dnalounge update
DNA Lounge update, wherein the kiosks are on the chopping block.
- Music:The Trucks -- Why the?
There are reports emerging of widespread late blight in potatoes and tomatoes in the eastern USA. It has also never been recorded so early. Anyone hazard a guess as to what's behind that? We haven't had much blight so far this year locally - one benefit of long dry spells. My organic grower friends seem to be having a darned good crop of Royals for once. Much as I love eating spuds, I'm sticking to growing Oca and Jerusalem artichokes.
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/200
I know that this is going to be both the slowest and fastest month of my life, and I feel like I've just reached the top of the rollercoaster, except in this case it's not about the ride but about the destination.
A little under four weeks until I leave Michigan behind...gladly, and yet I still have a slog of a journey ahead of me that will include a side-trip to San Diego Comic Con, which I'm looking forward to, but which will also eat into my "sweet jeebus we have to pack" time.
So, you know, I'm in a weird push you-pull me state where I want tomorrow and the next day (and the next couple a days after those) to get here and be gone so I can start my life on the off world colonies, but on the other hand...the slog; it beckons.
I should be savoring these quite moments, and instead I'm eager to have them behind me and be starting over in a new state in an awesome place with my wife and a great friend instead of doing the slog.
And then...there are the moments like the ER tech who cried when she heard I was leaving, and the other who blessed me and said a lot of wonderful things about me (all true, I am fucking awesome), and all the people I'll honestly miss.
And then there's the rest of Michigan...which I won't really miss.
Crap, it's like someone opening the cage door only to tell you that you have to wait for a few days before running out into the sunshine. Oh, brave new world...hurry the hell up and get here.
They're also said to make excellent bait, should I ever wish to take up my short-lived fishing habit again, but that seems pretty cold-blooded: "Here, turn my kitchen and garden waste into compost. Thanks! Now I'm going to reward you by sticking a hook through your body and feeding you to a speckled trout!" Ah well; specks probably wouldn't hit them anyway, and ain't nuttin worth eatin but trout.
This was taken probably ten years ago. 1998. As the backset is the forest growth at the back of our old Redmond house, that we moved out of in 1999. But that is the banker's suit I still fit in now. *laughs* Though I have no idea where those sunglasses went. Hm...
( Read more... )
You can take my Bleeding Heart Liberal card if you like, but when I see a member of the armed forces, I like to take a moment and say "Thank you."
That is all.
braainnns (link courtesy
natalief)
We had a doozy of a day, with 40+ people coming for a pot luck with plenty of grilled corn and smoked ribs and John's Jerk chicken and lots of salads and desserts that everyone brought and loved. And then, in the midst of it a thunderstorm just poured down rain until the back patio was an inch deep in water, even though it was supposed to be draining through all the slats. Everyone was good about making themselves comfortable in the house, ending up everywhere... on the floor, in the dining room, and even some ended up on our front door stoop, under the overhang there, just talking.
It was great fun, though, and everyone enjoyed themselves.
The six quarts of hand-cranked vanilla ice cream ALL disappeared. THAT was impressive.
( Ice cream recipe, a bit more about today, and a bit about _Princep's_Fury_ by Jim Butcher with spoilers. )
- Mood:
relaxed
Happy birthday, America!
Here's what got pasted in instead (a comment I made to yesterday's Urban Fantasy post, but you should probably see it here, too):
* This 2008 Library Journal article by Nanette Wargo Donohue - footnoted in the Wiki "Urban Fantasy" listing - is spot on. Poor L. Miller's got no excuse!( Read more... )
Hartford Courant Reverses Redesign Based on Reader Feedback
"Taking cues from readers in a recent poll, The Hartford Courant has opted to return to a traditional, horizontal nameplate on their front page. The oldest continuously published paper in the U.S., The Courant is reversing its move to a vertical nameplate in a redesign launched last September."
( Continued... )
This is a prompt to share your favourite redesign horror stories.
MinnPost Experiments with Real-time Ads
Joel Kramer, MinnPost.com founder, explained the project in an announcement, saying:
"Imagine a restaurant that can post its daily lunch special in the morning and then its dinner special in the afternoon. Or a sports team that can keep you up-to-date on its games and other team news. Or a store that could offer a coupon good only for today. Or a performance venue that can let you know whether tickets are available for tonight. Or a publisher or blogger who gives you his or her latest headline."
( Continued... )
This could be good, yes? However, isn't this what Twitter is already doing?
But every time that steak hits the grill or the fire lights the sky, a grin tugs the corners of my mouth, and I begin to applaud, and I realize the last of my childhood has yet to leak out of me.
As long as I have wonder, I shall last.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzGIpDFv

- Location:Sisyphi Montes
- Mood:
fireworks make me jumpy - Music:Big Bada Boom
I got to have dinner with The Amazing Mris and her Merry Band, and she cooked, and I discovered that one can make something with paprika and saffron and it is very, very good. I had never even thought of combining paprika and saffron.
Yum.
Originally published at Words Words Words. Please leave any comments there.
(ED: Of course, I mean Hal Jordan.)
Poll #1425159 Battle of the Green
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All
Green Arrow or Green Lantern?
Green Arrow![]()
![]()
5 (25.0%)
Green Goblin![]()
![]()
0 (0.0%)
Green Hornet![]()
![]()
1 (5.0%)
Green Lantern![]()
![]()
4 (20.0%)
Green Mask![]()
![]()
0 (0.0%)
Green Sparrow![]()
![]()
0 (0.0%)
Green Thumb![]()
![]()
2 (10.0%)
Green Torpedo![]()
![]()
0 (0.0%)
Seth Green![]()
![]()
8 (40.0%)
Does the word "Green" look strange to you now?

I had a dream the other night. I wasn't in it, but it was like I was observing it. The scene was an old age home. The patients were gathered in a room, sitting on folding chairs. There was a younger man with a beard, sitting at the front of the room on a stool. He started strumming an acoustic guitar and singing Neil Young's song, "Tell Me Why." The old timers sang along.
Sailing heart-ships
thru broken harbors
Out on the waves in the night
Still the searcher
must ride the dark horse
Racing alone in his fright.
Tell me why, tell me why
When I woke up, I thought about the dream and wondered what the music in old age homes would be like in another twenty years when I'm no longer just observing. I pictured a crowd of old farts, leaning this way and that, some asleep, some hooked up to oxygen, some whispering to themselves, and half of them half crazy. Up in front there will be a middle aged woman at the piano, playing a wobbly, slowed down, "Black Magic Woman," striking every note as if with a hammer.
I told Lynn what I was thinking and said, "Imagine 'Layla.'"
She said, "They'll be playing screwed up air guitar."
Other performances I'll probably pay good money to see:
"In-A-Gadda-Da-Vita" performed on the accordion.
A barbershop quartet of guys with wigs, bad chompers, and cardigans doing "Ramblin Man."
They're already probably doing this one -- "A Walk On the Wild Side." I perceive it as a piece performed by a middle school chorus.
"Beast of Burden" with group hand clapping.
If we're lucky, they'll save "Us and Them" for when they hand out the meds.
Everybody had to pay and pay

just something ive been trying to get out of my head...
not perfect but its something.
whats you all think?
Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind. "Mankind." That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom... Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!
In these days where despite our seeming successes at the ballot box we seem to be semi-permanently less free than we were at the turn of the century, perhaps it may well be time to simply remember that the Cascades are high and the Emperor, whatever color or party he may be, is far away... that all politics, ultimately, are local, and to simply concentrate on seeing to it that we here in this little corner of the world live as freely as we can, faraway kings and armies be damned, and to foster that idea wherever it will take root... building islands of freedom until the islands can be connected by bridges and ultimately by land mass...
Freedom for me is about going where I want when I want how I want, and the converse personal responsibility that I alone am *ultimately* responsible for my personal safety.... and also about being with whom I want to be with, and the converse personal responsibility to maintain those relationships how I and those with whom I maintain them see fit, to communicate, sometimes to lead and sometimes to be content to follow. This past year has been all about that - learning to live by myself, without four-wheeled conveyance, learning the sheer joy of zen with motorcycles and the satisfaction of taking care of your own wheels. It's been about making friends, and also about being independent... about learning who I am and where I *want* to be in the world... and carving out that niche and making it my own.
May you find your own Independence... and your own community. It's a very American thing to do.
Now, let's go blow stuff up! :)
- Location:House Azul
- Mood:hopeful
- Music:Imperial March - Williams
All, that is, apart from F, who came to sit beside me and, noticing how my attention wasn't on him 100%, put a white-socked paw on my chest and told me, "Meow." I tried scritching him, but even petting him with one hand while looking at the screen wasn't enough for him, eliciting more polite paws and determined "Meows."
He's so lovely. If I hadn't had to meet Alex, I would have stayed far more than my contractual hour.
Anyway, then I met Alex at Notting Hill, we had a good lunch at Pain Quotidien, walked through Portobello where I took a lot of lousy photos with the wrong setting, then caught a bus home.
I am still suffering with a damn cold and my throat still hurts, but a lot less than it used to. Last night I managed to sleep fairly well by falling asleep in front of the Tv on the sofa, let's see how it goes tonight.
"All have won, and all muist have prizes," as (I think) the Dodo proclaims after the Caucus Race. Very clever, all of you. This is the best I could come up with:
And let their pretty passions rise
Originally published at Cheryl's Mewsings. Please leave any comments there.
It has been a long day at the conference, and I have followed that with a couple of hours updating the Westercon 64 web site, as we (SFSFC) have won the bid and now have a convention to run. I am particularly pleased with us having Patricia McKillip as a Guest of Honor.
But I should be reporting on the panels. There were several, but basically only two overall themes. The first is that Diana’s books are very much concerned with how families treat children. In her life Diana has seen a significant change in this, from the Victorian system in which children were often kept in the dark, or fed a pack of lies, “for their own good”, to the modern practice in which we attempt to have a much more open and honest relationship with our children. Diana appears to prefer the latter approach, but fills her books with adults who treat children rather poorly at times.
The other major theme has been one of complexity, metafictionality and the like. Diana’s books are seldom what they appear at first sight, and generally reveal many levels of complexity and disguise as you read them. There is a definite project in evidence - Diana wants her readers to think for themselves, and ultimately take responsibility for themselves. This does make her books a more difficult read that those of other YA authors, but they are also more rewarding. And, as Sharyn November noted this evening, if you meet someone who loves Diana Wynne Jones books then that person will almost certainly be a very interesting person to talk to.
I also managed to bag a quick video interview with Andy Sawyer on the subject of the new John Wyndham novel published by Liverpool University Press. Why a book about Nazi clones, written by one of Britain’s best-loved SF writers, is having to be published by a small university press is beyond me. Someone should make an offer to do a mass market version.
I’ll try to write more about individual papers when I do the final con report. Right now I need sleep.
The plot is, by sf standards, basic. Sam Bell is the only human resident of a moon-based automated mining station. He's only a couple of weeks from the end of his three year contract, when there's an accident. And then . . . well, anything more would be a spoiler.
Thanks to a smart script by Nathan Parker (especially noteworthy these days for having the courage to leave some things up to the viewer to figure out), solid direction by Duncan Jones, and a truly outstanding performance by Sam Rockwell, Moon succeeds almost completely. Does the science work? I honestly don't know enough to say for sure, but I was able to suspend disbelief while watching. There are a couple of fairly minor questions that remain unanswered. But overall, I recommend searching it out.
P.S. You may (or may not) have noticed that LoudTwitter seems to have died and so my Twitter tweets (and everyone else's) are not getting posted to LJ.
As I am posting more to Twitter than LJ these days this means that, unless you check my Twitter page occasionally, you may miss out on the goings on of my life. No biggie unless you are interested in how I am or what I am doing!!

- Location:Horsham, UK
- Mood:
impressed
My reply/comment:
I too am Uncle Billy, although we all become him to one extent or another as we age. I, however, was Uncle Billy at age 30. My descent into Uncle Billy -ness began at age 18 or so. Yay MonSter! Then again, I do not remember ever seeing the film and so I can only base my definition UB-ness on this article. I may have seen the film but I do not remember doing so. This UB-ness does come in useful when watching reruns on the TV though - I can never remember what happens even if I have only just watched it - reruns are never boring to me because the plot often seems totally new to me (although I sometimes get a flash of recognition)! I am 42 in August and used to be a computer programmer but my brain may was well be that of a 99 year old with Alzheimer's on my bad days.
- Location:Horsham, UK
- Mood:
contemplative
I have decided not to take heed of my critics' uncomprehending words ("That was my sponge! And what the hell happened to this loo roll??") , or their pathetic failure to understand my genius. Clearly post modernism is beyond them, but I am an Artist, and must endure.
Lily
I am really tempted by this - anyone fancy?
Sometimes I do love being British. Tonight at the very monent the Music in the Gardens concert commenced, the heavens opened. The British did not squawk, panic or mutter. They opened umbrellas, crawled into lurid rainproof gear, repacked picnics and settled down to listen to the music. I picked up my rug, wrapped it around me and someone lent me an umbrella. I was very proud, especially as I was there with a crowd of Germans and Indians! I took white and pink fizz, strawberries, cherry tomatoes, chicken, brie and baguettes and Kiplings French Fancies to illustrate the British picnic, and that all went down well :)
The concert was splendid with lots of my pop favourites - Borodin's dances, Peer Gynt and a rousing encore of both de Souza for 4th July and Rule Britannia. It made me really want to go to the proms sometimes.
Kalapana, Hawaii
June 2009
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/features/to
My opinion, for what it's worth, is that the third is the best and they're all OK.
Next week five nights of the TV show, all that they're airing this year. I have to be out on three evenings, I just hope that my PVR works properly...
Later:
Since posting this I've been told that this link doesn't work outside the UK. Overseas listeners should be able to find them via the BBC iPlayer site for the next couple of days.
There are also apparently somewhat less legit torrents, and they've been posted to alt.binaries.sounds.radio.bbc
Who the hell is this guy?
Archer did an impressive set and turned out to be a very nice person: she made a point of coming over and speaking to Lily, who now Wuvs her. I must look out more of her work.
Lego Cantina Band.
Kalapana, Hawaii
June 2009
As I keep saying to anyone who will listen: "This is not hard to research! It only happened 20 years ago! We're not dead! Just ASK!"
I'm now particularly interested, in an OED geeky way, in the first recorded use of the term "urban fantasy", which
Russell Blackford at 5:37am June 23
I co-edited an anthology called Urban Fantasies back in 1985. The expression "urban fantasy" was in use well before then. I picked it up from Lee Harding, and it was applied during the early 80s to books such as Harding's _Displaced Person_ (known as _Misplaced Persons_ in the US), which was published in 1979. I'd be confident that it goes back even further. Mind you, what is now known as "urban fantasy" may be rather different, but still ...
Oh yeah and I licensed several pictures to the latest round of purchasing for the Washington Tourism Board. You can see them in this lovely slideshow:
What can I say? I'm pleased, I'm proud, I'm thrilled that most of these are being licensed again and... yeah. It also pays a pretty penny, which doesn't hurt. I'm thinking about investing in a new lens so I can go do something completely different. Something macro or something long zoom... something that doesn't involve dark clubs and close spaces.
And now... to zone for a bit. I seem to have plans this afternoon. Darn!
- Mood:
accomplished
Bill drove us to Mansfield (flatter and fewer cobbles for her wheelchair) and we Did Shopping.
Helped by the sweet lass in Bon Mache giving Mum a 40% off voucher, she bought many summer clothes.
I bought two jackets, black and blue, from Anne Harvey, reduced from £65 each to £15. Blue one is viscose and black a linen/cotton mix, reserved enough for work, casual enough to make me happy.
We stopped for coffee.
We are, I should point out, in a coffee shop in the middle of a city.
So in comes a dragonfly.
From where, I know not, no ponds or gardens for miles.
And then the screaming starts, staff and patrons act as though a rat had just come in. It's a dragonfly, for heavens sake, what's it going to do? Mug them?
So, armed with a large glass (glass is so I don't damage it) I attempted a rescue, this involved climbing over chairs and in the window.
Except the buggering thing had a wing span greater than the pint glass.
Got it in, sideways, eventually, released outside, probably to a sad end.
If I'd had some way to carry it, I'd have released it where it had a small chance of surviving, such as Bill's pond. But I was pushing a wheelchair, laden with bags and a Dorothy.
Oh well, at least it had a small chance.
I couldn't believe how hysterical the coffee shop staff were. Yes, it was a large dragonfly, but they are harmless, beautiful things. Highly unusual to see one in such an urban setting but for heavens sake, it was a dragonfly!
FF
words since last report: 1875
word total: 2455
word goal Still 5-7k, looking pretty good.
tyop du jour: n/a
darling: n/a
mean things: A lecture on Wordsworth first thing in the morning.
quirks: This werewolf, who still looks not unlike Claudia Black, wears t-shirts that say things like MY DOGMA ATE YOUR KARMA.
reason for stopping: Like I said, doldrums. Also, I think it's time to take a cool bath.
exercise: Walkies!
work outside the box: Provender provided.
feline assistance: None, although
Back when I used to lurk at SFRA meetings--this is way back--one of the Hot Names was Darko Suvin. His tastes and his approach to the genre intersected rarely with mine, so my interest was confined mainly to trying to figure out why Suvin's thought seemed so insightful to many. In the essay linked above,
Estrangement is not confined to worldbuilding, or paradigm clashes. Nor is it confined to the old fist-in-the-air-fervid "what the future will be like Progress continues . . ." or the dark and threatening "what the future will be like if X continues." There's personal estrangement, familial, kinship, cultural, and emotional. There's estrangement from one's own childhood, from one's own body caused by catastrophic illness. You can look at Kafka's Metamorphosis as literal, which gives you a spectrum of estrangements, or metaphorical, which changes everything. Or does it?
For me, this 'sport' phenom represents the tension between what is generally understood as mainstream fiction and what is generally understood as genre: Margaret Atwood can say that her sports are all organized teams that just happen to have elements of . . . [carefully avoiding any definition that might lead to spec fic] . . . to the extent that she labors hard to reinvent the rules of oddball 'sports' that the oddballs have grown up internalizing, which makes her work seem to be well-written retreading of familiar landscape. Whereas new genre writer X over here claims that her work is not the least bit sporty--not cliche and predictable like all that science fiction and fantasy that everyone else in genre is writing--but she's got this great idea about organizing her characters into these things called teams . . . and so she earnestly re-invents the rules of organized playing that others have grown up internalizing, having read Austen, Sterne, Meredith, Joyce, dos Passos, Rebecca West, and so her work seems stylishly written retreading of very familiar ground.
No real plans for the day, other than hoping for some mild schadenfreude when any assholes who set off illegal fireworks when we're trying to sleep blow their hands off. Not a fan of parties, of course, and 'song's not feeling all that well today. We're currently just taking it easy, catching up on recorded movies on the Tivo. Currently watching Renaissance, thus fulfilling our annual quota of French Neo-Noir Animated Black-and-White Sci-Fi .
Now I discover that there is another Democratic Unionist Party (referred to by its members as الحزب الإتحادي الديموقراطي) in Sudan, founded in 1967. I doubt very much that Ian Paisley and Desmond Boal were aware of it when they rebranded and slightly expanded the Protestant Unionist Party four years later, but I shall be on the lookout for parallels as I do my weekend reading of African history.
Good times.
And now it's just me, a sofa, a laptop, a cup of strawberry peppercorn tea, a Saturday, and forty student manuscripts.
Excelsior.
(348 miles to Isengard.)
- Mood:
working - Music:Emmylou Harris - The Pearl
My idea is, if I can get a few people together, we can taste various coffees made with various roasts (light to dark) made as espresso or cone-style drip. And everyone can walk away with some freshly roasted coffee.
(Or, if you have, you know, actual *seating* in your home, I could bring the coffee, and my Silvia if desired. "Fresh roasted" means "roasted 4-24 hours beforehand"; it takes a bit of rest for roasted coffee to reach peak flavor. Though I could bring the roasters along for people to roast some of their own if they'd like.)





