fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
via [ profile] rm: I found this delightful piece of nausea inducing vitriol from the mouth of author, John C. Wright. It's one of the most offensive things I've ever read. More so even than Orson Scott Card, which is saying something.

It's also really charming to see names I recognize from various fandoms (Star Wars being a particular offender) agreeing with this crap. I knew these folk wrote het, but I didn't realize it was from hate as opposed to "I just happen to ship this."

[ profile] faris_nallaneen: we were eying some of his books the other day in B&N. I think we can safely say avoid, yes?

If you too wish to express dismay with the power of your pocketbook, here's a list of all his works.


Aug. 8th, 2009 06:42 pm
fictional: (Default)
Theory: All these DDoS attacks are from, I dunno, Iran? This is revenge for the Social Network Triumph of 2009, i.e. TWEET AGAINST THE REGIME or something.

In conclusion: LET ME BACK ON LJ, YOU HACKING ASSHATS. I am going insane.


Aug. 8th, 2009 06:42 pm
fictional: (Default)
Theory: All these DDoS attacks are from, I dunno, Iran? This is revenge for the Social Network Triumph of 2009, i.e. TWEET AGAINST THE REGIME or something.

In conclusion: LET ME BACK ON LJ, YOU HACKING ASSHATS. I am going insane.
fictional: (palin master)
So... courtesy of [ profile] faris_nallaneen, I see that Sarah Palin has resigned??? I can see four possibilities, all of which are bad.

Possibility 1: Lots (okay, two. But still) of top Alaskan health officials resigned recently. Is Alaska about to experience some form of plague that will eventually take over the planet? Is swine flu really polar bear flu? (Plague = bad. ETA: At least it's an island. SON OF ETA: Er...No. I am just terminally stupid. And I know no geography. Hey, I'm from New York! Cut me some slack.)

Possibility 2: Some horrible sex/drugs/embezzlement scandal about to surface, and Palin thinks she will preemptively kill the story by resigning now. (If this works = MIGHT BE REALLY BAD, because we'll never hear what happened! Inquiring minds want to know!)

Possibility 3: THERE IS NO PLAN and her dipshittery just finally escaped all bonds. (If this is true, we'll never find out if it was really 1 or 2 = definitely really bad.)

Possibility 4: This is the beginning of what Fox News seems to think will be an unfettered run at the presidency - in which case, world: watch out. Swine flu may be as nothing compared to this.

Okay, I'm going back to this &*%$%#@ chapter now. Once it is done, perhaps I can come back to TRULY IMPORTANT STUFF like fic writing/reading, these radio plays that everyone is so excited for and NEW TORCHWOOD. Also talking to real live people. I miss you guys! Yay! And a review of the spectacular Coraline: the Musical.

I was really hoping I could retire this icon. Alas.
fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
This has clearly been a poor time to not be on the internets! But alas. While I was otherwise occupied, it seems amazon has been, well, having epic fail. Which sucks, for many, many reasons but is also hugely irritating because I FUCKING LOVE BUYING BOOKS FROM AMAZON. And is also sad, because okay, evil, corporate, whateverthefuck, fine. I'm used to it. We're all freaking used to it, aren't we? But aside from being bigoted, it's also insane. Because it is not good business practice to try not to sell books if you're, you know, a book shop. And sex has been selling for a long time, my friends. And teh gay? ALSO DOING PRETTY WELL, especially of late. Also, James Baldwin? Come on.

And another thing, glaring incompetance at handling the internet from an internet company. This is web 2.0, folks. Did you think that if you just ignored it, people were just going to shut up and go away??? Um, no. This is the internet; being outraged is its hobby. Ditto writers, critics, fans, etc... and all of them have access to keys, and big, loud, cybervoices. Snuggling under easter eggs and hoping problem vanishes = no good. Sigh. Anyway, y'all have heard this already from a myriad of places that are not me, so I will stfu. But yeah. You know the drill, write email, sign the petition. Speak up!

Summing up my thoughts pretty successfully are the salon broadsheet and [ profile] bodlon's post, where he also discusses the bias implicit in the way queer stuff is considered more "adult" than equivalently explicit straight material.

In other news: my dad is bad-tempered, tired and discomposed by various bodily functions not quite operating via standard parameters. I'll just leave it at that.

Last weekend, we had the cousin-brother invasion. God, so many of my boys in one wee nyc apartment. It was insane, oldest + wife, another one + boyfriend, and the second to youngest. Plus me and D. of course. All the boys put to work moving sofas, dressers, chairs etc. D. was an enormous hit, as he is immensely handy, and also I think they all have little boy crushes on him. Some more platonic than others. The one with the boyfriend, the boyfriend and I did a fair amount of non-platonic heckling at any rate. Fun times.

My dad, of course, decided he wanted to also move things. And mop the floor. I became afraid he was going to have to be physically restrained, but instead after a few minutes of exertion, he simply fell asleep.

I tried to help with the moving of things, but was held back by a horrid pinched nerve or something in my back, which has been going on for a week now in what I can only describe as fluctuating between excruciating agony and bearable pain. I have an appointment with a chiropractor today. I've never been to one before, and am terribly nervous.

Last night I couldn't sleep and watched Bright Young Things. David Tennant plays unsympathetic really well, it's amazing. (I also am beginning to think that the Doctor is the sanest of his many roles. Frightening thought.) Anyway, it's a fun time, this flick, even with the too-hollywood romantic ending. And the actors! Spectacular, one and all.

Then I had terrible nightmares about byzantine intrigue and magical plots and wormholes surrounded by green and blue rubber bands. If the bands were cut: apocalypse. My father had the scissors, and cut them as I begged and pleaded with him not to.

My subconscious is terribly boring these days, don't you think?
fictional: (Cowboy)
Best name for a group ever? Or best, best name for a group ever?

A Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women is planning a protest against some wingnut right wing group which has been assaulting young women for going to pubs, and is planning on using V-day as an excuse to attack some more in their attempt to compensate for their small dicks effort to be the morals police.

Man, V-day so not my thing, but these ladies seem pretty awesome:

It does not matter that many of us have not thought about Valentine’s Day since we were 13. If ever. This year, let us send the Sri Ram Sena some love. Let us send them some PINK CHADDIS*. Look in your closet or buy them cheap. Dirt-cheap. Make sure they are PINK. Send them off to the Sena.


What happens after Valentine’s Day?

After Valentine’s Day we should get some of our elected leaders to agree that beating up women is ummm… AGAINST INDIAN CULTURE.

I feel proud!

*chaddis: colloquialism for underwear.
fictional: (palin master)
First, there were the PUMAs. Have you guys heard about these folks? PUMA apparently stands for Party Unity My Ass, (??? Really?) and they seem to be American feminists women of a certain age who feel utterly betrayed by the election, and spend a lot of time totting up grievances about who has suffered more, people of color, or women? (And what about female people of color? They don't seem too bothered. The sisterhood, it seems, doesn't contain them; it doesn't even seem to occur to them that it ought to...?)

In all seriousness, they actually seem certifiably nuts.

I spent a good portion of today rubbernecking the traincrash reading [ profile] palinpumawatch and clicking on through to associated links. Whoa. If you don't want it filtered, go straight to Reclusive Leftist and look around. I think the mod, Violet Socks, or whatever is a deranged fruit-bat, but the real gold (or tragedy, depending on how you look at it) is in the comments, and the community being fostered. Here is a pre-election sample. At first I was mesmerized (and enraged!) but then -- I began to see the heartbreak of it. Because, from my reading, these seem to be women who have sad, sad lives. They talk about marital discord. They talk about giving up everything for their families (occasionally in really bad poetry.) They are among the casualties of the system, right? And their lives are ordinary, and seemingly filled with a host of claustrophobic, petty disappointments. And so this neo-con cult of aggressive mediocrity (Exhibit A: Not!Joe the War Correspondent1) is going to be terribly appealing to them. Something that makes a virtue out of victimhood, that places all the blame for everything terrible that has happened to them squarely on the shoulders of someone else -- much like Sarah Palin, and her post-election, 2012 prep interviews that accuse everyone of being so unfair. At least the bizarrely named NiceDeb who actually compared Obama to Hitler (!!!) is the most offensively wingnut of conservatives; these other ladies seem to be left-leaning? Or believe that they are left leaning? But I don't think the word means what they think it means. Much like their beloved Hillary being named "secretary" of state? Because some of them don't seem to like the idea. Why? Not just too little, too late, but ...the idea of being a man's secretary? ...kinda sticks in the craw, doesn't it???

Um. No.

And yet, there's legitimacy in their quarrel with the world, right? Hasn't socialism/communism failed women in a stunning myriad of ways? Of course it has, just like capitalism, and well, basically every system in the world. It's a sexist world, no question.

And then I started thinking about feminism. Third wave? Radical? Sex positive? Post-feminist? What is the place of feminism in my philosophy?

I mean, not the PUMA way, obviously. Voting the other way for McCain and his "women's health" and Palin, who is NOT a feminist, saying that abortion wouldn't be necessary if young girls weren't "sluts" (yeah, these PUMAs are really pretty weird), dissing on Michelle Obama, who is just pretty awesome, even if she's got the most thankless (if prestigious) unpaid job in the world, AND voting against the man who not only supports a woman's right to choose, and you know, equal pay for equal work, and incidentally, say what you will, is closing down Gitmo, and trying to make government transparent, and is shutting down the secret CIA prisons round the world [And that's just the first three days in office!] cannot be considered left or feminist, in my opinion.

But what can? How do we appropriately deal with a climate of institutionalized and internalized sexism?

Unrelatedly -- but to close with a taste of awesome, via [ profile] rm, author Cathrynne M. Valente makes this post of sheer poetry about our new world.

1 I don't even like Rick Sanchez, but I must admit to enjoying that clip. But this begs another question. I love participatory culture. I think the ability of the internet to give ordinary people a voice, and an impact on affairs is staggering, and awesome (in the old, non-valley sense of the word). And yet, (oh god, am i agreeing with Sarah Palin?) -- we shouldn't be getting our news from blogs! Because there's a difference between reading people's opinions (the Op-Ed page, the Editorials) and the actual news! Is it wrong to want journalists to be, you know, trained? I don't think I've got any right to go to Gaza and be a war correspondent...! And I'd like my president to be smarter than me. I mean, the problem with majority rule is that the majority of people kinda suck, don't they? But if we agree that the Great Man theory of history is wrong...? ...Although ever seen a movement succeed without some stellar spear-heading? I just go back and forth on it all the time. But this just leads me back to one of my central problems -- how does one unite a desire for excellence with an allegiance to the interests of the common person? And the old problem of communism - what is it that binds the intelligentsia and the workers together? But this is another post, for another day...
fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
Last night I dreamt that I couldn't sleep. All night long.

I was in an uncomfortable bed at a friend's house; the walls kept closing in. Lights were on. The walls were brightly colored - salmon, I think. People kept moving in and out of the room.

What new torture is this? I don't know how I'll be able to deal with dream-insomnia, for fuck's sake.

Also, my head has turned into an enormous vessel of snot. I am so sick. That's not a dream. I don't think. Unless I'm not actually posting this, in which case the end must be fucking nigh.

Jungian analysis, please?
fictional: (academic)
So. If you looked up procrastination in the dictionary, you would NOT therein find a picture of me, because I would've thought, eh, tomorrow's soon enough to send it in, no?


I have vowed to not sleep before finishing this paper. It is on Doctor Who. WHY CAN I NOT CONCENTRATE FOR MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES AT A TIME? WHY???

In the last two days, I have a) not done anything fun, and b) also not done anything productive. I have, however, read the ridiculous lj comms about lifestyle master/slaves, read the NY Times, written some fanfic, read the Guardian, read post secret, refreshed LJ 14 squintillion times, drank a whole lot of red bull.

My life is so glamorous.

Comfort me with apples. Or you know, encouragement.

I beg of you.

...Maybe I should take a bath.
fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
Dude. I hereby put forth a motion that today (well, yesterday now, I guess) should be eradicated from time and space. SRSLY. It was an enormous clusterfuck from start to finish, and ended with, well... you can read about it here.

For all of this, I was lugging around my school stuff, plus an extremely heavy three volume set of Alan Moore erotica. That's the punchline to something, but I don't know what. "There isn't a part of me that doesn't hurt."1

Let's just say Rach's and my story meeting did not exactly go as planned. *laughs* On the other hand, somewhere between low blood sugar, MTA fuckery, the paucity of cabs in New York very not at its finest, and oh yeah, THE HOSPITAL, we did actually manage to solve some stuff. Now, that's dedication, right?

So, Iceland collapsing, world financial system in havoc, sickness all around, the fucking election: there's chaos and horror everywhere I turn, it feels like. The one thing to hold on to, is that my little chosen family, my clan - we seem to face it all with black humour, and chin up, and oh, am I fucking grateful for that.

I'm so proud to be a part of it. I JUST WISH WE COULD CATCH A FUCKING BREAK. Just a little breather. Is that so much to ask? Jesus.

I am so tired, I can barely see.

1 That's just never going to stop being funny.
fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
I forgot to mention that while in DC, we had a little adventure, which I thought I ought to document for y'all.

We were walking down the hill from Adams-Morgan (where my cousin lived before leaving for London to take on his new job at The Economist) to Dupont Circle.

The dramatis personae: me, my cousin, and [ profile] hofnarr, who for those of you who don't know - is tall, has got light brown hair, green eyes, and if he'd lived in Germany at the appropriate time, could've been a poster boy for Aryan pride (He grew a moustache once, and I called him "Franz" until he shaved it off. I am not always the nicest person in the world, but that's another story entirely.) My cousin, like myself, might also be described as Aryan, I suppose - but of a different stripe entirely, since we're Indian. Short, dark-skinned, etc. etc.

On our way, we happened to pass by the First Church of Scientology.

Visitors Welcome, proclaimed the sign outside. We eyed each other curiously, and then decided this was an opportunity that should not be passed over lightly.

We went in. Pictures of Hubbard's house everywhere. Past the foyer, I could see something with curved computer banks; it looked utterly futuristic, all white and blue, and blinking.

There was a girl at the reception desk; she said, "Hello," and her voice cracked nervously. We said we were tourists, and had heard a lot about this place, and thought we'd stop by.

She said we could have a tour; she pressed a button under her desk, and asked for a guide to report to the desk. We heard voices upstairs, but no one arrived. She kept jabbing at the button like it was a panic button or something.

We waited. Then finally, a gentleman appeared. He did not address me, or my cousin directly. He did however shake [ profile] hofnarr's hand, and pressed upon him a business card. He did not give us the tour, but gently indicated that we might prefer to leave - and perhaps visit the Hubbard Museum instead.

If we had wanted to drink the koolaid, we couldn't have. Except for [ profile] hofnarr.

These are the facts. Conclusions? I leave that for you.
fictional: (doctor phone)
So, I just had to make a quick [read 3 hours] dash to the New College Which Must Not Be Named. (I may need a new fandom-specific name for this one: thoughts? Prydonian Academy will not do, as I fear it will not be all happy, happy, joy, joy.) It was frantic because I'd not read the email closely, and I was just checking it to make sure I was getting certain notations right in my syllabus, and then I realized that we were *ahem* requested & required to make an appearance at a New Faculty Tea. At 3pm. It was 2:10pm when I was reading the email. SO I dashed out the door, armed with laptop (so I could work on the subway, always fun, and I ended up just writing more story instead, bad kali! no biscuit!) and ran like the hounds of hell were chasing me down to the college.

Only to discover that it was totally useless. It was in fact, just tea. (Literally tea. And lemon cake. and ice cream - none of which I ate.) Dunno what they made such a big deal about it for; it was completely insipid, and also not net-worky. Just to produce the illusion that we are all collegial colleagues, with spirit Feh. And if I have to hear once more: "Oh, you teach children's literature! You're so lucky!" I might throw something. I'm not lucky, okay? I've got balls and attack ovaries, and therefore enough guts to actually study things I like, rather than things which look respectable. Luck has got nothing to do with it! ANYWAY. I did get some writing done, which was okay, and on my way home, I stopped at the bookstore to see if my texts for the class had arrived, and didn't even have to go downstairs because I saw a bunch of college boys coming out with them all in their hands. One of them was cute too! He looked exactly like Lex Luthor from Smallville. Dunno what I'm gonna do with that.

In conclusion, a rec. This is a Doctor Who vid; it's called Handlebars, and I think it is incredible. The song choice is impeccable and fits the Doctor in all his breathtaking arrogance and fundamental glee so perfectly, but with all that, there's an underlying irony; the glee is undercut throughout by notes of anguish that just made me want to cry, even as my mouth hung open in awe. It's the kind of vid that is so very clean, you almost can't see all the work the vidders did to make it work. Spoilers through 4x13: Journey's End. Go check it out!
fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
First, let me say, in the spirit of counting one's blessings before getting on to cataloguing the curses: I really do like my apartment. It's got a study for me (although I never use it, really - somewhere along the way, I've turned into a work-on-the-couch kinda girl, but my beautiful, jam packed bookshelves are there), and it's got a balcony where D. smokes his cigarettes and stares off into the distance - great for summer storm watching, and also to hang up the party twinkly lights, and I, [ profile] magnetgirl + boyfriend and [ profile] faris_nallaneen all painted the walls a gorgeous pale green and dark brown and a sort of goldy-cream & we hung fawn/silver striped curtains. It's a very nice flat, especially for NYC.


Not all of them, I hasten to add. Not the lovely Greek family who lives on the left. They are awesome, and also, the lady of the house is the VP of the co-op board, and her very charming, old, grandfatherly husband is so great; always waits till I get my door unlocked in the hallway, as if wanting to be there to help me if I need it - not sure what he could do in an emergency, since he looks to have the approximate tensile strength of a dry, thin twig, but it's very thoughtful and sweet. There's also a young sorta Rastafarian couple down the hall, who seem cool but keep themselves to themselves. The Asian family down the hall, also perfectly respectable.

BUT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A CRACKER - everyone else. Let me see.

First: Stalker Dave, who used to make a habit of ringing our buzzer @ 3am, asking to be let in. Now I am often up at that hour, but really. Also, kept leaving me excessively odd notes, and the odd plant, and coming out into the hallway whenever I opened my door, making small talk while I waited for the elevator, and then going back into his apartment. Maybe if you had a Southern accent, buddy, I could've bought that, but you don't. Told me I "saved his life" because he "was making pasta when [he] shouldn't have been" and had to take the pot outside, and forgot his keys. ???? At 4 am. Yeah. It was weird. D.'s still pretty adamant on getting a baseball bat (since I put my foot down on the gun issue).

Second. Dude down the hall is convinced that the phantom smell of cigarette smoke that lingers in the hallway is us, smoking in our apartment that, for the record, we own, and keeps putting "Quit smoking" propaganda under our door, so that sometimes we can't actually get the door open because of the wedge. Also hanging up HUGE posterboard signs in the hallway, with our apartment # on them, with gigantic notes requesting us to quit smoking. Today I came home to this gem:
Apt. # [redacted],
Please stop smoking inside the apt. It can be smelt from the 2nd floor stairwell + and is most strong in front of your apt,.. If Apt. [redacted] can quit smoking, you can too. It is best for all concerned, including most of all, you. OR request door jamb smoke excluders from the mgmt.

NATURALLY no signature, because if you're going to do something like that, why not be a fucking anonymous coward about it, eh? I've complained to the mgmt about this guy, and they were very nice, and say that he's done this to other folk, and I actually thought he'd *ahem* quit doing it after the last time, but apparently not. I don't know what the hell they can do to stop it, but it is incredibly infuriating, ESPECIALLY since, as you may recall, D. (who is the smoker, I have maybe 4 cigarettes a year) always smokes either on the balcony (as aforesaid) or sometimes in inclement weather, by a window with the fan blowing out. Not that it matters, because not even if we stood in our foyer and blew smoke out the door crack into the hallway on purpose, would this guy have a leg to stand on. Also, remember the nice Greek family I mentioned before? The nice grandfatherly gentleman had a heart bypass just before we moved here, and according to his wife [the co-op VP], no longer smokes. We learned this when she was very kindly expressing her sympathies for the harassment. Of course, it came as something of a surprise to us to hear this, because we see him in the stairwell in front of our apartment all the time, smoking on the sly. Now of course we're not going to blow up this nice old man's spot; it's his heart, after all, and he can do what he likes. BUT IT IS SO AGGRAVATING. Just the sight of one of these notes now has the effect of sending me into a fucking tizzy of pissed offness.

fictional: (whiskey tango foxtrot)
Secret #184 from [ profile] fandomsecrets today was something I think I always suspected about fandom at large. It still made me want to cry.


fictional: (Cowboy)
OMG just had war with ginormous flying cockroach! AHHHH!

It just would not die! We eventually had to vacuum up its still twitching body, and are now desperately afraid that we only managed to stun it, and now it's biding its time in the bowels of the vacuum cleaner plotting revenge. That or pregant with a million cockroach babies that are going to pour out of the hose next time we try and vacuum something.

I'm too squicked though to actually open up the vacuum cleaner and dispose of the remains. So is [profile] hofnarr
Also, is there ever only ONE cockroach?
fictional: (Default)
The department apparently takes this all Very Seriously. They have called, are reporting the incident, are concerned about suicide, etc. etc.

They have also discovered that said student's contact number is in fact, her boyfriend's (the alleged kidnapper).

Student is still MIA and has not responded.

Possibility 1: I am a cynical, horrible excuse for a compassionate human being, and this person is actually in phenomenal amounts of trouble and/or dead.

Possibility 2: I am a cynical, horrible excuse for a compassionate human being, and this person has seriously unleashed a can of worms upon themselves that I don't think they were intending to.

I feel kind of bad over the whole thing.

A New Low

Nov. 15th, 2007 11:54 am
fictional: (Default)
One of our students has now claimed that they were kidnapped and held captive by their boyfriend and this is why they have not been attending class.


This was the information provided after an email sent to them, informing them that they had been absent for about ten days and were in danger of repeating the course.

Question: Did their boyfriend allow them to come to the keyboard just to respond to this query?

I weep for humanity.

I also wonder if this job is making me unduly cynical. But seriously. Kidnapped???


fictional: (Default)

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