May 16th, 2005

bear by san

Link salad, Monday morning edition

Sarah Weinman: "Here's some cheese to go with that whine." A sparkling discussion of the existence or lack thereof of the so-called 'community of writers" is going on over there.

juliansinger on the Peter Beagle audiobook version of The Last Unicorn, along with coda. Rollicking discussion of Beagle's work in the comments, with the audiobook's publisher piling on.

Beagle being the author of several of my favorite works, including The Last Unicorn, I See By My Outfit, and A Fine and Private Place (oh, the raven. heee!) I'm keeping my blinkin' mouf shut. Except to say that in my very humble opinion, the text either stands on its own, or it doesn't. And if it doesn't. no amount of arguing is going to do anything except convince the readers you're a twit.

I may disagree with a critic's reading of my work--sometimes at great length and with random vituperation, sometimes with a shrug and a sigh that the book I wanted to write was obviously not the book he wanted to read--but if I don't get it on the page, or I get it on the page so it doesn't reach a particular reader, that reader's reaction is still valid. (I will argue certain things, such as factual inaccuracies or careless reading. But usually not in public, unless it's forced on me.)

There are people whom I consider close friends who can't stand what I write. I do them the courtesy of not shoving my books in their faces, and I expect them to do me the courtesy of not telling me how much I suck.

But, yanno, it's my considered estimation that people talking in blog comments or Usenet news groups--unless they're speaking to me directly--should generally be left alone to shred or defend me as they see fit.

(I am talking about myself here, as a comment inspired by the argument in the thread, and not taking a passive-aggressive swipe at the thread's participants. FWIW.)

And as a counteragent to that particular maunder, a Doonesbury that redeemed my tattered faith in humanity for another day: Collapse )

tamnonlinear (really, does she have The Best Username, or what?) on Chronic Illness as A Second Job.

Yeah, that.

And because I know you've been waiting: Chili Finger Saga Update
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    NPR - Morning Edition
bear by san

I tell you I can't live in service

via stillsostrange: Herbert West, De-Animator. (Flash Game) Do not call up that which you cannot put down. And we mean, put down.

The shotgun, by the way, is a good way to get killed. Also, shoot 'em as they rise; don't wait for them to get to their feet.

"What we play is life." --Louis Armstrong

Progress notes for 16 May 2005:

Whiskey & Water

New Words: 1271
Total Words: 77,026/86,500
Pages: 346

Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
86,500 / 160,000
Reason for stopping: time for yoga and work, end of scene
Mammalian Assistance: I didn't finish the hummus I had for a midmorning snack (I ran out of carrot sticks) so, in the interests of fairness, I gave Paladin the bowl to lick, and offered Signy a bite or two stuck on my fingers.She's a very dainty eater, and I got sort of bored standing there waiting for her to lick it off one tiny tonguetip at a time.

So I stuck it on her nose.

You have never seen such a dirty look.

Stimulants: Good Earth sweet & spicy herb and tea blend
Exercise: weights, gothercise, yoga
Mail: nomail
Today's words Word don't know: ficus, tendriled, purpleheart, Tchaikovsky
Tyop du jour: broad expanses visible between the conversational gropings,
Darling du jour: n/a
Books in progress, but not at all quickly: Neal Stephenson, Quicksilver; various things I'm critting in draft.
Interesting research tidbits of the day: Oriental Carpets. And, now that's a Ficus.
Other writing-related work: n/a
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    Clash - Rudie Can't Fail / Hedningarna - Cold wind
bear by san

It's a pig's life

Alannis Morissette may not have nailed down a definition of irony, but Las Vegas is always handy with an example.

Sunday was the city's Centennial. (It shares a birthday with my mom, though she's considerably younger.) As part of the celebration, volunteers constructed a one hundred thirty thousand pound yellow birthday cake.

Which predictably, did not all get eaten.

The leftovers have been donated to R.C. Farms, the local pig farm. And are being transported with backhoes and dumptrucks.

KVBC doesn't appear to have the video up on the web yet, but rest assured, it's spectacular.

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    nauseated nauseated