fuzzylobsters' Journal
(Latest 20 entries) (Calendar) (Friends) (User info)
Navigate: (Previous 20 entries)
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I cracked the screen last Saturday, and my darling laptop is still languishing in the shop. The repair person keeps joking that they call them Toughbooks not because they're hard to break, but that they're tough to get the parts for to fix. Damn. I'm feeling sort of twitchy.
So I'm right now reading fanfiction slash porn at a Library. Alas, it is unlikely to sufficiently quell my cravings. Wah.
Current mood:  distressed
Thursday, January 21, 2010
2010, even more than 2001, sounds entirely science-fictiony to me. (Yes I know I'm late with this hackneyed observation!)
(Note to self: re-read Arthur C. Clarke's 2010. Other note to self: wait, will it be disappointing? When I was someteen I was thrilled that there was a bisexual in it, but was that the only appeal? Unless I'm thinking of that one on the tropical-paradise planet, Songs of Distant Earth. I was both entranced and had a subtle feeling of wrongness about that phrase about the leonine youth who is desired by "all of the girls and half of the boys", in that one... )
Anyhow! So, where are the handy particle beams or nanobots or whatever to zap away my Dad's emphysema? He's finally well enough (after another bout of pneumonia) to start practicing walking again - if he could draw a deep enough breath to fuel actual exertion. The guy quit smoking soon after his wife died, and stayed off the stuff despite 40 prior years of cigarettes, isn't that impressive enough of an accomplishment to somehow change his fate? Yeah, I know it doesn't work like that. Foo. `Course he just switched his addiction to antiques, but at least that did not, I think, detriment his health. His credit, yes, but not his health.
Feh. This future is a bit lacking. I'm sure everyone is tired of hearing whining about the dearth of robot maids, too.
(Yeah, I want a robot maid.)
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Not that my Dad has died as of yet. Nor anyone that I am close with, to my knowledge. But lolling about today I had a bit of discomfort with the concept. The sort of feeling that I imagine leads to sincere and desperate belief in deity or deities. Lying there, knowing my father is probably fairly close to death, and also knowing that it's unlikely I will bear any child. I now better get the notion, I think, of having of your genetically-related progeny carry something of your you into the future.
But it hasn't come to that pass as of yet! :D I shall let you-all know if my smug agnosticism crumbles, or if I decide to get knocked up before the ol' ovaries conk out. Oof, the latter would involve some medical intervention at this point.
I was visiting dear Papa on Wednesday night at the Helen Hayes hospital, which is dedicated to rehabilitating people after surgery and strokes and whatnot. When I arrived, his favorite diner waitress and her family, some of whom Dad has employed for chores about the house, were there. And he (Dad) was sort of gasping, trembling and not cogent. Apparently this had just started a couple of minutes ago.
As my progenitor smoked for, what was it, 50 years? it's not very surprising that he has emphysema. So any little lung-hampering cold, such as he had apparently developed, can become life threatening, diminishing the already slight supply of oxygen he's able to draw in. Helen Hayes hospital doesn't have the capacity to deal with that, so he was shifted to Nyack hospital. And he's doing rather better, but is still there. Oh and, if I'm going to get there before visiting hours are over, I best get going now. Mayhap more writing exercises later, dear list of friends and friendly acquaintances.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Writing exercise time again! It's been a busy few days.
Dear old Dad is in hospital again, so I have gotten to reduce the ambient temperature at the house, more so while I'm out, such as this weekend to meet my Sweetie Fruit, in NY. I do wish it would dang well warm up now that I'm home, however!
Well, at least he isn't out in the snow about to fall and break a hip. Because he already is in the hospital, having fallen on Wednesday evening and fractured the head of his femur, the top knobbity part at the joint. It could have been much worse, I suppose, the first pronouncement was that he had indeed fractured his hip proper.
The head was replaced in surgery on Friday by a shiny new one, and he was supposed to be walking around on Saturday. Don't think he did - I'll have to inquire as to whether he was on his feet today. After this he's off to a quality re-hab center in Nyack, NY. ( It is a relief, )
Current mood: ambilvilent Current music: Nova
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Edit: I found the Duchess's number and called. He was sincerely "Yay!" in response soooo... my little goodbye, I'm hurt and angry, I guess you're fading me out script was a bit displaced. Er... so. He's going to call me back when not in the middle of Best Buy. No he wouldn't have time before catching the midnight plane! Maybe we can schedule some time to meet and fuck.
Gee, I think I need something cathartic and/or distracting to soothe my het-up system before he calls back... whew. Not sure how to feel...
=============================
Well, I have been writing, but not posting - midway through a new story. A character of my own and I'm wondering how many of my own idiosyncratic exclamations to use! It would be easiest to make this person me under another name, of course. Hmmm. I'm calling him Anton, as that's a nice name and found in several languages... plus it's in honor of one of my fave authors, Robert Anton Wilson. I think he wouldn't exactly be thrilled at being used in an mpreg story. Heh. Maybe amused, well I hope!
So haven't been neglecting the writing exercises, quite.
Here, however, I will whine. Warning: Whining!
Last night I would've drunk-dialed if I could've found the Dutchess's phone number. ( Er, not that I drink. )
Current mood: scared, indecisive, irked
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Writing exercises continue - and actual writing! I've posted a smidge over at my Deviant Art account. I'll link to it eventually from here, I'm thinking. I have a bit of a strategy to hopefully secure some readership.
Hanging out at my SweetieFruit's, my usual perch on the swooning couch. Watching the Wiz on my Fruit's cable, as I've never gotten to see it before. I note that the "danger!" music in the subway is similar, with baying horns, to the original Star Trek "danger!" music, tee hee. However we will be leaving for the gym shortly so again, I will be missing the Wiz. Foo. OH, fun sets! Oh my, the costurmes, they're hitting the emerald city. Great camera on legs! Hmm, the lighting is a bit murky in this, that's a bit annoying.
As mentioned, cable. My Sweetie has it, I do not, so it's an enticing novelty. The channel is usually LOGO or Animal Planet. Last night was a documentary on a comedian, oh gee, what was the name. My fruit supplies the documentary name - thanks Plummy! "Ebony Chunky Love" - and I found the name Keith Prince by googling that. And I like Prince's stuff, rather. But I'm gonna latch on something to complain about. ;)
He said at one point "Bisexual - you know that's on the way to gay".
And heck, this ticks me off. Guess I've been on the way since I was, uh 12 or so when I applied that term to myself. 27 years later it seems like I"m taking the scenic route to gay. :D
Very scenic! Especially as "bi" isn't at all adequate. There's way more than two genders, or physical sexes, that I happen to be attracted to. Multi-sexual seems closer to me, and that's what I seem to have shifted to. That's another thing in Mr. Prince's statement, the implied superiority of one fixed sexual orientation, that irks me a heck of a lot. Foo.
Current music: Evilina's theme, "Don't Bring me No Bad News"
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Writing exercises continue! Here goes... Happy day off, to those who have one. :)
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, well I hope I remember how. At my brother's, indulging in an unusual fit of chefery. Cooking's fun, on occasion, and when I don't have to do it.
The (free-range) turkey is already smelling good, or at least the stock, wine and savory vegetables are giving off alluring fumes. And I'm about to research possible uses for the celery root I bought at the Lincoln Square greenmarket. Some of the leaves are among the veggies loosely stuffed in the bird's interior, in lieu of celery per se. Sure hope that substitution, and the others I'm contemplating, doesn't come back to bite me in the poultry-butt.!
`K, back to business. Putting on some Grateful Dead, I heard them via my brother's record collection in my youth, and of course nostalgia is part and parcel of this Thanksgiving business. Playing the original albums with short-format songs, not endless noodling of their concerts, because that would be enraging, not a relaxing sing-along. The "American Beauty" album seems appropriate, in an ironic way (of course).
Bread stuffing ahoy! I'd say back to the Imperialism Day preparations but, uh, maybe that's a better term for Columbus Day. Oh what am I saying, every day is Imperialism Day!!
Current mood: Enjoying kitchen witching Current music: Ripple
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
On with the writing exercises! This is fun so far! I kinda don't mind talking about myself and this is not dissimilar.
----------------------------------------------
Prayer pt. 2 - Pelted by prayer
Thinking about the bit in the previous post, well, I sort of hope that prayer doesn't work. Surely I'd be dead by now what with various people of faith ardently wishing that upon me. Or possibly worse, I'd no longer be a sinner. Foo on that!
Certainly I'd be confused and possibly torn asunder. Even if no one is petitioning her/his/hir deity to change my personal specific sinning ways, there's enough folks out there sending out more general wishes towards those they feel are unenlightened, and of course they're urging quite a variety of agendas. Thus the confusion and pain, under the brunt of requests to deities pelting me from many directions.
Huh. Maybe those who succumb to mental illnesses are particularly susceptible to the power of prayer. Other people's, anyway. It's just too much, perhaps, for their - our - systems, being smacked around by the focused intent of so many different people. I'd like to think I'm not susceptible to something so irrational, but hey, clinically depressed here! With possibly the occasional manic-ish interlude. So, perhaps.
[I need another word for prayer!]
Current mood: melancholy whimsy
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Well, to hopefully relieve my nerves about my writing and its quality, I think I'll try posting a couple of minimally-edited paragraphs. Essays definitely, maybe fiction. Ever so once in a while. Target daily, though I'm not stressing that in my mind lest I then feel a need to sabotage it.
Prayer - I guess it probably couldn't hurt
With the aid of a pastor who taught me a lot about critical thinking, I concluded in my youth that Christianity didn't have a heck of a lot to offer me, or women in general. Said Pastor Luben, a really nifty person I thought, conceded that you have to take a leap of faith and I thought that's flinging myself into - what? A wholly men-dominated cosmos. As someone raised casually Protestant, there wasn't even a female saint or the Virgin Mary to latch onto onto. So I entered into a mini quest of a sort, researching religions for a while. I suppose my mother dying somewhen around then factored into all this, though I was resolutely Not Thinking About That. I ended up sort of smugly agnostic, reaching the conclusion that I'm too smart to be at all certain about any of this spiritual stuff.
I retain that conclusion, really. But an image from a novel by Robert Anton Wilson eventually stuck with me. I forget which book, maybe Shrodinger's Cat. The scene was a traffic accident, and Wilson picked out people stuck in the ensuing traffic jam. One who's so glad it wasn't her, another who's relieved to have an excuse for being late, and a whole bunch of people who are impatiently fretting, just wanting to move pass the obstacle. One person, a devout Christian who dedicates a lot of time to stomping down other people's rights, prays for the person trapped in the car. A beam of energy, generated through faith but actually emanating entirely from said Christian herself, bounces off the sky and to the victim and keeps that person's heart beating for a few crucial minutes.
That, and happening upon a study that indicated that seriously ill, randomly chosen sick people in hospital did rather better if people who did not know the patients prayed for them to recover, without their knowledge. This was regardless of the specific religion or faiths of any people involved. I came to think - well, I think perhaps the human mind is a lot more powerful than is generally supposed. It seems to me likely that any divinity that can be observed results from folks tapping into that. So, yeah, I do pray on some occasions. Unless I'm very very wrong, it can only help.
Current mood:  nervous Current music: Selections from the Dead Parrot Society
`K, I've got these fanfiction things. Mostly Sam and Max. Some Fregg, one new Lietro tribute to a comic I like a bunch, "Against All Odds".
And I've been working on some of them on and off for more than a year and I'm very afraid to post them because I have labored over them and therefore they count. So if no one likes them - or only dim sounding people like them - it will be rather a blow.
Not like most of my performances, frankly, which tend to be slapdash and therefore it's a pleasant surprise when they work out well. I exaggerate there, perhaps, but a) there's some effort here with the writing and b) unlike a performance, there's no deadline. I have just kept tweaking until giving up. Repeatedly.
Plus c) most of them reveal me as a serious perv. Now, this is something I pride myself on, mostly, but while blushing. I kind of have a `most anything is OK if it's done well' way of thinking. Generally meaning well crafted and also cognizant of real-life issues connected to whatever the kink and scenario is. But what if my stories aren't good enough? What if I'm not politically aware enough, and/or unable to get my awareness across in writing? Not that Issues should dictate my fantasy life in the least - but should effect my rendition of it for others, I think. Therefore my breathing is tight and hands shakey.
On the fourth hand, d) maybe hardly anyone will notice, should I post. Which will be disappointing. But safe.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Yes, perhaps I'm reading too much mediocre slash fanfiction. However, it has me wondering - does anyone actually cry out their co-canoodler's name (or someone else's name, for that matter) when coming? Anecdotes, observations, empirical evidence, anybody?
Current mood: incredulous Current music: "I'm Tender", Little Junior Parker (on Pandora)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Ugh: My sweetie-plum had the TV on a `Real Life' MTV show about young people who are struggling with being bi. Oh, the stupid, wrenchingly stupid drama.
Yay: I ordered a copy to have on hand to lend out, and found that there's a new edition of The Ethical Slut!
Uh...: The first edition had a cover that was just ugly. The new one's cover I find both ugly and sort of scary. Hopefully the contents will be as gorgeous and useful as the art is not...
Yipee: TV channel changed to Sponge Bob!
Current mood:  good but rushed
Monday, August 31, 2009
The sunset over the sand dunes is lovely - but I must stop watching and hustle on out of here if I'm to get to see
at 8pm:
www.zoelewis.com/ [warning - sound clip]
and to compete at 10pm in Ryan Landry's:
Showgirls!
$500 lolly for the latter - wish me luck!
===================
2am update -
Zoe Lewis as ever, fun, smart, quaint, tuneful!
Showgirls - gall, gall, bitter wormwoods! I didn't expect to win, really, but I didn't even make the finalist lineup. *pouts*
I did molest Margaret Cho with a squeaky lobster, however.
Current music: "the sneak" and "crazy", the tracks for my `lobster dance' !
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Well, no, actually I'll feel someone stabbing me in the face.
That's what I'm tempted to say at the dentist's. I've been spoiled, I think, by a cavity-free interlude that seemed to correlate with my getting cleanings/check ups quarterly, and haven't had to endure the anesthetic injection process recently. I have rather vulnerable teeth, it seems, so that's unusual for me. I probably have more filling than home-grown tooth at this juncture.
Well, happened to miss my last cleaning, during my two city sex tour. That's back in March. I never did reschedule, not until August... and I'm paying for my folly. Lo, the wages of lust: Two root canals.
Or rather, the wages of not re-scheduling promptly, as I very much doubt getting off decayed my teeth per se. Sigh. There is no way I could afford this without dental insurance, which I have, for a miracle. The last time I needed multiple crowns was in the 90's and I was only somewhat employed and I knew I couldn't have insurance because I kept the books. But I could do some stripping/lap dancing part time. Then Giuliani's administration closed that joint (the Harmony Burlesque), alas. Fortunately I'd earned some gold and put it in my molars by then!
Back to sleep, not that the codeine-laced-Tylenol seems to be having a soporific effect that I can tell. I must acknowledge my oral surgeon's skill today - I don't recall a more neutral experience while having a sharp object pierce my gum!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Nothing cancerous looking in the areas they looked at, yay!
Current music: Rockin' Blues, Chris Montez (on pandora, bless it)
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
No, literally.
Well, metaphorically, it is kind of fun, as I usually find it, to slide in and out of a big torus. Viz:
But heat-specific: this is the third time I can recall having one of these things and each time, warmth spread, emanating from the place where I'm punctured, the iodine oozing up the veins of my arm.
Then, abruptly, there's been heat in my labia. Then this last scan, oddly, my earlobes warmed up as well. I don't recall if that happened the last couple times. I do recall that flush of hot to my loins. I didn't come this time, alas.
Tomorrow I see the radiation-type way expert MD to be told what, if anything, has decided to grow at an indecorous pace lately. It's damn, wrenchingly, blessedly nice to have health insurance.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
On May 31st, unfortunately I do not get to see this, about one of the authors I admire most, though I don't always find his stuff easy to read. You wouldn't know Delaney's mostly written science fiction by the film description, hmm. I got to meet him as a guest to a summer class I took some years ago at NYU with José Esteban Muñoz (catching up on all the college credit I lost while being cronically depressed.) Damn he was hot. May 31 | 7 pm
Screening of The Polymath
2007, USA, video, color, sound, 75 min.
Union Docs | 322 Union Avenue | Brooklyn, NY 11211
Follow Samuel Delany (author of The Motion of Light in Water) to a literary conference where his books are compared to Joyce and Melville, then accompany him on a cheerful, row-by-row tour of a typical porn theater. Fred Barney Taylor's The Polymath includes home movies of Delany's middle-class Harlem childhood, a crazy art film he directed in the early 70s, and priceless trivia, like the fact that he wrote two issues of Wonder Woman for DC Comics in which she abandoned her superpowers and became a feminist secret agent. Post-event discussion w/ filmmakers. $5 donation. Reservations suggested. Email bodega@uniondocs.org for details. But, yay, because I intend to see this at WOW, 59-61 East 4th street, East village NYC ! Tragic Magic
Sunday, May 31, 2009
8pm, $15 suggested
Silas Howard, Glenn Marla, and Heather Acs.
This motley crew traverses through a multi-media world of string theory, face masturbation, Hollywood & loopholes in the American dream.
Current music: "In Time", Sly and the Family Stone, via Pandora.com
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
My aunt Nancy died this past winter. My father's older sister, and his only surviving sibling. They weren't close - not since she moved out of their childhood home in 195something, actually, he said. I mentioned that I thought that he might feel a lot more alone in the universe, now, and he did look a bit saddened, when I said it. Today's his birthday and thus another reminder of death... yes, I will bring chocolate home with me tonight.
( the family curse )
But I was appointed the archive-prep person. Aunt Nancy retained a number of items of her New England ancestors, and in particular, her father's, who was a cornetist and librarian for John Philip Sousa. A minor figure of American music, and a bit like me, you might say that he was famous among those who knew of him. However, Grandfather was in just about the most respectable line of showbusiness. Unlike me. :D
Navigate: (Previous 20 entries)
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
fuzzylobsters's journal