwards or locking into a semi-bent position most of the time,
which is making that finger a bit sorer than usual. Maybe I need to look
into doing something about that finger, even if it's just when I'm knitting?

Ah, the joys of having a wacky body!

http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/nothing/elfcosmetics.asp

We address the rumor that e.l.f. Cosmetics has been bought by a major department store chain.

I've been awake since four AM, because the house across the street is burning down.

Actually, at this point, I have to say, the house across the street was burning down, as the good offices of the West Hartford Fire Department have arrested this development in progress. (This is, yes, what I pay my taxes for.) And it doesn't appear, from the vantage of my front windows, that anyone was injured. However, it was pretty darn spectacular for a bit there, with flames through the third story and firefighters scrambling around chainsawing holes in the roof of a hundred-year-old three-family.

This is the house with the extremely annoying and loud deterrent system, which tends to announce BURGLARY! BURGLARY! BURGLARY! in stentorian tones every time a cat crosses the yard. Which is why I missed the first five minutes of fun, because I thought it was just the usual late-night loudness. But then I heard the sirens--we're just around the corner from the fire department--and realized I should probably get up and put my pants on and close the windows.

And comfort the cat, who does not like chainsaws.

And now I am trying to decide whether it would be more productive to go for a walk, go back to bed, or try to get some work done, since it appears the apocalypse has been averted for the time being. I think coffee, a hot shower, and work are winning, because while I am still sleepy I'm not actually all that tired, and the sun is coming up, and I think it would annoy the nice firefighters less if I didn't traipse through where they are trying to work today.

Also, there's that toe I'm supposed to be going easy on. And the cat says her feet are cold, and can I please sit down so she can put them on me?

As a reminder, if anybody in the Midwest wants to come see me, I will be at WisCon the weekend after this one coming up, and I will be the Guest of Honor at Duckon (Chicago) and Fourth Street Fantasy (Minneapolis) in the middle weeks of June. I am moved to mention this because Fourth Street has just moved their pre-reg deadline back to May 31. truepenny will be my date for both cons, so you can rely on the full magnificence of the Mole And Bear Show in all its questionable glory.

Fourth Street is looking suspiciously as though it will be an unofficial Shadow Unit convention, as the whole crew except stillsostrange will be there, and WisCon will have me, truepenny, and stillsostrange. (But no coffeeem or shetterly.)

Someday we will all be in the same place at the same time, and there may be a singularity.

If you can't tell, this is another long jag of sleeplessness. The horror of insomnia really only reaches a crest on the third night, since after that the world takes on a hue of unreality divorced from all but the most scorching event. The second night, where I'm at, is terrible in its own way and usually only bearable with doses of Mahler's Fourth.

Don't ask me why. Mahler just gets me through the rough patches. At least a particular part of the Fourth. I tried Beethoven's Ninth once on a second night and was almost done in.

I'm only partially joking.

The second night is when you think you might conceivably be able to sleep, and to have that chance snatched away is cruel, cruel. To endure hour after hour of the silent world, feeling your dry hot eyes protest at the work they're asked to perform, to think that if you just hold out another quarter-hour blessed slumber might result...it's an exquisitely awful torture devised by the makers of Tantalus.

I'm hoping I won't see the third night. Night 3 of an insomnia jag is terrible.

I did everything I was supposed to do--no caffeine after noon (though I desperately needed Motrin AND chocolate), a walk in the late-afternoon sun to convince my circadian, a small snack before bed to keep the tummy happy, deep breathing and a half-hour of quiet before retreating to bed.

No dice. Akhmatova summed up insomnia thus, in a translation now lost in a book I left behind in the trap of my first marriage:

Both sides of my pillow
are already hot

And I think that's a great, very poetic way to put it. Dammit. Exactly.

Both sides of the world are already hot. Time for some valerian tea. It might not knock me out but at least it will tranquilize me. I could probably try reading some Cussler from the Muffin's collection. If that prose doesn't send me into fits of somnolence, I don't know what will.

I'm kidding about the Cussler. Really. Some things even I won't do. I'll probably go back to Christopher Fry's The Dark Is Light Enough or Emer Martin's Breakfast in Babylon, both of which have kept me company until dawn several times. Under no circumstances will I touch Sylvia Plath, Janet Fitch's White Oleander, or Siegel's Like The Red Panda, which will almost certainly do me in if they get to me tonight.

See, that's part of insomnia too--at least for me. The prescriptive use of literature, along with wariness of the pitfalls. I once read Kerouac's description of Mexican junkies (wasn't it Tristessa? I think it was, should find that book) on a third night and wasn't Quite Right for a couple days even after I started sleeping again.

Anyway. Valerian tea and prescriptive literature. What do you read when you need comfort?

Featuring the original gruesome twosome: Nik Fiend and Mrs Fiend!
Buy your Ticket for the show Now Here!


Original Specimen lineup from 1983:Olli Wisdom, Jon Klein, Kevin Mills, Jonny Slut,Chris Bell
THE BATCAVE RETURNS!</h1>

THE BATCAVE is touring across the United States this summer -- This has not happened since 1983!

EARLY PRESALE for VIP Packages but hurry, these are extremely limited!

Buy your Ticket for the show Now Here!
Buy your Ticket for the show Now Here!

Featuring the original gruesome twosome: Nik Fiend and Mrs Fiend!
Buy your Ticket for the show Now Here!


Original Specimen lineup from 1983:Olli Wisdom, Jon Klein, Kevin Mills, Jonny Slut,Chris Bell
THE BATCAVE RETURNS!

THE BATCAVE is touring across the United States this summer -- This has not happened since 1983!

EARLY PRESALE for VIP Packages but hurry, these are extremely limited!

Buy your Ticket for the show Now Here!
Buy your Ticket for the show Now Here!

It appears that I left the cat flap unlocked last night. Are Bella and Arthur a bit stupbid (sic.) or what? To my knowledge they have spent all of last night tucked up in the house as if the outside world was closed off to them?!!

::steps up on soapbox::

*ahem*

ginmar IS A WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED HUMAN BEING WITH WHOM EVERYONE SHOULD BE FRIENDS.

thank you

http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/DilbertDailyStrip/~3/289981709/

http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2008-05-14/

• 13:44 DAMN YOU FIREFOX!!! Why do you hate me so? #
• 15:55 @seanpercival: perhaps they are a crappy company, but DSW has great shoes! #
• 18:12 @cognizance: awww. Your coworkers love you, too. #
• 18:52 heading home #

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Originally published at Inarticulations. You can comment here or there.

It’s been suggested that instead of just working my way straight down the list, I cycle through the different apps so that I don’t do post after post of word-processors. Good point.

Today I move onto reference tools, the first of which is JaLingo.

From their site: JaLingo is a free OS independent dictionary application.

It’s cross-platform, so that means Windows, Mac, and Linux.

Unfortunately for me, Synaptic Package Manager couldn’t find it, so I actually had to go look at the installation instructions (I’m very lazy, you see, this kind of thing saddens me)

The Windows file is 12Mb, and for Mac and Linux you have to dl and install Java 1.5.0_05 or later (18.8Mb) and then JaLingo (0.4Mb). Since you probably already have Java…

For all OS you have to then download the dictionaries you want. This is starting to feel like a lot of effort, I have to admit.

Their installation instructions didn’t work for me. I had to in the terminal, as root, go into the directory and run sudo java -jar jalingo-setup-0.6.0.jar (I’m running Ubuntu, so ignore me if you’re not)

Then I went to look at the lists of dictionaries to download. The first linked to a commercial dictionary, the rest of the links were pretty much useless to me. To be honest, I’m not overly impressed so far.

Ubuntu comes standard with a dictionary, so for me to go to all this effort in order to download a dictionary to buy, or search through a million and one hard-to-follow descriptions just seems pointless.

I’m betting there are simpler and better dictionary apps than this, so I’m giving up on them and saying

NOT RECOMMENDED

The most interesting voting tonight didn't happen in the Dem primary in W. Virginia (where Hillary, as expected, won in a landslide).  (I should note, in passing, that - though I'd like to see her gone, or at least her sniping at Obama gone - it's good, in a way, that Hillary's still in the race because it would have been embarrassing for Obama to lose to a candidate that's dropped out - what if Huckabee suddenly beat McCain in a contest?)

No, the most interesting race was a special election for the congressional seat in the first district of Mississippi.


Though it does have Oxford (which features Ole Miss, which Spacekatgal attended), it is one of the most conservative districts in the whole of the United States.  Democrat Travis Childers was running against Republican Greg Davis.  (The seat had been held by Roger WIcker, but he left it to take Trent Lott's old spot in the Senate. Wicker had held the seat since 1994, never receiving less than 63% in a re-election campaign.  Bush carried the district in both 2000 and 2004, with 59% and 62%, respectively.)

Importantly, the Republicans were tying the Democratic nominee, Childers, to Obama.  (In much the way the Dems will tie every Republican nominee this fall to Bush.)  Thus, in many ways, this contest was a test on how Democrats - including Obama - might do in conservative areas around the country.  Yes, there is widespread anxiety and anger about the war and the economy and sentiment to "throw out the bums," but that's balanced by, well, racism and Obama being falsely accused of being a Muslim.  (It's not a completely accurate test, though, because Childers is conservative for a Democrat - he's pro-life, for example, but it's the best test we have at this point.)

So what happened tonight?  The Democrat won, in this staunchly Republican stronghold.  54% to 46%.  Worst, this is the third seat (out of three contested) that the Republicans have lost this year in a special election.  The others were an Illinois seat formerly held by the Speaker of the House, Dennis Hastert, and a Louisiana seat the Republicans have held since 1974.

If I were a Republican thinking about my party's prospects for this fall, I'd be quaking in my boots

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

I mentioned a while ago I had some good news I couldn't yet share. Well, it's official now: I sold short story "Joy is the Serious Business of Heaven" to Realms of Fantasy (my third sale there).

This is my "bureaucracy in Heaven" story, which I originally wrote at Clarion West (2000). It was the best-received of the lot and I knew it wouldn't take very much to make it publishable. And indeed I didn't make a lot of changes to it... it just took me until 2006 to get around to them. And then it took two years and eight rejections before it finally sold. Just another overnight success.

This story is the bookend to "The Curse of Beazoel", my "bureaucracy in Hell" story, which appeared in the anthology All Hell Breaking Loose (2005). However, although "Beazoel" appeared first, "Joy" was written much earlier.

One last reminder for Portland folks: I have a Space Magic reading tomorrow (Wednesday May 14) at Powell's in Cedar Hills at 7pm. Hope to see you there! And if you aren't in Portland, after tomorrow you should be able to order a signed copy from powells.com. Or you can order an unsigned copy from wheatlandpress.com and get it in front of me somehow, and I'll be happy to sign it.

Whee!

( In here. )

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I know that I have been relatively silent lately. Many of you know why. However, never one to shirk my duties, I am announcing that today is the final day for entries for the current caption contest. We only have a very few entries, so let's show the old man some love and put some clever words into his mouth, so to speak.

( Here is the pic to be captioned )

Have fun!

...marking is done!

Well, except for the backtracking and checking and altering comments on the early pieces, of course, but that can happen tomorrow.

And all of this, of course, is just in time to leave me free to mark my own students' first big assignment, which they have to submit on Monday.

My hand hates me.

• 09:17 Thinking there's another attempt at moving IJ going on. Ah, spinning beach ball, how I love thee. #
• 11:27 Leaf blower, leaf blower, good thing I don't have a gun. #
• 13:07 Enjoying the afterburn from a Texas Schlotzky's. Mmmm jalapeño. #
• 13:43 12 bumper stickers is too many. #
• 14:06 Unsurprisingly, I scored 95% on the New Wave 80s music quiz. The scary part is how many of the songs in the quiz I owned. #

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I mentioned to X a while ago that after an election campaign, particularly an on-the-day operation, I dream about campaigning. He looked horrified, but it's true. Even after Sittingbourne, I dreamed about knocking up. After Bromley, I dreamed about campaigning for a solid week. At the last General Election, I regularly dreamed, before and after, about endlessly delivering my own ward, and I had something similar at the last council elections.

Last night, I experienced a whole new wrinkle to this. I'm not going to Crewe (out of the country), and I doubt I'll make Henley (out of the country/President's Dinner). And yet, last night I dreamed about Dibley Central, and even populated it with the right people (most of whom I know by sight, even if they don't know me), and dreamed about going campaigning.

I. Am. Appalled.

May 13, 2008 Progress Notes:

Above

Words today: 1100.
Words total: 34,650 MS Word.
Reason for stopping: It's late! Agh!
Liquid Refreshment: Water.
Munchies: Two pears, two bananas, one mango. I did groceries today. *g*

Darling du Jour: The fire takes its mouth first. It don't struggle while the fire eats it up, head to tips of the fingers to toes, and gutters out on the busted tile floor. It don't scream either, and the stream of shadow fades, fire spreading in an arcing star through the room and then nothing, silence. A painting of black ash.

Words Matthew Won't Admit to Knowing: He didn't really balk at anything new tonight.
Mean Things: Evil asylum. Some backstory for one character that's...really, really bad if it's true.
Research Roundup: Diagnosing catatonia, androgynous baby names, forced gender reassignment surgery.
Books in progress: Jeffrey Ford, The Physiognomy, textbooks.
The glamour: Class, dishes, and groceries. Although we got to cap it off with a backrub.

---

Started the summer courses yesterday -- Topics in Shakespeare, the specific topic being treason, and The Short Story. So this is sort of Shakespeare Deathmarch 2008, only at about half-speed and less deathy since I read half these plays last summer. I did reread Richard II this afternoon in case. Couldn't hurt to be fresh, and I am reasonably confident that the workload here will not get so heavy that my brain will be taxed to the point of no writing. So we try to make it a more regular habit than once a week, I think. Right brain? Right.

Bed, now. There's Shakespeare to march on tomorrow.

In more cheery news!

I got Stretto today in the mail!

And the 2nd volume of Wiscon Chronicles. It looks great!

I'm going to edit Wiscon Chronicles vol 3. So if you are going to Wiscon, and get fired up about something, talk with me or email about contributing to the book! As usual, I will try to make everyone do everything on a wiki.

A Mind Meld in which various folk recommend
Young Adult SF/F Books That Adults Will Like, Too
--and reading my fellow commentators recommendations made me realize how many I missed.
Give a shout out for your own favorites.

I know, I know, it's not Monday anymore. Monday was eaten by office hours and student papers. Let us speak no more of it.

I've been enjoying reading Dove's earlier poems; the only book of hers I'd read before now was Thomas and Beulah, which I read relatively recently. I'm really glad I decided to focus on collected/selected volumes this year. (Next up: Audre Lorde, and then probably Jane Kenyon or June Jordan.)

But for now, a poem whose last four lines have been echoing in my head for days.

Primer for the Nuclear Age

At the edge of the mariner's
      map is written: "Beyond
      this point lie Monsters."

Someone left the light on
      in the pantry—there's
      a skull in there on the shelf

that talks. Blue eyes
      in the air, blue as
      an idiot's. Any fear, any

memory will do; and if you've
      got a heart at all, someday
      it will kill you.


– Rita Dove
from Museum
reprinted in Selected Poems

Everyone with a mac, hit apple-option-ctrl 8 ...


Now!

Reach of the Silence
New words: 800
Total wordcount: 50,156

Flute practice: *gasp gasp* Dead baby song takes a lot of air.

Prayer: Father, please be with J and his family, S and her family, and J and her family.

Ferret adventures: Oh poor Stewie. Oscar was trying to get onto a little shelf by my desk. There's nothing harmful on there, and he can usually get up there after a few tries, but I helped him up anyway. It isn't very high. And since Stewie was sitting by him, I thought he wanted to go up, too, and put him next to Oscar.

A bit later, I found Oscar across the room...and saw Stewie staring at the floor from the corner of my eye. He was leaned out over the edge, looking really nervous. Poor Stewie! He wanted to get down, but was too afraid to try. When I put my hand out for him, he crawled right on and proceeded to give me lots of kissies. "Please don't put me up there again, Mom. I'll be good!" Poor guy.

Kippy Adventures: She was meowing at something outside the window tonight, but she never said what.

--

Today was less good than yesterday. There was weirdness all over the internet, including random someone coming to bestow their wisdom upon me, regarding my flute playing powers. Which...I wasn't asking for critique; if I was, I would have mentioned it. *sigh* (And oddly enough, person who came to tell me about my airy tone and lack of emotion had no recordings of her own. Shocking.)

Better day tomorrow, I hope, but tonight! I made cookies. World is saved.

(Also, made it to 50k. 40k words more to go!)