He didn't think to turn off his alarm before he left. I was too exhausted to manage it, so Cordelia ended up coming in and doing it. The alarm is a clock radio that gets louder the longer it's left going. After that, it still took me more than five minutes to drag myself out of bed to get coffee and food for Cordelia and to pull together her lunch.
I think that today will actually involve a nap or, at least, an attempt at one. I've got a list of things I wanted to get done, but sleep seems crucial. Maybe I can put laundry in to wash and then sleep. Today will involve at least two loads.
I've got about eight emails and four phone calls to make, but I can't manage the calls without more sleep. Some of the emails, I might manage and may try. We'll see.
Horror Movie I Hate: Motivational Growth (2012). It took me forever to remember it, in part because I have been fortunate enough to see very few movies in any genre that I truly hate and I suspect in part because I had repressed the experience, but we were subjected to this 104-minute exercise in pseudo-existentialist audience exhaustion as a last-minute, four a.m. replacement for The Hands of Orlac (1924) during SF37 and even Jeffrey Combs voicing a sentient blob of black mold could not save it. It just kept not stopping. Rob refused to leave the theater because he was afraid that if he didn't see it end, it might never be over. I feel bitter about missing out on Conrad Veidt to this day.
Horror Movie I Think Is Overrated: I do not generally find it useful to think of a film as overrated when all that means is that other people like it more than I do, but I did not enjoy An American Werewolf in London (1981) at all. It had been talked up to me as a comedy; it upset me badly with its gross-out effects, its protagonist's terror, and its bloody ending; I was watching it with someone who loved it; it was awkward all round.
Horror Movie I Think Is Underrated: I don't think I can cite Jennifer's Body (2009) since that film currently seems to be undergoing a renaissance, so on the grounds that I still find myself recommending it to people who have never heard of it, let's say Demon (2015). It remains the best dybbuk film since Michał Waszyński and it's even on Kanopy.
Horror Movie I Love: Psycho (1960). Much to my surprise. I didn't think I would hate it when I finally managed to see it in an irony-free environment, but I didn't think I would watch it three times in the same forty-eight hours. I still haven't managed to write about it because I loved it so much; some movies I can't stop talking about, some I don't know where to start. It's like I'm afraid of getting them wrong. I suspect this of being some permutation of Tiny Wittgenstein, but it's kept me from writing about more than one film for years. Psycho is not at the top of the list, but it's frustratingly included.
Horror Movie I Could Watch on Repeat: I have watched The Legend of Hell House (1973) at every possible opportunity since being introduced to it and expect to continue to do so, partly for its parapsychological weirdness, partly for its radiophonic soundtrack by Delia Derbyshire, greatly for Roddy McDowall. I love that it is explicitly a Christmas movie. I love that its ending goes so far over the top that one of my other favorite character actors cameoing as a corpse registers with a shrug of sure, why not? while still being emotionally poignant to me. Besides, it got into my fiction while I was asleep.
Horror Movie That Made Me Fall in Love with Horror Movies: Arsenic and Old Lace (1946). I do not think that I ever actually saw a single movie that made me fall in love with horror movies, especially since there are so many different kinds of horror movie and I have an evident affinity for some and a much more tenuous relationship with others, but if I had ever been tempted to say categorically that I didn't like horror movies, early imprinting on Peter Lorre's Dr. Einstein would have demonstrated otherwise. When my husband just now told me he was about to microwave a pizza instead of putting it in the oven, I responded instinctively, "Oh, Johnny, not the Melbourne method." If you would prefer a less funny answer, Cat People (1942).
Horror Movie That Changed My Life: Shaun of the Dead (2004), although technically it was an on-set photo that did it. I found one character's death scene so emotionally upsetting, it really helped to find a production photo afterward in which the actor looked at most mildly dubious about his violent and wrenchingly mistimed disemboweling. I don't want to say that I had never thought about practical effects before that, because I have written proof that I did, but I think I thought about them differently afterward. It's been useful.
Guilty Pleasure: I have no movies I feel bad about liking! If I have to pick one that sounds unlikely, Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008) is a deliberately, splatterily over-the-top Goth-punk neo-Jacobean Grand Opera Guignol and I own both the DVD and the soundtrack. I think I was supposed to like it ironically, but unfortunately I tend to like things either unironically or not at all, so here we are.
strange_complex linked me a Twitter thread on the Great Selkie of Sule Skerry. That's one of the oldest songs I can remember knowing; my mother used to sing it to me as a lullaby. I wonder if there are any selkie horror films. Stolen skins would do it.
At noon, I decided to clean out my email. I now have 0 emails in my inbox and over 1000 fewer in my "keep stuff" folder. Let's see how long I can keep this true for. I also found my college transcripts in my email box, and looked those over. It's sad that I pretty much ruined my future because I wouldn't go see the counselor after 9/11. I had been working in the twin towers until 9/1/01, so I was pretty fucked up when they fell. But rather than do something intelligent like talking to someone, I tried to power through, and my grades reflect that, getting gradually better from Cs and Fs to As and Bs by my last semester. If I had only dropped that fall semester and gone to see a professional I might have had options when it came time to work towards my MA and PHD. Oh well. It's really obvious in the transcripts, so maybe if I ever decide to try another MA or phD I can write a personal statement that explains the whole thing. Of course by then whatever the generation is that are Millennials' children will be in charge, and they won't remember 9/11 at all. *sighs*
Duke John had surgery to remove some cancer from his intestine. Because he is such a figure, his household started a facebook page to give everyone updates on his health. It has largely been filled with prayers, and offers of "any way I can help?" But Ximon started a thread that was for Duke John jokes, along the line of Chuck Norris jokes. Some of them were pretty funny. But in trying to remember Chuck Norris' name, I found someone who had literally never heard of him. How even? Even when I told her the name I was trying to think of she said she had never heard of him. *sighs* Am I dating myself? I hear that can lead to incest.
Kevin listens to NPR while he drives home, and today he came in on the middle of a segment with a movie reviewer. Before he realized what was being talked about, he had been spoiled for Endgame. He is super pissed. He was still practically screaming when he told me what had happened, and suggested dragging the man naked behind a pick up truck. Personally, I don't disagree. Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to give spoilers for probably the biggest movie event of the decade the Thursday it comes out over the radio with no spoiler alert? We're going to see it tomorrow, and he'll keep NPR off until we get out. It's hard enough avoiding spoilers on facebook, now you have to avoid professional media?
At 6, I left to go to fighter practice. Rather than the rapier that I do on Tuesdays, this is broadsword fighting. It was a good practice: Duke Orlando, Earl Wulfstan, Sir Morgan, THL Thorhall, a girl whose first day in armor it was, and myself all showed up. These are arranged in order of how many fighting awards they have. Dukes are really rare - they're the best fighters. Followed by Earls, then knights, then Bears (THL) then there's probably an AOA level award that neither Kristy nor I have. Orlando says I need to work on moving my shield more, which is mostly because it's really heavy and my arms are exhausted. Morgan says I have to learn to move my feet more. That's fair. I have the same problem in rapier. Then Orlando pointed out that I fight heavy like a rapier fighter, trying to hit center mass. Getting that shot in heavy is really rare, and I need to work more on the basic shots to the side of the head or legs. By the end of the night I was hitting Thorhall in the legs over and over again. But I still wasn't moving my feet, which is how I was taught to fight in Colorado, but will get me dead here. Fighters from Meridies are some of the best in the known world. They regularly clean up at Pennsic and Gulf Wars. Fighting like an Outlander will just get me dead, so it's time to retrain my feet. I guess that's what Wednesday nights at Wulfstan's are for.
Around 9:15 I was the first to notice it was starting to rain. Orlando said, "so it is. Do you want to try to get in one more set before it really starts to come down?" I agreed. It was a mistake. I was taking my armor off in an absolute downpour 5 minutes later. I almost left my chair and water bottle, but Kristy came up beside me and gave them to me. Oops. It was my own fault - I had moved my phone into the car to protect it from the rain but the phone is usually the last thing I pick up so once I had that, I didn't think about looking around for other things. Dumb.
On the way home, I stopped at Waffle House. I ate quickly, and headed home.
I got home and Kevin said I had missed a really good episode of The Orville, which I will watch as soon as I finish typing this. I took a shower and stretched and did my PT, then started on this entry.
It looks like it's going to continue to rain overnight tonight, but then we're in for 10 days of nice weather, including the rain on the 4th having cleared up. So that's good. Long drives in the rain suck. Saturday looks like it's going to be nice - only 77F - for our MARTA outing with NaNoWriMo. So that's good. Vacation looks good, too. 83 every day, with some rain on Wednesday but otherwise clear skies. Only a 40% chance on that Wednesday, so probably not? Maybe we'll find something to do on Wednesday. It's not a very big tourist area, but it's only an hour from Kennedy Space Center. The only problem is that is $50, and Shayna may not have that.
May is a hard month, financially. We need birthday gifts for my sister and aunt, and a mother's day gift for my mother. I may take $30 from the account now to pay for one of them this month, and then deal with the other two out of May's paycheck. We always make it work, it's just not very comfortable. Probably, I can't afford to go to Kennedy, either. Maybe it'll just rain for a small part of the day.
I broke the pop socket on my phone today, and I can't work out how to get the sticky part off of my phone case. I think this means I need a new phone case as well as a new pop socket. I should order that now to make sure it gets here before Florida so I can use my phone as a GPS on the way down there. Well I just decided to get that phone case that is also a wallet and holds your id and credit card. Hopefully the pop socket will work with that case, but I've sort of wanted one of those since I first became aware of them. I got the exact same pop socket as I had last time, and probably for the same reason. It was the coolest one that was only $9. They're coming Saturday. I don't think I need GPS before that. I know how to get to the movie theater and the MARTA station. This should work to make me less paranoid constantly that I have my purse but not my wallet since I'm sort of OCD about that.
I read on someone else's lj that this constant fear I have that people close to me are going to die may not be normal, and may actually be OCD? It's like this overwhelming thing with me that my parents or Kevin are going to die, even though my parents are in good health (although admittedly 70 years old), and Kevin is fat, but not really about to keel over, either, if I think about it rationally. I mean, even as overweight as he is, his life expectancy is another 15 years. There's no reason for the constant dread and constant planning of what I would do if he died. I'm not sure why I spend so much time planning for this, but I always think maybe I'd sell my house and move in with my parents, saving the money from the sale of my house to try to buy my sister's half of my parents house when they die. I don't want to be alone. But I don't know why I am obsessed with this. There's no reason to think it's about to happen. But it's overwhelming. I even answer the phone when I don't know the number, just in case it is the police telling me to come to the hospital. Even though I know that when the police call you 911 shows up on the caller id.
Well, that got dark. Maybe I'll go watch The Orville. Oops I forgot to hit send. Now I've watched The Orville, and Holy Shit. I hope they get another season.
- Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw: different trailer, still like getting bludgeoned with testosterone.
- 21 Bridges, has extra opening seconds. I would like to think that Chadwick Boseman is going to pick movies that are thoughtful about the police's exercise of power, and there are a few hints toward that maybe, but based on this it's a hell of an uphill battle to get me to believe it.
- The Lion King: I just can't even.
- Long Shot, but none of the trailers at IMDB seem to be what we got? Anyway: oh look, Seth Rogen screws things up for Charlize Theron, whee.
- Godzilla: King of the Monsters: that's a lot of giant monsters, none of which looked really convincing, and also you don't get to use "One X to rule them all," sorry, you just don't.
- Gemini Man, has about one extra opening second. Will Smith fights his younger clone; I have no feelings about this.
- Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. The thing is, okay. The Last Jedi had major problems, but I feel, in retrospect, that it was at least trying to do something that wasn't just "coast on nostalgia," that it had a point of view that it was trying to express? And this does not give me confidence that that's going to be carried through. Because giving a trilogy to different directors and letting them do, apparently, whatever the fuck they want is a bad creative decision.
I wasn't planning on seeing it Thursday night, because I had an oral argument scheduled for this afternoon and I knew it would be very tiring (it was, much more so than usual—good, I mean, I love oral argument, but), but that's how logistics worked out. (Reserved seats are so great.) And, as I've said at various points here, I did not have high expectations. So I went in feeling somewhat muted and cynical, reflected in my choice of t-shirt.
Let's do it in this order: non-spoiler content note; general reaction with no plot details; spoiler content note; all the spoilers.
Anyway, if you have a name for this let me know, and if you have other examples also let me know because it's a genre I really enjoy, as I have been reminded by reading Caroline Stevermer's When The King Comes Home, which kate_nepveu was extremely correct to recommend to me an age and a day ago.
The protagonist: artist's apprentice Hail Rosamer, who has recently become obsessed with the work of Famous Historical Artist Maspero, who lived about two centuries prior and did a lot of work around the profile of Historically Good King Julian.
This means that when Hail stumbles over a distressed-looking hobo under a bridge with Good King Julian's exact profile, she knows exactly what to do.
HAIL: omg you're Good King Julian returned, just like in the stories! I recognized you from Maspero's art!
A MAN WITH GOOD KING JULIAN'S EXACT PROFILE: well, it's complicated, and there's an evil necromancer that -
HAIL: TELL ME ALL ABOUT MASPERO. 😍 WAS HE AMAZING. 😍 WHAT COLOR PALLETTES DID HE USE
A MAN WITH GOOD KING JULIAN'S EXACT PROFILE: ... you mean the Maspero who occasionally moonlighted as an artist?
HAIL: YES 😍
A MAN WITH GOOD KING JULIAN'S EXACT PROFILE: ..... I mean I can tell you he drank a lot and owed me money?
HAIL: OKAY BUT WHAT ABOUT HIS LINEWORK 😍
Obviously, the fact that a dead king has been brought back from the dead by an evil necromancer does in fact turn out to have sociopolitical implications in which Hail becomes inextricably involved ... mostly by trailing around on various efforts to stop the necromancer, attempting to engage anyone and everyone in conversation about Maspero and his artwork until they're all thoroughly sick of it. I love her? I love her. 3/4 of the way through the book she participates in some important art magic and also is forced to grudgingly admit that Maspero's color work may not have always been up to the highest standards.
I mean, don't get me wrong, the tone of the book is as much wistful melancholy as anything else -- the underlying themes are about death and the inevitability of loss and the myths we tell ourselves about the past -- but also, it is truly an enormous amount of fun to watch the entire plot unfold through the lens of a hyper-focused art student.
( Some of my other favorite scenes are mid-book spoilers )
Date/prompt: 25-Apr-2019 "and a lie that makes you beg for more"
Fandom: Galaxy Angel
Characters/pairing: The Angels
Type/word-count: Humor; 100 words
Rating/warnings: Mature for adult humor.
Ranpha Lied As Naturally As She Breathed at AO3
I was hoping for some window goodness since a lot of stores step up their game for the upcoming Met Gala, but Saks was in progress and not in a way that led me to expect better coming, Bergdorf was doing a variation on things it's done many times before, Dior was dull, and Chanel was dull and didn't even have lights on. Bloomingdale's, though, was doing some kind of recycling-themed window series. The bottom one with the wall o' Windex had something about Windex doing some recycling thing but I just wanted to get home at that point and tl;dr.
I've mostly been listening to the local alternative radio station in my car lately but last night and today I linked my iPod nano in and belted along to various songs from my past, even physically rocking out where appropriate. It's so bittersweet to sing along with Chester Bennington now.
I do, however, keep trying to move my hair so that it won't get in the way when I'm doing routine things-- picking up my purse, rinsing my mouth after brushing my teeth-- and it's not in the right place. It's long enough that my hand still touches it, but I only brush the ends. It's weird.
I've managed to get my Wayback Exchange assignment moving again, but I have no idea how I'm going to get from where I am to what I intend. Optional details are optional, but I'd like to manage something in the general vicinity of what my recipient is hoping for. I'm sitting on the H/C Exchange story for a few days while I figure out the bits that need to go into the already written part to make it work. I think I know what they are, but I need to set them in place just so or it won't work.
I've decided to return one library book without even cracking it open. It's due Sunday and has holds, and while I'm kind of interested in reading Elfquest some day, I don't think I actually care enough to deal with the book. It's too big and heavy (and I never cared enough to look at the comics online, so...). Mostly, I'm interested in it as something that people I played AD&D with in college were really into. The DM built his elves on the comics.
It's possible that tonight I won't have to turn the heat on, but I'll still have to bundle up well. As ever, temps are set to drop again the next five days, and some lucky folk will get snow.
Accomplished one item on my feet-dragging list. Took bike to store and asked about tune-ups. "Leave it today and you'll have it back in a week." Yes, well.Next step: check out new bikes. Foot-dragging on this is a luxury. In the past I've always had to buy a new bike because the old one was stolen. Maybe being bikeless for a week will give the same impetus.
( Reading )
Cymraeg, a Jedao and Cheris dialogue:
Jedao: Noswaith dda, Cheris!
Cheris: Noswaith dda! Dych chi'n wedi mynd i'r gwaith?
Jedao: Ydw. Dw i'n mwynhau gweithio ynghanol y gofod. A chi?
Cheris: Dych chi'n dod o Efrog Newydd?
Jedao: Nac ydw, dw i'n dod o Eshpatan. Dw i'n mynd i prynu menig da iawn heno.
Cheris: Dych chi'n gwisgo menig eisoes!
Jedao: Ond dw i eisiau menig heb fys!
[I'm really covering for the fact that I have not figured out how the !@#$!@#$ third-person conjugation works in Welsh at all, since it just came up in Duolingo like a week ago. I can make I-statements and formal you-statements right now. Everything else is a Mystery.]
Français, a Jedao and Cheris dialogue:
Jedao: Bonsoir, mon amie!
Cheris: Pardonnez-moi, je ne suis pas votre amie, monsieur. Je suis seulement une Kel.
Jedao: Mais j'aime beaucoup les oiseaux.
Cheris: Hélàs, je n'aime pas les goupils qui parlent avec les mots faciles.
Jedao: Est-ce que tu as vu les gants sans doigts noires? J'ai perdu les miennes.
Cheris: Où pouvons-nous chercher les bonnes gants?
Jedao: À Paris, bien sûr! Toutes les vêtements excellents sont en Paris.
Deutsch, a Jedao and Cheris dialogue:
Jedao: Guten Abend, Cheris! Was suchst du nun?
Cheris: Ich brauche ein Raumschiff.
Jedao: Na klar, ich auch! Vielleicht können wir zusammen gehen, wenn wir ein Raumschiff finden.
Cheris: Nein, danke. Ich will allein gehen.
Jedao: Aber wir sind Freunde!
Cheris: Sie sind meinen Kommandant! Es ist unmöglich, dass wir Freunde sein können.
Jedao: Ich habe eine Idee. Ich werde die Armee aufhören!
Cheris: Ich denke, dass Sie können das nicht tun...
[Help, what is syntax even...]
한글, a Jedao and Cheris dialogue:
재다오: 안녕, 채리스야! 오늘 무순책 읽어?
채리스: 안녕하세요, 재다오대군! 저는 책많이 안읽는데 텔레비전에서 만화를 뵙니다.
재다오: 나 노래불를까?
채리스: 제발 하지마시오. 곡을 부를 수는 없습니다.
[I had to Google Translate "you sing out of tune."]
日本語、a Jedao and Cheris dialogue:
[Oof, I am done languaging for tonight, especially since I keep suspecting that Google Translate is giving me really informal translations when I try to look things up for help.]
--There's still a lot of post-heat pump-installation tidying and cleaning to do, but at least all the manga's off my office floor now.
--Tomorrow is a "stay home and work on manga" day. None of my deadlines are at the point of being scary, but I'm pretty fried. And of course it'd be nice to avoid getting to that scary point.
--Tomorrow is also both when I'm seeing Endgame and when the next episode of Fruits Basket drops (although I may not manage to see it until Saturday), in which we'll meet a character who was played by a seiyuu I dearly love in the original anime, and yet I'm really excited to hear being played by someone else now. The approach taken with her the first time around was very much about playing up her comedic elements, and I can't imagine that would have transitioned well into some of her later material, so I'm glad to get a new take. (Assuming I like the new performance. *g*)
--I have been and will continue to be aggressively dodging Endgame spoilers, but there is one element that's being widely warned about, and I'm glad to have had the heads-up: ( link to an otherwise not-majorly-spoilery article about it under the cut )
ETA: alexseanchai linked to an even less-spoilery tweet with the basic content-warning info.
I buy it at Target and it only has about five and a half cups in it (American measures) but if you're traveling somewhere and gonna need to bake yourself some biscuits or cookies, I cannot tell you how well this stuff works.
People. I made biscuits that rose two full inches. I shit you not, they were fine. Moist and delicious and the few that were left made a killer bread pudding for dessert that night.
Cup2Cup GF Flour. Has the zantham gum already in it. No soy (praise be!).
(PS mods? The tags wouldn't load for me, would you tag this if it keeps not tagging?)
Come join me in the comments and share your most hilarious, messy, or disappointing gluten-free disaster, and what you (hopefully) learned from it.
The other week I was re-reading Otto Penzler's The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories (2010) and found myself really struck by William Campbell Gault's "The Bloody Bokhara" (1948), a tale of antiques and double-crosses set in the oriental rug trade in Milwaukee—narrated not by a detective, a policeman, or even a buyer, but by first-generation Armenian-American Levon "Lee" Kaprelian, being raised in the rug business by his immigrant parents. As far as I can judge, it's good writing-the-other. Instead of exotic local color, Lee's world of pilaf and appraisals and spring dances at the Junior League of the AGBU is the ordinary, working-class one suddenly invaded by a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl with a secret, a four-hundred-year-old carpet potentially woven by a Persian master, and threatening strangers who drag with them ghosts of the old world, the one that Lee's parents and their beloved, competitive cousin fled a decade before Lee was born: their families died there. The story is so matter-of-fact about the Armenian genocide that it shocked me; at one point Lee witnesses a confrontation between his father and his father's cousin and one of the aforementioned strangers that leaves everyone alive but his father trembling with anger and trauma, having had to order out of his shop in safe, free America a man of the age and nationality to have been a perpetrator of the genocide he survived as a young man, who more than two decades later addresses him with the contempt of one. "His mind, I would guess, was back in Sivas, under the Turks." Is it a major piece of the story? No, but it's a major piece of the history of the Armenian diaspora, so it's there and it's acknowledged. Otherwise, when Lee who gets told he looks like Tyrone Power enters an apartment and hears Khatchaturian's "Sabre Dance" on the record player, he feels a little set up. He lives in America.
Anyway, in 1948 an American pulp writer could feel confident that his readership would know about the Armenian genocide; it's weird to me that my country doesn't recognize it, even if the state I live in does. It's not just a nicety of language, it's a form of denial not to name it. How you speak of people's deaths matters. These things feel even more important now.
It came out really well. It gives instructions for adapting to dairy-free and/or egg-free versions, also instructions on how to make your own buttermilk if you don't want to use dairy buttermilk or don't want to buy a lot and then not use it all. I used that method--a cup of lactose-free cow milk with a tablespoon of white vinegar.
Sorry no photos of the finished product, but I highly recommend trying the recipe. I had to add a bit more milk after mixing the dry and wet ingredients.
Instead of patting out the dough and making round biscuits, I scooped up large spoonfuls of the dough and just dropped them onto greased cookie sheets. Recipe claims 12 round biscuits. I had about 24 drop ones.