Several things I've realized so far into the office cleaning:
One: I am truly and honestly amazed at how much cat fur can collect in a bathroom that the two beasts never enter. One of the reasons why the Czarina and I achieved such steady marital bliss is by insisting that we have separate bathrooms, and not just because I get up a full four hours before she does during the workweek. My bathroom is now completely clean for the first time since we moved in five years ago: I kept the tub clean, but I'm talking about cleaning off the dust on the plumbing behind the toilet and the like. In the process, although Tramplemaine and Leiber never enter the bathroom except while I'm in the shower, and then only to let me know that their food bowls are empty, there's suddenly an inordinate amount of cat fur that came off fixtures, cupboards, mirrors, and any other surface. Between them and the Czarina, you do NOT want to see the bolus of hair that I just had to pull out of the bathtub drain.
Two: I have a newfound respect for the construction of our current abode. It's a matter of realizing that a truly impressive amount of my income over the last six years has gone into my library, and the Czarina and I now both have libraries that are fully twice the size they were when we first married. (Mind you, we're talking about before I sold all of my old writing reference books, so that's another reason to be impressed. At the rate things are going, I'll have a horticultural library in 2012 that generates its own event horizon.
Three: for all of the grief![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
taphophile gives me about the "crapalanche" in the office, most of this consists of stacked books. I don't need more bookshelves. What I need is a large and otherwise unused living room space that the Czarina and I can turn into a dedicated library. Something this size, for instance.
Four: I have until Sunday to get everything in order, as well as pack up unneeded books for the move next year. I just might be able to pull this off. The operative word is "might", and I'm very glad that we haven't had to go through this routine more than every five years or so. I don't even want to contemplate the horror of having to do this every year. And so it goes.
Anyway, back to the linen mines until tomorrow. Lunch break is over, and it's time to get back to work.
One: I am truly and honestly amazed at how much cat fur can collect in a bathroom that the two beasts never enter. One of the reasons why the Czarina and I achieved such steady marital bliss is by insisting that we have separate bathrooms, and not just because I get up a full four hours before she does during the workweek. My bathroom is now completely clean for the first time since we moved in five years ago: I kept the tub clean, but I'm talking about cleaning off the dust on the plumbing behind the toilet and the like. In the process, although Tramplemaine and Leiber never enter the bathroom except while I'm in the shower, and then only to let me know that their food bowls are empty, there's suddenly an inordinate amount of cat fur that came off fixtures, cupboards, mirrors, and any other surface. Between them and the Czarina, you do NOT want to see the bolus of hair that I just had to pull out of the bathtub drain.
Two: I have a newfound respect for the construction of our current abode. It's a matter of realizing that a truly impressive amount of my income over the last six years has gone into my library, and the Czarina and I now both have libraries that are fully twice the size they were when we first married. (Mind you, we're talking about before I sold all of my old writing reference books, so that's another reason to be impressed. At the rate things are going, I'll have a horticultural library in 2012 that generates its own event horizon.
Three: for all of the grief
taphophile gives me about the "crapalanche" in the office, most of this consists of stacked books. I don't need more bookshelves. What I need is a large and otherwise unused living room space that the Czarina and I can turn into a dedicated library. Something this size, for instance.Four: I have until Sunday to get everything in order, as well as pack up unneeded books for the move next year. I just might be able to pull this off. The operative word is "might", and I'm very glad that we haven't had to go through this routine more than every five years or so. I don't even want to contemplate the horror of having to do this every year. And so it goes.
Anyway, back to the linen mines until tomorrow. Lunch break is over, and it's time to get back to work.
Okay, maybe I've spent too much time in Dallas, where greedheads stroll in, demand obscene returns for vaguely profitable endeavors, never follow through on their side of the bargain, and then throw temper tantrums until the city covers all of the cost and they get to leave with all of the profit. (And yet "socialism" is such a dirty word here.) However, considering that Detroit has already been stripped to the bone from similar stunts, doesn't the otherwise laudable goal by John Hantz to turn Detroit into a high-tech farming hub make anybody else go "Uh oh..."?
Hoi An Bicycle
Originally uploaded by Little Ayun.
Hoi An is every bit the tourist trap I was warned about: High prices for everything, too many souvenir shops to count, and attractions that at times seemed entirely beside the point. But you know what? I loved every minute there. My first full day in Hoi An happened to coincide with the tenth anniversary of its designation as a UNESCO World Heritage site, so all of the paid houses and assembly halls were free and open to the public so I spent the whole day methodically working my way down each street in the old town, wandering through creaky buildings and exuberantly-decorated courtyards. Though the town is in perpetual restoration, it's also perpetually collapsing, and constantly damaged by annual storms (a direct typhoon hit this year, about two months before my visit) that's business as usual and sees boats shuttling people down flooded streets.
So everything is all crumbling flaking walls next to freshly-painted glossy black wooden facades, lanterns in the entryway of every building, car-free streets (walkers and "primitive vehicles" only!) and these tasty chili sauce-topped miniature wonton-looking things in the market next to the river. Also a French-style bakery with really really good chocolate croissants served warm, my first brush with bootleg DVD shopping (a dangerous new hobby) and a tailor recommended by a local friend where I had a bunch of clothes made super-fast and super-cheap (ditto).
The best moment of my stay there was when I poked my head into a no-name temple at the very far end of one of the old town streets and found an incense workshop where a woman worked a foot pedal-operated machine to coat sticks with perfume paste with that I-have-been-doing-this-a-long-time-and-k
What kind of day has it been:
22:27 Your mission, should you choose to accept it... #
Automatically stabbed through your living brain by LoudTwitterThe problem isn't that Luke sees dead people. The problem is that dead people see Luke.
CAST A COLD EYE BOOK RELEASE PARTY
w/William Shunn
Friday, January 8, 2010
7:00 to 9:00 pm
Time and Again
1239 W. Cortland St.
Chicago, IL 60614
site | map
Come out to Time and Again in Chicago to celebrate the hardcover release of Derryl Murphy & William Shunn's new novella Cast a Cold Eye! Mingle with fellow book lovers, browse unique treasures from the era of the story in an elegant setting, and sit back with a glass of wine while William Shunn reads chilling selections from the book. (Readings begin at 7:30 pm.)
Cast a Cold Eye is the story of Luke Bryant, a troubled Nebraska orphan who lost his parents in the Spanish flu, and his apprenticeship to itinerant spirit photographer Annabelle Tupper. Fright.com says it's "well written, solidly characterized and imaginative ... works largely because of its richness and unpredictability." And World Fantasy Award winner Charles de Lint urges in the book's introduction, "It's past time for you to discover its treasures for yourself."
This event is free. Copies of Cast a Cold Eye will be available for purchase for $20, along with a few $40 limited editions signed by Derryl Murphy, William Shunn, and Charles de Lint. Please bring a friend, please forward this email, and please RSVP to feedback AT shunn DOT net.
CAST A COLD EYE BOOK RELEASE PARTY
w/William Shunn
Friday, January 8, 2010
7:00 to 9:00 pm
Time and Again
1239 W. Cortland St.
Chicago, IL 60614
site | map
Come out to Time and Again in Chicago to celebrate the hardcover release of Derryl Murphy & William Shunn's new novella Cast a Cold Eye! Mingle with fellow book lovers, browse unique treasures from the era of the story in an elegant setting, and sit back with a glass of wine while William Shunn reads chilling selections from the book. (Readings begin at 7:30 pm.)
Cast a Cold Eye is the story of Luke Bryant, a troubled Nebraska orphan who lost his parents in the Spanish flu, and his apprenticeship to itinerant spirit photographer Annabelle Tupper. Fright.com says it's "well written, solidly characterized and imaginative ... works largely because of its richness and unpredictability." And World Fantasy Award winner Charles de Lint urges in the book's introduction, "It's past time for you to discover its treasures for yourself."
This event is free. Copies of Cast a Cold Eye will be available for purchase for $20, along with a few $40 limited editions signed by Derryl Murphy, William Shunn, and Charles de Lint. Please bring a friend, please forward this email, and please RSVP to feedback AT shunn DOT net.
Time and Again is a new, unique shop featuring something for everyone. Selections include fine Victorian antiques, vintage jewelry, clothing and collectibles, watercolor art and more, all housed in a funky, reclaimed space in the Clybourn Corridor.
The shop is located on Cortland Street, just west of Clybourn. Take the Brown Line to Armitage, or the Armitage bus (#73) to Cortland & Kingsbury.
- Location:Chicago, IL
- Music:Grover Washington Jr., "Passion Flower"
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
- Mood:lazy
- 11:00 Why is healthcare so expensive? RT @propublica via NYT: Health care lobby just spent $191m on campaigns bit.ly/4Dn4 #
- 12:00 @adricnet Any chance of forgetting about the rest of the movie? #
- 14:24 @kaigani Make a break for the Atlantic and swim for it. #
- 15:25 @mattstaggs What? They couldn't get Michael Bay to do it after all? www.theonion.com/content/news/michael_ba
y_signs_50m_deal_to_fuck # - 17:02 @Saraquse "Party in the Hofbräuhaus"? #
- 17:09 According to @thinkgeek, it's #TribbleTuesday. Remember, spay or neuter your ravenous Klingon-hatin' dust bunnies! #betchacanteatjustone #
- 17:31 @mattstaggs YouTubers are a kind of potato, right? #
- 18:02 @Saraquse That wasn't me. The coolest thing about a Krystal burger to me is that one will burn for half an hour if you light it. #
- 18:34 On Time-Warner? Ready to pay more so mouthbreathing neighbors can get their Glenn Beck? Vote here: rolloverorgettough.com/ #
- 23:41 Midnight, +32F. Lying on my back in the yard watching Orion stand on my house. Beats installing an alarm. Trouble stays away. #
Why is being prolific good for a visual artist and bad for a musician?
14 minutes ago from Echofon
( more behind the cut - if only you read my tweets, then you'd REALLY love me )
14 minutes ago from Echofon
( more behind the cut - if only you read my tweets, then you'd REALLY love me )
As of yesterday, the Czarina and I have been married for seven years, and we probably have at least another seven before the anomaly in my lung goes malignant and decides to apply for voting rights. In that time, I've learned two very important things:
Numero uno: If we'd had any idea we'd be having even more fun at Year Seven than when we first married, even we'd have called shenanigans. Working on three-quarters of a decade later, and people still assume we're newlyweds. (That became obvious yesterday, as we celebrated by going back to our actual wedding site at the former Dallas Museum of Natural History. You could hear the screams of "OWWWWW! My pancreas!" from Denver.) Even better, we both looked back over the last decade, with its aggravations and its horrors, and we both confirmed to the other that "even worse than 2003" was still a lot better than where we were a decade ago.
Numero two-o: Seven years later, and our favorite anniversary activity is still reading together. Of course, she didn't necessarily want me reading big excerpts from Ralph Steadman's The Joke's Over, but that was more than compensated by getting her a copy of Thomas Marent's Butterfly while we were wandering by the Texas Discovery Gardens. After spending a wonderful day in Dallas's Fair Park, it only made sense to stay up all night and get caught up on reading, and I'd honestly forgotten over the last year how much fun we had with a big stack of reading material and the time to enjoy it.
So here's to another decade of marital bliss. I'd argue for another half-century or more, but I don't want to jinx it.
Numero uno: If we'd had any idea we'd be having even more fun at Year Seven than when we first married, even we'd have called shenanigans. Working on three-quarters of a decade later, and people still assume we're newlyweds. (That became obvious yesterday, as we celebrated by going back to our actual wedding site at the former Dallas Museum of Natural History. You could hear the screams of "OWWWWW! My pancreas!" from Denver.) Even better, we both looked back over the last decade, with its aggravations and its horrors, and we both confirmed to the other that "even worse than 2003" was still a lot better than where we were a decade ago.
Numero two-o: Seven years later, and our favorite anniversary activity is still reading together. Of course, she didn't necessarily want me reading big excerpts from Ralph Steadman's The Joke's Over, but that was more than compensated by getting her a copy of Thomas Marent's Butterfly while we were wandering by the Texas Discovery Gardens. After spending a wonderful day in Dallas's Fair Park, it only made sense to stay up all night and get caught up on reading, and I'd honestly forgotten over the last year how much fun we had with a big stack of reading material and the time to enjoy it.
So here's to another decade of marital bliss. I'd argue for another half-century or more, but I don't want to jinx it.
2009 Reading #115: Love and Rockets No. 2: New Stories
Books 1-10.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
Books 61-70.
Books 71-80.
Books 81-90.
Books 91-100.
Books 101-110.
111. Slaves of Spiegel by Daniel Pinkwater.
112. Interfictions 2: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing, edited by Delia Sherman and Christopher Barzak.
113. The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death by Daniel Pinkwater.
114. His Eye Is on the Sparrow: An Autobiography by Ethel Waters (with Charles Samuels).
115. Love and Rockets, No. 2: New Stories by Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez. Second of the now-annual continuations of the hope-they-never-end stories of Maggie, Palomar, et al. Jaime's contribution is the conclusion of the Penny-Century-actually-gets-superpowers storyline, which is weirder than the usual Locas stuff--more meta, more fragmented, and with an ending that answers the most immediate questions while raising other, more intriguing ones. Also, Boot Angel may be my new favorite character. Gilbert offers up "Sad Girl," a short love-gone-wrong murder mystery, and "Hypnotwist," an enjoyable and enigmatic dream-story, complete with Freud cameo. Long live Los Bros!
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
Books 61-70.
Books 71-80.
Books 81-90.
Books 91-100.
Books 101-110.
111. Slaves of Spiegel by Daniel Pinkwater.
112. Interfictions 2: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing, edited by Delia Sherman and Christopher Barzak.
113. The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death by Daniel Pinkwater.
114. His Eye Is on the Sparrow: An Autobiography by Ethel Waters (with Charles Samuels).
115. Love and Rockets, No. 2: New Stories by Jaime and Gilbert Hernandez. Second of the now-annual continuations of the hope-they-never-end stories of Maggie, Palomar, et al. Jaime's contribution is the conclusion of the Penny-Century-actually-gets-superpowers storyline, which is weirder than the usual Locas stuff--more meta, more fragmented, and with an ending that answers the most immediate questions while raising other, more intriguing ones. Also, Boot Angel may be my new favorite character. Gilbert offers up "Sad Girl," a short love-gone-wrong murder mystery, and "Hypnotwist," an enjoyable and enigmatic dream-story, complete with Freud cameo. Long live Los Bros!
2009 Reading #114: His Eye Is on the Sparrow
Books 1-10.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
Books 61-70.
Books 71-80.
Books 81-90.
Books 91-100.
Books 101-110.
111. Slaves of Spiegel by Daniel Pinkwater.
112. Interfictions 2: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing, edited by Delia Sherman and Christopher Barzak.
113. The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death by Daniel Pinkwater.
114. His Eye Is on the Sparrow: An Autobiography by Ethel Waters (with Charles Samuels). Here's how I came to this book: I'm writing about 1934. I started looking at pop culture from 1934--movies, music, etc. "Stormy Weather," one of my favorite tunes, was first performed by Ethel Waters in 1933 at the Cotton Club. Now, Waters grew up in Philadelphia, not St. Paul, so the research value here may be limited, but it's of the right era, at least. Anyway. I find that with celebrity autobiographies, the early parts--about childhood and growing up--tend to be the most interesting; once they start to "make it" the books tend to become a catalog of collaborator's names, ups and downs, etc., and the trials of their adult personal lives tend to be elided. That's true of this book as well. Waters' early life was harrowing; born to a mother who didn't want her, she latched onto her grandmother, who worked as a housemaid and was only home once a week. Her aunts were selfish drunks, and Waters spent much of her childhood literally on the mean streets of Philly's red light district. For a book published in the early fifties, the autobiography is surprisingly frank about much of this. It appears that the virtues Waters learned from her childhood were self-reliance and hard work, and when she chanced into a singing career she was able to prosper thanks to those qualities. In the process she became the first African-American woman to headline a play on Broadway, recorded several hit records, and starred in some major Hollywood films--including "Pinky," for which she was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress award.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
Books 61-70.
Books 71-80.
Books 81-90.
Books 91-100.
Books 101-110.
111. Slaves of Spiegel by Daniel Pinkwater.
112. Interfictions 2: An Anthology of Interstitial Writing, edited by Delia Sherman and Christopher Barzak.
113. The Snarkout Boys and the Avocado of Death by Daniel Pinkwater.
114. His Eye Is on the Sparrow: An Autobiography by Ethel Waters (with Charles Samuels). Here's how I came to this book: I'm writing about 1934. I started looking at pop culture from 1934--movies, music, etc. "Stormy Weather," one of my favorite tunes, was first performed by Ethel Waters in 1933 at the Cotton Club. Now, Waters grew up in Philadelphia, not St. Paul, so the research value here may be limited, but it's of the right era, at least. Anyway. I find that with celebrity autobiographies, the early parts--about childhood and growing up--tend to be the most interesting; once they start to "make it" the books tend to become a catalog of collaborator's names, ups and downs, etc., and the trials of their adult personal lives tend to be elided. That's true of this book as well. Waters' early life was harrowing; born to a mother who didn't want her, she latched onto her grandmother, who worked as a housemaid and was only home once a week. Her aunts were selfish drunks, and Waters spent much of her childhood literally on the mean streets of Philly's red light district. For a book published in the early fifties, the autobiography is surprisingly frank about much of this. It appears that the virtues Waters learned from her childhood were self-reliance and hard work, and when she chanced into a singing career she was able to prosper thanks to those qualities. In the process she became the first African-American woman to headline a play on Broadway, recorded several hit records, and starred in some major Hollywood films--including "Pinky," for which she was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress award.
What kind of day has it been:
10:47 CONSERVATIVE, n. A statesman who is enamored of existing evils, as distinguished from the Liberal, who wishes to replace them with others. #
19:27 surrenders. #
Automatically stabbed through your living brain by LoudTwitter- 11:53 @boulettor Pour éviter déconstructionisme français postmoderne? #
- 15:05 Hmm. It's time to play the "Where'd the blood on my hands come from?" game. Alone in my house. This is way more fun at the mall. #
- 15:49 Japanese clothing designer prepares to give Ed Hardy a run for his money: www.samuraiterrorunltd.bigcartel.com/pro
ducts # - 20:27 Having a fever might explain why I feel like crap. Can't hold my head up. Want a break. Insane I can't get a sick day even when unemployed. #
- 21:56 The mystery blood today reminded me of a warm evening long ago letting mosquitoes land and bite - then flexing to make them pop. #
I'm snuggled in bed with my kid, my iPod, brand new wireless (thanks Pete) and a microwaved sack of rice. H is on the way, eventually. Grateful for the week with family we just had, and for being back home, and for health. My life: Not too shabby, folks.
Posted via LiveJournal.app.
The Writers Groups From Hell held its annual white elephant holiday gift exchange party yesterday. I was one of the founding members of the critiquing group back in 1989, when it didn't yet have a name, and I had to drop out when Science Fiction Age took over my life. But each year, all members, both current and past, gather together to unload unwanted, unneeded, and unnecessary gifts on each other.
Over good food and drink, I learned things about my friends I never knew before—such as Sharon Patry's misspent youth artificially inseminating rabbits. I'd share other unsavory anecdotes, but then I'd have to mark this entry NSFW, and we don't want to go there, do we?
Here I am with Mindy Klasky, while Fred Gooding looks on from the background.
To see who else turned up, check out my flickr set.
And to see how well (or poorly) we're aging, here are the holiday photos from 2007.
Over good food and drink, I learned things about my friends I never knew before—such as Sharon Patry's misspent youth artificially inseminating rabbits. I'd share other unsavory anecdotes, but then I'd have to mark this entry NSFW, and we don't want to go there, do we?
Here I am with Mindy Klasky, while Fred Gooding looks on from the background.
To see who else turned up, check out my flickr set.
And to see how well (or poorly) we're aging, here are the holiday photos from 2007.
I swear I get sick every Christmas, on the holiday or right after. This year it was a 24-hour stomach flu that had me completely wiped all day yesterday. Everyone else in the house except Finn got it too, but not as bad. I'm feeling nearly normal now and am very grateful for it.
Today we head back to Eau Claire. It will be nice to be home, although this has been a great visit. I forgot to cancel our mail so there should be a good heap to sort through, and some newspapers to read.
Short work week for Hans, with a holiday...good times!
Today we head back to Eau Claire. It will be nice to be home, although this has been a great visit. I forgot to cancel our mail so there should be a good heap to sort through, and some newspapers to read.
Short work week for Hans, with a holiday...good times!
Citadel Snail
Originally uploaded by Little Ayun.
Nearly every photo I posted is not of Hue itself, but of the monuments and landmarks that draw visitors. But for the record, Hue has a narrow backpacker's alley crammed with cheap hotels, white guys with dreads* and bars serving Tiger beer in very large bottles. It also has schools along the main road between the train station and the backpacker's alley, and if you choose to walk the kilometer and a half or so from the train station with the two German girls who shared your train compartment and gave you Dalat wine the night before which you drank out of sliced-up water bottles, you will attract a lot of attention from the school kids, maybe because everyone takes cabs from the train station, or maybe because your backpack (your backpack, not the German girls') is about the size of your entire body and looks very full even when it's empty which, at this point in the trip, anyway, it was.
Hue also has, by my reckoning, the best pho-you-get-from-a-lady-with-a-big-pot-o
* All backpackers are douches to some extent, especially the ones who obsess over labels and coin terms like 'flashpacker' that douches like me then use. But this trip was my first exposure to South-East Asia-visiting backpackers and oh my god are they the douchiest.
What kind of day has it been:
06:39 is looking forward to his 2 weeks in NYC after GAFilk, but not to the new moronic TSA restrictions. #
09:46 It's a quiet morning with Aimee Mann predominating my iTunes shuffle. Bliss. #
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- mrdankelly
- Dan Kelly