July 25th, 2009

muppetology floyd pepper groovy

if we got married, would that be cool?

I'll be one of many (including the estimable frankwu and his amazing hair, and the estimable 2muchexposition and her amazing hair) warblogging Anticipation (that Worldcon thing up there in Montrealspace) for www.conreporter.com

My portion of these august proceedings will most likely consist of lots of OMG I'm Late To A Panel!



Yes, I am awake.

No, I don't want to be. Come on, meat. We were supposed to be sleeping in today. Let's see if we can remedy that issue, shall we?
phil ochs troubador

honey take me through the night. it's all right.

So a month or so back, stwish (who happens to be my dad, and who also happens to be a luthier) send me an electric guitar he made from the wood of a bradford pear that netcurmudgeon's dad cut down due to structural unsoundness, which wood I then drove down to North Carolina in the bed of Eunice, the now-dead former little red truck that could.

I just slapped the shoulder strap that neutronjockey made for me on it and borrowed TBRE's boyfriend's amp so I could try it out.

I am still the world's shittiest guitar player***, and my finger-picking and broken-ass Bminor don't sound any better on an electric guitar than they do on either of the acoustics, but boy did I annoy the neighbors with "Brown-eyed Girl." (I have three strum patterns*, and that is one of them. Another is straight eights. I did say I sucked! I'm here to have fun, man. Not to impress anybody.)**

As is traditional, when launching new guitars, of course the first thing I played on it was "House of the Rising Sun." (I also did "City of New Orleans." Funny thing--the guitar has a deeper sound than my steel-string acoustic, and I find myself trying to sing in my alto range, which is much more limited than my extremely limited soprano range. Hurmity.)

That was fun. And now I have to go meet TBRE, The Jeff, and others to go fall off a mountain in Plainville. With my blistered fretting fingers. Yeah, this may not have been my brightest plan.

*And two and a half finger picking patterns. *g*

**Also, hand ANYBODY an electric guitar and they feel like Keith Fucking Richards, man. You just can't help yourself. The strut is encoded in the wood of the axe.

***I am not a musician, and the fact that I now own three guitars, a musical frog, a rattle, and a criminally neglected banjo does not make me one.
atc

and i'm free, free falling--

I am going to have one glory of a bruise on my shoulder.

The good news is, it's a bruise on my shoulder and not a bruise on my SKULL, because the Jeff had borrowed my helmet and I--

--I see I should start at the beginning.

So we went out the Ragged Mountain today, and the good news is, for the first time in my history of climbing there, I sent something.  It was a 5.7 on a big old slab, and The Jeff had to rappel down to set it (he is so very multitalented) and I am grateful, because hey! I have finally sent a damned route at Ragged! (The first time I ever climbed was at Ragged, and I fell off and hit a boulder. This has set the tone for my climbing there.))

But that's not how I hurt my shoulder. See, before that, we were under the slab, which is a giant chunk of rock that has slid off the cliff face forming a kind of a tent. And he had just climbed up a nasty wet route and through a chimney out ot the Wide Outside and the real cliff, and when I tried it, I utterly failed it. Like, teh suck, with suck sauce. But since we were functionally underground, I had loaned him my helmet, because he was belaying and I was climbing and if I knocked a rock on his head, I wanted it to bounce off instead of him collapsing in a heap. Because that would be even more bad for me than for him.

Anyway, I fell off the wall and swung and hit the underside of the slab. Fortunately, with my shoulder and not with my head. And with the flat back part of my shoulder, not with the important bits.

So now I have a big red spot and it's all squishy, and tomorrow, despite the ice I just put on it, I will have a big purple bruise.

But there were wild blueberries at the top of the cliff. So that was exciting.

I fucking hate climbing at Ragged.
comics invisibles king mob

(no subject)

Oh, and the thing that woke me up at 4:30 this morning was a weird-ass dream that involved my left hand spontaneously oozing lots and lots of blood. I could smell it, even, which is not really usual for dreams.

Stigmata, yo.