leahbobet: (bat signal)
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:46 pm): I think Steven is getting a little dragon-happy.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:46 pm): I feel like summoning a dragon should not be your answer to every situation.
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:46 pm): heeee
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:46 pm): It so should.
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:46 pm): "Catbox needs cleaning!" *dragon*
[livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb (9:46 pm): Really should.
[livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb (9:46 pm): "This person eyeballed me."
[livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb (9:46 pm): *dragon*
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (9:48 pm): "What's for dinner?"
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (9:48 pm): *dragon*
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:48 pm): Oh noes, dragon!
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (9:48 pm): That last one might not work.
[livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb (9:48 pm): *agrees with Leah entirely*
[livejournal.com profile] stillnotbored (9:48 pm): Dragons would solve so many of my problems with people at work.
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:48 pm): "It's cold and I don't want to go get milk." *dragon*
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:48 pm): He wiped out an entire mining town with the dragon.
[livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb (9:49 pm): The mining town looked at him funny
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:49 pm): Its catboxes were dirty.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:49 pm): It tried to arrest him on trumped up charges. Totally warranted use of dragon.
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (9:49 pm): See, some people need killin'.
[livejournal.com profile] hawkwing_lb (9:50 pm): By dragon.

--

[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (9:52 pm): And let's be honest, Amanda. If you could summon dragons at will, you'd be doing it all the time.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:53 pm): This is true.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:53 pm): Traffic?
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (9:53 pm): Dragon.

--

[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (10:01 pm): But you start to lose plausible deniability when unsummoned dragons show up and burninate the countryside.
[livejournal.com profile] leahbobet (10:01 pm): Well, only if they know you're the guy with the dragons.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (10:02 pm): And if you're dragon-summoning properly... no witnesses.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (10:02 pm): If anyone was paying any attention they would have figured that part out.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (10:02 pm): Also, "Accused of summoning dragons?"
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (10:02 pm): Dragon.

...I'm pretty sure she was talking about Skyrim. But y'know, I'm not asking.
September 20, 2011 Progress Notes:

Light (bad working title)

Words today: 450.
Words total: 1800.
Reason for stopping: Hit a stop. And before midnight, for once.

Darling du Jour: The quiet seeped out of the walls.

Mean Things: Waking up to some unexpected complications. No, even I didn't expect them.
Research Roundup: Sunrise times for late September.

Books in progress: Charles Yu, How to Live Safely in a Science-Fictional Universe.


Odd process things tonight: For the fourth time in four days, I am rewriting this same little scene, changing tense (we're back to past) or moving bits around or trying to start it from different places. Tonight I have it disassembled on the floor, cutting and pasting bits of paragraphs here and there, moving them like puzzle pieces, to try to make a picture that's the same picture -- two days later, girl gets up, notes bruising, and goes to Kensington Market -- but new. Somehow. There's a trail of sentences and images, the litter of previous versions, tailing down pages at the end of the file.

I think I am panning for narrative voice. And the leading tendril of an early conflict.

Revising, man. I'm telling you. It does things to your brain.

Otherwise.

Today, we did some small necessaries: mailed a few things, bought a new bedside lamp (the last one died the death last week), returned the extra yarn from the sweater to the yarn store for credit, and found some bubble bath, because it's September and chilly and there is no good reason for me to not have one drop of bubble bath in the whole house.

Things learned during this excursion include:

1) There are things Blue Banana* does not have for sale, notably lamps that aren't those ridiculous solid quartz lamps and/or bubble bath;
2) There is a vintage/antiques store in Kensington that, while not having lamps I wanted, has Atari games (!!!);
3) I won't even go east of Spadina anymore if it can be helped.

I also blew off what was probably a very good launch party for the Toronto Review of Books because I'd hit a good patch with the wordcount, and wrote all evening instead. Sometimes it's just like that.

Quick laundry, perhaps. And then bed. Lots to do tomorrow.

*Aka the Kensington Market Hippie Megamall.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:05 pm: Maybe I'm old fashioned, but some of these things make me say "No, I will not be tolerant and accepting of your alternate lifestyle. You need psychiatric help."
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:05 pm: But then I worry I might wake up one day and find I've joined the Westboro Baptist Church.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:05 pm: (We have a neighbourhood in Ottawa called Westboro... I have never investigated what churches are present.)
[livejournal.com profile] beatriceeagle 10:07 pm: I think as long as you accept someone, you've got one up on the WBC.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:07 pm: heh
[livejournal.com profile] katallen 10:08 pm: I believe the WBC are moderately tolerant of each other.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:08 pm: There appears to be only a Unitarian Church in our Westboro.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 10:08 pm: Isn't it standard assumption now that the WBC aren't bigots, they're trolls?
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:08 pm: And I don't think the Westboro Unitarian Church would be quite the same.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 10:08 pm: Oh man, although now I want to start it.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:09 pm: "We hate everyone, except all the people we tolerate."
[livejournal.com profile] beatriceeagle 10:09 pm: I think that if you act like a bigot all the time, it doesn't much matter.
[livejournal.com profile] beatriceeagle 10:09 pm: Ha!
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 10:09 pm: You picket funerals with signs like "We accept your lifestyle and welcome your friendship."
[livejournal.com profile] beatriceeagle 10:09 pm: "We're sorry for your loss."
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:09 pm: "And those we accept."
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 10:09 pm: "But other than that -- WATCH OUT!"
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 10:09 pm: "Can we get you anything? Drink? Cookie?"


In other news that is not about shit-disturbing on the Internet, today's e-mail has brought both a copyedited manuscript and an ISBN for Above. I give back the CEM next week, but the ISBN I may keep.

The new issue of Ideomancer is up, with fiction from returning author Sandra Odell, Emily Skaftun, and Su-Yee Lin; book reviews aplenty; and three poems from and an interview with our first featured poet in a while, Mari Ness.

Also, Chilling Tales has hit its Canadian release date and is available for those of you in the Canadas (if you are in the Americas or the UKs, you have to wait longer. Sorry.) This is the anthology that "Stay" is in, alongside a lot of very, very, very good Canadian horror writers. We are launching it at the bookstore in two weeks' time.

Aside from that? It is cold, and I am terrifically busy, although most of it is good busy.

I am ready, I think, for winter to be done now.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 6:19 pm: Does getting sushi two nights in a row make me a bad person?
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 6:19 pm: I am sleepy and achy and crave the flesh of beasts and fishies.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange 6:19 pm: Are you eating endangered fishes?
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 6:19 pm: No, only the regular kind.
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange 6:19 pm: Then I think it's morally acceptable.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 6:19 pm: Thank you.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 6:23 pm: I will mix it up and get short ribs too, thus lowering my fish-eating footprint.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia 6:24 pm: Ribs and sushi? Happy Channukah!
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia 6:24 pm: That's how I roll.
leahbobet: (bat signal)
Dr. My Roommate and I are experimenting in mutually assured destruction this week. Last weekend, I picked up an original! Nintendo Entertainment System! and games! at the retro game store on Spadina and carried it home gloatingly, thinking of all the original Final Fantasy and Legend of Zelda and Super Mario 3 I'm going to play. Reaction shot:

Dr. My Roommate: Is that what I think it is?
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia: Yep!
Dr. My Roommate: You realize you've doomed me, right? I'll never get anything done again.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia: So that means I should get a second controller and Tetris?

Today she brought home the complete series DVD set of My So-Called Life. I think the term for this would be "upping the ante."


That said, I have in hand my edit letter for Above (have for a week or so, actually) and have started revising. It is not a terribly huge edit letter, but it is a detailed one; it's making me think about getting my story straight on all kinds of consistency issues that don't necessarily show up in the text, but underpin it, and about some of my prose habits, and accessibility on all levels. Cheryl-my-editor-Cheryl is ruthless on matters of worldbuilding and plot logic. This is good. I am a little too fond of "Because I said so" sometimes, and if that's not a good answer for children, it isn't for books either.

That said, do you guys want to hear about the edit letter revising thing? Usually I blog things here to keep myself honest -- public accountability is the best kind, with me -- but for this, I have a deadline. That is like magic built-in accountability of do it or else. If you, the people, think there'll be something of use in hearing about the process, though, I'll talk about it some.

Oh, and yeah: Nobody talk to me if I don't finish chapter 2 tomorrow. :p

Boo.

Jun. 15th, 2010 12:27 am
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (12:14:07 AM): I should probably tidy up a bit if they're showing the apartment tomorrow.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (12:14:09 AM): Alas.
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:15:22 AM): or mess it up more strategically.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (12:16:04 AM): I should leave a note in lipstick on the mirror that says DO NOT LIVE HERE.
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:16:38 AM): Lipstick = not drippy enough.
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (12:16:42 AM): heh
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (12:16:50 AM): just arrange to have the mirrors spin and the walls bleed.
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:17:05 AM): (like my uterus)
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (12:17:29 AM): maybe the mirrors are the problem, there...
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:17:55 AM): Too many or not enough?
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (12:18:00 AM): Any at all?
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (12:18:06 AM): This is actually built on an ancient burial ground.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (12:18:09 AM): But it's a Baptist one.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (12:18:13 AM): I don't know if that's scary enough.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (12:18:35 AM): The ghosts would be very serious.
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:19:07 AM): They would leave very polite notes.
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:19:17 AM): and casseroles.
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:19:47 AM): "Please consider living elsewhere."
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:20:03 AM): "PS 35 minutes at 350."
[livejournal.com profile] tanaise (12:20:38 AM): in blood on the living room wall.

Whoops.

May. 5th, 2010 10:02 pm
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (9:54:21 PM): Nope. There is no fucking joy in Mudville.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (9:54:34 PM): If they'd named it IceCreamSodaVille they might have had a better shot.
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (9:56:15 PM): mmm, ice cream soda.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (9:57:32 PM): My choice of metaphor may be indicating that I need a snack.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (9:57:41 PM): Also, the way I almost just typed "meatphor".
leahbobet: (bat signal)
Back just a little while ago from seeing Owen Pallett with Lindsey who does not to my knowledge have an LJ, and who is defending her doctoral thesis tomorrow morning besides, but was kind enough to share concert tickets with me. It was at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, which is a newish venue, I think? And a good one. Concert-hall big, and lovely acoustics/sightlines. Which was pertinent because it was also general admission and we had to score our own seats.

The opener was Snowblink, which is a band I am seriously going to like, and I can tell because:

1) They started playing and I slipped down into the mental space where there is nothing but music, washing around between my ears and under my breastbone;
2) While I was under, I solved a plotting problem with a stalled story, and it's a fix that'll work;
3) Her guitar has antlers on it. No, real ones.

They did an hour set, including a slowed-down, really pretty cover of Michael Jackson's "Human Nature." Yeah. I know. It worked. We didn't realize what song it was until the chorus, when we started giggling.

As for Owen Pallett...well. I think if you took twin violin prodigies, seperated them at birth, had one raised by scientists and the other raised on anime, console games, and high fantasy novels? You would accurately reproduce Andrew Bird and Owen Pallett (respectively). It was really, really similar to the Andrew Bird live show in the mechanics: foot pedals, laying down tracks, violin, skinny tall guy in suit, keyboards, loops and curls and structure. The thing is, Pallett feels that much more like the fantasy-genre version: his songs are much more broadly and wanderingly structured, and just the feel, the tone of them. Well, and the lyrics. He sang one which was largely about all the RPG characters he's played, if you listened close enough.

He's also not above playing little musical tricks with the audience: opening up a wall of sound or closing it with a snap, in a way that made me just laugh out loud. Or singing, for the second encore, a song that starts "Twice is enough; three times would be an insult." Yep. We are told. :)

Overall, light and bright and stringful night, and I have had a very good day. And now I really need a snack, and to at least figure out what I'm packing so I can go to Ad Astra tomorrow. Right: I'm going to be at Ad Astra this weekend. See you there if I'm seeing you.

Goodnight, O tubes. :)
leahbobet: (bat signal)
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (8:30:51 PM): I feel a vague malaise.
[livejournal.com profile] kafkonia (8:30:55 PM): A book may be in the birthing.
[livejournal.com profile] jmeadows (8:31:15 PM): Were you on the pill?
So today I made it home at 7pm to find out that Mary Sue the Desktop Computer is now a hurt/comfort computer, and wants me to prove my love for her by petting her tenderly, being worried that she has nearly! died! of a rare! tropical! disease!, and throwing money at a computer repair gent to replace either the power supply or motherboard tomorrow after work. My draft of "Stay" is stuck on the desktop too, so I'm a tad miffed. But only a tad. It's not the hard drive, after all, and all will likely be well and all manner of things be well tomorrow night so long as it's the power supply. If it's the motherboard, things take longer. Then I may be more miffed.

If you're waiting for e-mail from me on something and it wasn't sent today, it'll be another day at least. It's sitting on the hurt/comforputer. Sorry.


In other news, I got to send a legitimate work e-mail in the voice of Dr. Doom this afternoon, so it really isn't all bad. *g*
Up early this morning in order to get on the road: today's plan was Tombstone and Bisbee, and that is what we did.

(Breakfast log: rosti and eggs.)

Arizona is very bumpy. There are a lot of cacti. We drove past all these cacti and over all these bumps (and around some twisty bits) on our way to Bisbee, which was the first stop of the afternoon. The place we were going to have lunch wasn't actually open, so we landed at a Mexican restaurant where I had some cilantro and tomato and stuff shrimps and rice and whatnot. Then we went down the street to the Copper Queen Hotel (as seen on Ghost Hunters!) and nosed around it a bit before heading to Tombstone.

I have only one picture from Bisbee, and it actually goes in the Signs... category. So we'll head up the highway to Tombstone now.

Tombstone! Me! In Tombstone!



OMGcakes Tombstone!



OMG that's Schieffelin Hall!



This is the sign that marks the spot where the gunfight at the O.K. Corral went down. [livejournal.com profile] coffeeem informed us of where it is dead wrong.



This is all inside the Birdcage Theatre in Tombstone, which is...less a museum than a collection of rather dusty stuff with some sketchy scholarship involved, but this isn't actually a complaint. It felt more like a cabinet of curiosities or a stationary carnival show, all photographs and old furniture and yes, an honest-to-god fakey fake fossilized mermaid.

The first two are boxes in the main theatre, and the second is the Black Mariah they have in the stage area, which was the hearse for Tombstone during the 1880s. Apparently it's fairly rare.



Look! Writers!

(Okay, this was actually the mirror in some old writing desk. We're just being meta and ironical.)

We made it back in pretty much record time -- even beat the sunset and therefore the wolves back to Tucson! -- and had pizza [livejournal.com profile] willshetterly made for dinner and watched CM. And now we are futzing with the guitar and other people are singing while me and my sore throat (yes, I'm still getting over being sick) are writing this post.

In conclusion, have some more of Signs: An Occasional Series!



I think there is a nice warm soak on the menu this evening, and then I am probably taking tomorrow off Adventuring (tm) in order to actually get some freaking writing done. So there may not be so many pictures tomorrow, unless I corner the cats.
leahbobet: (bat signal)
After a kind of hellacious all-nighter -- which is what happens when you have a flight leaving at 7:45 in the morning and the TSA wants you there three hours beforehand -- I am safely ensconced in Tucson with [livejournal.com profile] coffeeem, [livejournal.com profile] willshetterly, [livejournal.com profile] matociquala, and [livejournal.com profile] truepenny.

Look! Arizona!



I got in around 1:45 in the afternoon after a layover in Denver, in which I saw one (1) gentleman wearing a cowboy hat unironically and a landscape that was something like a rucked-up brown towel, all textures and folds and no colour. We headed pretty much straight to the grocery store for the important things and then home, and proceeded to eat guacamole and, eventually, [livejournal.com profile] matociquala's enchiladas.

The enchiladas almost proved deadly, since this:



Was initially put into this:



Which, since it was smelled vaporizing in time, did not actually cause this:


This is not the Emergency Hazmat Capascin Poisoning system. If this was a real emergency, most of the writing staff of Shadow Unit would have been obliterated in a biohazard site.


But yes, eventually we did make our enchiladas and eat our dinner and laze about, and we have already found some contributions for the Signs: An Irregular Series file.



Tomorrow is to be museuming and the visiting of ponies and some wonderful, wonderful sleep. And it is soon. So goodnight. *g*
leahbobet: (gardening)
1) The Sparkly Purple Girly Laptop arrived this evening, in plenty of time for me to load it up for the forthcoming trip to Arizona (aka CupcakeCon, aka the Tucson Festival of Books, aka Esteban Reyes's Birthday Bash). It's charging itself up on my floor as we speak:



(Yes, I also have a cobalt blue mouse. Girly girl girl!)

Her name is apparently Lillian Lovelace Gish. I don't know why. I think it's like puppies: you have to hold them in your arms before you know what they're really supposed to be called.

2) Three of the Nebula nominees polled for the SF Signal Mind Meld on what other works of fiction were also Nebula-worthy this year mentioned either my bad self or "The Parable of the Shower". I am tickled. I will now call myself a Writer's Writer for a week.

3) Two more quick reviews: One blogger likes "Bears", and another didn't like "Mister Oak".

And three things will have to make a post tonight, because I need to either do some quick laundry or fix a lunch for tomorrow. And then maybe, dare we hope, write words?
Back a little over an hour ago from seeing Peter Mulvey (with Eve Goldberg opening) at a house show out in the extreme west end. It was a beautiful old house -- forced air heating vents and molded ceilings and wood, and yes, I ogle architecture so sue me -- and there was this lovely snowfall on the ground when we got there, enough that Partner in Concert Mike and I took a little stroll around the neighbourhood, just looking at the pretty houses and spending quality time with the snow.

And this was seriously one of the better small shows I've ever seen.

The audience was about 20 people large, most of whom seemed to be musicians of various sorts who had done a songwriting workshop in the afternoon and were doing a jam session after the show. Most of the people in the room knew each other, and knew the opener. This meant both that the room was really comfortable from the start and that half her songs were...her and a guitar and then the sort of half-muttered, soft harmonizing you get when people are singing along or just tossing in impromptu variations on something they know like the back of their hands. It was like sitting in the middle of a choir, kind of soothing and participatory and sweet.

Peter Mulvey did two sets and probably fifteen songs in total including an encore, and does a hell of a live show. He's personable and funny and tells stories in this doesn't-miss-a-beat way with fantastic offhand comic timing. It was a mix of songs and spoken word stuff off his new album, and the spoken word stuff was...eerily beautiful and powerful. The songs were a mix of stuff I knew (Shirt, Knuckleball Suite, Wings of the Ragman, Abilene) and things I didn't know and some fantastic covers: The Magnetic Fields' "The Book of Love" and the Jayhawks' "Bicycle" and a song from Anais Mitchell (who I really need to check out, because post-apocalyptic Depression-influenced operatic retelling of the Orpheus myth? Hello, pure twice-distilled crack for Leahs) and an incredible stripped-down bluesy one of "Everybody Knows".

And between these two sets was a casual sort of intermission with snacks and hot cider and chatting and nanaimo bars, and the whole thing was just fabulously warm and friendly and full of palpable delight.

I have two signed CDs, a warm giddy glow, and the satisfaction of not having splutteringly fangirled all over Peter Mulvey even though I really really wanted to.

Good concert, monkeys. Super good.
Today seems to be a slightly stop-and-start day at Dayjob, so I shall spam LJ a second time.

So due to catching the tail end of a fabulous sale last night while doing some price and build comparisons, I did actually plunk down some cash for a new laptop. Said laptop has the specs I needed for what I am told is a reasonable-to-cheap price, and I will shamelessly admit that a factor in my buying it was that I could customize the case to look like this:


Bahahaha I'm such a girl!


Yes. I am soon to be proud owner of a Sparkly Purple Girly Laptop. I am all aflutter. :D

Thing is, I am not sure quite what to name the new addition to the family.

Naming laptops is tricky. You sort of get what you ask for. While it was done more in recognition than in the spirit of asking for it, I'm sure it didn't do me any favours that my current/soon-to-be-former laptop is named Coyote the Trickster Laptop, and the relative cooperativeness of my desktop probably has to do with it being called Mary Sue the Wonder Desktop. You have to watch yourself with this kind of thing.

So. I figured why not hold a contest?

People of the Internet, what should I name my fabulously girly sparkly purple laptop?

While I reserve the right to use none of these things, award no prize, and just go haring off on my own, the suggester of a winning laptop name will be awarded some actual fabulous prize which I will think up when I'm not at work and append to the end of this entry once I've figured it out. Let's call the closing on this midnight on Friday, just to give it some good and solid time. As always, showing your work is appreciated.

ETA: Okay, methinks the prize will be chocolate of some sort. Maybe something from Polidori.

Go forth, my pretties! Fly!
From today's Toronto Star:

The hard driving, florid-faced Sam McBride (1928–29 and 1936) was a swaggering, two-fisted, red-blooded mayor who would beat up councillors he didn't like. McBride would knock aldermen around the council chamber, or pin them up against walls, even swat them with sheaves of documents.


...two-fisted mayor.

I will buy a whole pitcher for the person who draws me a Sam McBride: Two-Fisted Mayor comic.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (8:09:14 PM): Dashiell Hammett has solved my plotting problem.
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (8:09:17 PM): There is nothing he can't do.
[livejournal.com profile] matociquala (8:09:55 PM): He's like Chuck Norris
[livejournal.com profile] stillsostrange (8:09:57 PM): Can he fix my scene?
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (8:10:01 PM): I'm sure he could.
[livejournal.com profile] stillnotbored (8:10:14 PM): Can he finish my book while I work?
[livejournal.com profile] cristalia (8:10:33 PM): (Dashiell Hammett's tears cure cancer, but he's written in omni objective so you never know if he's crying on the inside.)


I read The Maltese Falcon this week. I am not over the ways in which that book is completely fucking awesome and I hope to never be over it. And yes, I picked up The Thin Man this afternoon.

This has been not a book report, but a *glee*.
leahbobet: (milk?)
In 2009, cristalia resolves to...
Cut down to ten psycholinguistics a day.
Tell my family about superheroes.
Become a better cheese.
Give up b-movies.
Learn to play the existentialism.
Connect with my inner sushi.






Get your own New Year's Resolutions:


And now I am going to meet [livejournal.com profile] ksumnersmith to see Mew. And, incidentally, to connect with our inner sushi.
Headache, exhaustion, and Dayjob insanity continue. Send pain meds and rescue dogs.

I do have reviews for you, though:

[livejournal.com profile] cassiphone at [livejournal.com profile] lastshortstory does a year-end of Shadow Unit, and has kind words for Sugar.

Rich Horton's also done a Shadow Unit roundup.

[livejournal.com profile] ase is decidedly unfond of "Bliss". Actually, it shocks me that that anthology is still kicking around, getting reviews.

Now I must clear some stuff out of this inbox even though my head hurts, because the Fountain Pen Hospital catalogue came tonight, and I promised myself that if I was good I could take it to bed with me (bow chicka wow wow).
Today was a psychotically busy awesome crazy totally awesome day.

Was up way early, after really not enough sleep at all, to head out to Stratford and the Stratford Shakespeare Festival to see the closing performance of Macbeth. Reason I had to do this urgently? It's Colm Feore as Macbeth and Geraint Wyn Davies as Duncan. Yes! Pierre Trudeau murders Nick Knight* for the throne of Scotland! How could I not see this?

It was a little more of the declamation style of doing Shakespeare than the naturalistic style, which I prefer, but the change of era/setting worked: they did it in a 1960s sort of Central African setting rather than the medieval Scotland. I wasn't sure about this initially. But it really, really served the text well, and illuminated some things about said text for me that I hadn't actually fully realized before, so I'm thinking that move was a total success. The staging wasn't that interesting in the first half (went up to about Banquo's ghost at the banquet) but they did some things with quick changes, wardrobe choices, flitting back and forth between places/times while retaining actors onstage, lighting, and establishing place with four flatscreen TVs mounted on the pillars of the stage, with various scenery or stuff on them, that really made the stage design a totally active part of the experience in the second half; something that really informed the production.

Also, the guy who played Macduff brought me to tears in the good way. And the guy who played the Porter was freaking hilarious. Hats off.

From there, made it home at 6:30 or so feeling tired, a bit travel-smelly, and with ultimate low blood sugar. After eating and shower, I wasn't sure if I was actually going to make it out for Halloween tonight, but [livejournal.com profile] ksumnersmith, [livejournal.com profile] dolphin__girl, and [livejournal.com profile] cszego persuaded me out of doors. Sadly, I didn't have time to make my superawesome Halloween costume idea, so I just threw together some stuff from the closet (including the 1920s Girl Detective Death Hat) and achieved a creditable Raymond Chandler Femme Fatale/Girl Reporter thing. Apparently I do own bright red lipstick and it actually looks good on me. Fancy that.

Mostly we nosed through Church St. and then down to Queen and John, looking for somewhere we could go dancing. It was late enough that the lineups were huge and Sarah eventually had to head home due to early work tomorrow, but a bit after midnight I fortituously ran into Friend Mike, who tipped us off about a party the Silver Snail was hosting nearby. And that was an awesome party. We danced our butts off. I saw both a friend from the Star Wars lineup who I haven't seen in four years at least and a guy I did theatre with in high school, who I haven't seen in at least nine. I had a gin martini and held it sassily in my lace-gloved Femme Fatale/Girl Reporter hand, which was a life goal for this evening in this costume. We know where we're going next year.

Packed it in around last call, not sure whether the streetcars were running because it was either 2am or 1am, and while the TTC usually runs until 2am, we weren't sure how they were counting that tonight. We ended up walking up Spadina** and finally catching the Vomit Comet*** homewards. And it is a lovely night and cool, and there were still bunches of people on the streets laughing and chatting and singing, and really, this was a good day and I love my town.

And now it is the second hour between midnight and one, which only comes once a year and is a kinda special hour for me. I'll explain it one day. Or won't. Either way. But I am tired and happy and my black lace gloves are all covered in gin and need washing badly, and I must wrap this up and take myself to bed.


*Oh wow, and in looking those links up I just realized that Geraint Wyn Davies played Bill Davis in the Trudeau miniseries. That's...just kind of gloriously fucked up.

**Okay, for me it was a little more weaving than walking. It was a strong gin martini. It went to the head.

***For those who are Not Torontonians: the all-night Yonge Street bus. Many, many people go home from clubs on it every weekend. Hence the name.

November 2016

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