sovay: (Sydney Carton)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2025-06-29 09:52 pm

I don't change, I don't even notice the scene

As I hollered after the inapposite license plate of the SUV that had blown through the crosswalk without even thinking about stopping while we were in it, "Psalm 23? With that driving?" I am informed by [personal profile] spatch that the driver who actually had stopped for us like a normal person let out one of those whoaaa sounds as at a game of the dozens, which was extremely good recompense for almost being run over by an SUV whose Lord may have been a shepherd, but obviously not a crossing guard.

(The rest of this weekend has been different temperatures of garbage; I take my victories where I can. We were in West Medford to eat tamales on the bleachers of Playstead Park.)
rydra_wong: Lee Miller photo showing two women wearing metal fire masks in England during WWII. (Default)
rydra_wong ([personal profile] rydra_wong) wrote2025-06-29 01:54 pm
Entry tags:

PSA

Disco Elysium is currently 90% off in the Steam summer sale, making it a mere £3.49.

Play Disco Elysium, everybody. Yes, even if you don't play video games.

(It was the first video game I ever played -- apart from having once(?) played Pac Mac as a child, many many decades ago -- and it was a perfect choice.)

If you understand the principle of a Choose Your Own Adventure book, have a vague sense that "stats" and "levelling up" are things, and can grasp "click to go to a place/interact with an object," you are sufficiently equipped.
sovay: (Cho Hakkai: intelligence)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2025-06-27 09:22 pm

Waiting for you to call me up and tell me I'm not alone

After many travails and an extra plague year in transit, the latest of the Paleozoic Pals has made landfall from the Carboniferous.





My father adores his Diplocaulus salamandroides. My niece has been sent a picture of hers with its accompanying book, to be held in trust until her next visit. My mother has been presented with its enamel pin form, which is done in bands of lighter and darker purple instead of newt-like red and black. I had forgotten entirely about the stretch bonus of Bandringa rayi, whose spoonbill suggests the Amazon river dolphin of the Pennsylvanian period. I really am invested in the continued existence of the Paleontological Research Institution, which is one of the reasons I have gladly thrown in to its Kickstarters for almost ten years. The present being so very full of horror and stupidity, it is important that it can also produce such snuggable plush of the past.
moon_custafer: neon cat mask (Default)
moon_custafer ([personal profile] moon_custafer) wrote2025-06-27 09:07 am
Entry tags:

Dream Journal

Lots of scenarios, including a family reunion where I didn’t really know anyone, examining some white flowers growing by a wall, and various ghosts. There was a bit where the new pop-culture test for sexism in a movie was “how many times do we see the main female character get in or out of bed?” I was upset by the premise that someone in bed was inherently titillating to the audience, or that it could never be depicted in a non-erotic way. Then I was watching/experiencing the first episode of a new horror/supernatural anthology series, and thinking it had a parallel in my own past, because my family, when we lived in Japan for a while in the ‘eighties, had first moved into one house, found it “unsuitable” in some weird unspecified way, and then moved to the place that became our home for the rest of our time there. I never found out where the ghost story went, plotwise, but the ghost had quite a specific and detailed identity—a British South African named Neil Dacre who’d died sometime in the early ‘sixties. I’m not sure exactly how he’d died, but it was after a somewhat tempestuous life, career, and marriage. He was just walking into the room—through a closed door—looking exactly like the framed black-and-white photo of himself (at a car rally or something, mouth open in a yell) that still hung on the wall. Then I wokeup, and remembered there’d never been a “first” house, we’d lived in the same house the whole stay—the university provided accommodation to visiting professors.
sovay: (Rotwang)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2025-06-27 02:06 am

It's two in the afternoon and thirty-four degrees

Actually the temperature crashed by a solid thirty degrees Fahrenheit and with any luck will stay this moderately cool and dampish until everyone has rehydrated. Or we could just skip the next heat dome entirely.

I had worked up an entire rant about the scaremongering of this article and especially its anti-intellectual characterization of Zohran Mamdani as automatically out of touch because his father teaches at Columbia and his mother has directed films in Hollywood as if he were a Cabot who talks only to God when both of these professions especially in these days of DEI demonization mean something very different without whiteness and then I discovered that the author's big shtick is that she "came out" as politically conservative while an undergraduate at Harvard, at which point her already tenuous right to slate anyone for attending Bowdoin fared poorly on the pot-to-kettle scale. Anyway, [personal profile] spatch liked Monsoon Wedding (2001).

The Europeans (1979) turns out to have been the first foray of Merchant Ivory into costume drama and its modest budget gives it a slight, wonderful ghost-look of New England, nineteenth-century carriages on twentieth-century streets, the tarmac dirt-roaded over, telephone poles discreetly out of shot, the dry stone walls tumbledown in the picturesque rather than practically maintained day. I got such déjà vu from the Federal style of its historic houses—and the occasionally more modern construction of their neighbors—that I was reassured to see it actually had shot in Waltham, Concord, and Salem which I recognized from the red-bricked back side of the Customs House. Its autumn is the sugar-red drift of maple leaves, the pale punctuation of birches. Its actors have an indie air with their precisely characterful period clothes doing half the worldbuilding. Robin Ellis sports a moss-bronze corduroy coat and a waistcoat in pheasant paisleys I should like to bid for and a creditably mid-Atlantic accent, cast ironically on the colonial side of the plot of two sets of American cousins and their entanglement with a third, European set. I have not read its particular source novel by Henry James, but it has the light, sharp, not overly mannered observations, a sweet-sour bite in the chocolate box. In light of the setting, variations on "Simple Gifts" and "Shall We Gather at the River?" may have been unavoidable contributions to the score.

Because I had showed [personal profile] spatch a clip of a trumpet played into Jell-O, my attempt to explain Chladni figures netted us a 1989 Christmas lecture by Charles Taylor, after which we went through Delia Derbyshire's "Ziwzih Ziwzih OO-OO-OO" (1967), Belbury Poly's "Caermaen" (2004), and finally thanks to what must have been a very confused sidebar landed on Les Luthiers' "Rhapsody in Balls" (2009). Today has been generally breaking-down-tired, but during the part of the evening where I was still working on implementing a bagel for dinner, WERS had the decency to play the Dead Milkmen's "Punk Rock Girl" (1988).
muccamukk: Stained glass image of a lighthouse, lots of bright colours. (Lights: Stained Glass)
Muccamukk ([personal profile] muccamukk) wrote2025-06-26 02:58 pm
Entry tags:
rydra_wong: Lee Miller photo showing two women wearing metal fire masks in England during WWII. (Default)
rydra_wong ([personal profile] rydra_wong) wrote2025-06-26 07:49 am

Looks like the mass lobby got NUMBERS \o/

https://www.thepinknews.com/2025/06/25/trans-westminster-lobby-ehrc/

The organizers are estimating circa 900 people showed up, putting it on a par with the biggest LGBTQ+ lobbies ever (against Section 28).

Outstanding work from the Trans+ Solidarity Alliance, who also organized the legal briefing for MPs in May:

https://www.attitude.co.uk/news/trans-legal-experts-warn-supreme-court-ruling-could-be-breaching-human-rights-in-parliamentary-briefing-483801/

You can support them and get the "Maybe I'm trans?" badges or just support them without badges:

https://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/p/maybe-im-trans
https://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/p/solidarity-projects-campaigns-fund
skygiants: Sheska from Fullmetal Alchemist with her head on a pile of books (ded from book)
skygiants ([personal profile] skygiants) wrote2025-06-25 08:25 pm

(no subject)

I was traveling again for much of last week which meant, again, it was time to work through an emergency paperback to see if it was discardable. And, indeed, it was! And you would think that reading and discarding one bad book on my travels, dayenu, would have been enough -- but then my friend brought me to books4free, where I could not resist the temptation to pick up another emergency gothic. And, lo and behold, this book turned out to be even worse, and was discarded before the trip was out!

The two books were not even much alike, but I'm going to write them up together anyway because a.) I read them in such proximity and b.) though I did not like either of them, neither quite reached the over-the-top delights of joyous badness that would demand a solo post.

The first -- and this one I'd been hanging onto for some years after finding it in a used bookstore in San Francisco -- was Esbae: A Winter's Tale (published 1981), a college-campus urban fantasy in which (as the Wikipedia summary succinctly says) a college student named Chuck summons Asmodeus to help him pass his exams. However, Chuck is an Asshole Popular Boy who Hates Books and is Afraid of the Library, so he enlists a Clumsy, Intellectual, Unconventional Classmate with Unfashionable Long Red Locks named Sophie to help him with his project. Sophie is, of course, the heroine of the book, and Moreover!! she is chosen by the titular Esbae, a shapechanging magical creature who's been kicked out into the human realm to act as a magical servant until and unless he helps with the performance of a Great and Heroic Deed, to be his potentially heroic master.

Unfortunately after this happens Sophie doesn't actually do very much. The rest of the plot involves Chuck incompetently stalking Sophie to attempt to sacrifice her to Asmodeus, which Sophie barely notices because she's busy cheerfully entering into an affair with the history professor who taught them about Asmodeus to begin with.

In fact only thing of note that nerdy, clumsy Sophie really accomplishes during this section is to fly into a rage with Esbae when she finds out that Esbae has been secretly following her to protect her from Chuck and beat her unprotesting magical creature of pure goodness up?? to which is layered on the extra unfortunate layer that Esbae often takes the form of a small brown-skinned child that Sophie saw playing the Heroine's Clever Moorish Servant in an opera one time??? Sophie, who is justifiably horrified with herself about this, talks it over with her history professor and they decide that with great mastery comes great responsibility and that Sophie has to be a Good Master. Obviously this does not mean not having a magical servant who is completely within your power and obeys your every command, but probably does mean not taking advantage of the situation to beat the servant up even if you're really mad. And we all move on! Much to unpack there, none of which ever will be.

Anyway. Occult shenanigans happen at a big campus party, Esbae Accomplishes A Heroic Deed, Sophie and her history professor live happily ever after. It's 1981. This book was nominated for a Locus Award, which certainly does put things in perspective.

The second book, the free bookstore pickup, was Ronald Scott Thorn's The Twin Serpents (1965) which begins with a brilliant plastic surgeon! tragically dead! with a tragically dead wife!! FOLLOWED BY: the discovery of a mysterious stranger on a Greek island who claims to know nothing about the brilliant plastic surgeon ....

stop! rewind! You might be wondering how we got here! Well, the brilliant plastic surgeon (mid-forties) had a Cold and Shallow but Terribly Beautiful twenty-three-year-old aristocratic wife, and she had a twin brother who was not only a corrupt and debauched and spendthrift aristocrat AND not only psychologically twisted as a result of his physical disability (leg problems) BUT of course mildly incestuous with his twin sister as well and PROBABLY the cause of her inexplicable, unnatural distaste for the idea of having children. I trust this gives you a sense of the vibe.

However, honestly the biggest disappointment is that for a book that contains incestuous twins, face-changing surgery [self-performed!!], secret identities, secret abortions, a secret disease of the hands, last-minute live-saving operations and semi-accidental murder, it's ... kind of boring ..... a solid 60% of the book is the brilliant plastic surgeon and his wife having the same unpleasant marital disputes in which the book clearly wants me to be on his side and I am really emphatically absolutely not. spoilers )

Both these books have now been released back into the wild; I hope they find their way to someone who appreciates them. I did also read a couple of good books on my trip but those will, eventually, get their own post.
sovay: (Sovay: David Owen)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2025-06-25 05:25 pm

Don't know me now, then you'll never know me later

Returned from the optometrist's, I have nocturnal eyes and mirrorshades. When [personal profile] spatch informed me that Zohran Mamdani is Mira Nair's kid, I remarked that it was a little like discovering that Madhur Jaffrey the author of cookbooks and children's books is the actor who introduced Ismail Merchant to James Ivory. I feel I really should have seen this video coming.
cmcmck: (Default)
cmcmck ([personal profile] cmcmck) wrote2025-06-25 03:33 pm

A walk up the Wrekin

We hadn't been up for a while given two awful summers on the trot

The Wrekin (pronounced ree-kin) is our very own local hill. It actually counts as a mountain as it's over !000'  (1335' to be exact).

Our little town is under the shadow of the Wrekin and is fully known as Wellington Under the Wrekin.

Today was forecast to be overcast but was a lot nicer than that so we set out- uphill all the way from our front door. It's about a 2000' climb from home.

The Winter had taken quite a few trees down  as it was a wild one and it's been a blowy Summer too.



More pics! )
sovay: (Otachi: Pacific Rim)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2025-06-24 09:32 pm

Do you believe a person should be some kind of answer?

102 °F, said the forecast this afternoon. 106 °F, said the car when I got into it. I have no difficulty believing it felt like 109 °F. The sun clanged. The electric grid of the Boston metro area was not designed to run this many air conditioners at once.

I followed Ally Wilkes from her short fiction into her debut novel All the White Spaces (2022) and I mean it as a recommendation when I say that I came for the queer polar horror and stayed for the bildungsroman. Externally, it follows the disintegration of an ill-fated Antarctic expedition over the austral year of 1920 as it comes under the traditional strains of weather, misfortune, the supernatural, mistrust. Internally, it follows the discovery of its seventeen-year-old trans stowaway that masculinity comes in more flavors than the imperial ideal he has construed from war cemeteries and boy's own magazines, that he can even invent the kind of man he wants to be instead of fitting himself fossil-cast into a lost shape. No one in the novel describes their identity off the cutting edge of the twenty-first century; the narrative resists an obvious romantic pairing in favor of one of the less conventional nonsexual alliances I enjoy so much. I am predictably a partisan of the expedition's chief scientific officer, whose conscientious objection during the still-raw war casts him as a coward on a good day, a fifth columnist on a bad, and makes no effort to make himself liked either way. It has great ice and dark and queerness and since I deal with heat waves arctically, I am pleased to report that it holds up to re-read.

Kevin Adams' A Crossword War (2018) is a folk album about Bletchley Park, a thing I appreciate existing.
moon_custafer: neon cat mask (Default)
moon_custafer ([personal profile] moon_custafer) wrote2025-06-24 05:03 pm
Entry tags:

Writing Update

I wasn’t planning to include a supernatural element in WWMBD? but, uh, after some waffling I decided a body-swap plot makes narrative sense*. So then I had to go back and rewrite the ending of the most recent chapter, since that’s where the swap would need to take place.

 WWMBD (7759 words) by moon_custafer
Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Musicians, Academia, Romantic Comedy

* 1. Gives me a plot thread (trying to reverse the body swap)
2. I was going to switch to Sam’s PoV (still might eventually) but this way I can put Jim’s PoV in Sam’s body
3. There’s a detail about Sam that Jim hasn’t yet twigged to, and this is a hilariously awkward way for him to discover it
4. I think Sam’s reaction to having Jim’s body could be…interestingly mixed


moon_custafer: neon cat mask (Default)
moon_custafer ([personal profile] moon_custafer) wrote2025-06-24 12:19 pm
Entry tags:

Working on a summer YouTube playlist

So far I’ve got:

‘Ride a White Swan’ (T. Rex)
‘Check U Out’ and ‘The Spider Is In the Drum Track’ (Jank Sinatra)
‘Central Time’ (Pokey LaFarge)
’Love Is a Cylindrical Piano’ and ‘Underwater’ (Salads and Sunbeams)
’Black Sails In the Moonlight’ and ‘Mucho Mungo/Mt. Elga’ (Harry Nilssen)
‘Pirate Radio’ (Jean Dawson, thanks to [personal profile] sovay  for introducing it)
asakiyume: (shaft of light)
asakiyume ([personal profile] asakiyume) wrote2025-06-24 07:22 am

Rhapsody to humid heat

Waking up this morning was like waking up in the Amazon, and I AM HERE FOR THIS. Out my back window, a northeastern jungle, so many shades of green, dappled sun, morning mist. An aural bouquet of birdsong and small critter sounds. Right now there's a scent of wood smoke.

I love the way the medium of humid air makes you intimate with every other thing. The way everything is right on your skin and in your lungs. The glass of water sweats, you sweat. Time dissolves, sound travels nonlinearly, odors are more vivid. I love the lassitude, the exhaustion.
sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey: passion)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2025-06-23 11:29 pm

I know you're waiting for me in secret places

For the hundred and thirteenth birthday of Alan Turing, [personal profile] spatch and I drove to Gloucester to watch the sunset on the water, so, queer joy?





I have worn this T-shirt since his centenary in 2012: it is a word cloud derived from "Computing Machinery and Intelligence" (1950). The tide filled in around the barnacle-colored, seal-colored boulders we had climbed out onto, swirling the olivine shag of the rockweed in the late mirror of the sea. I had not been to Gloucester since before the last glaciation, in a warm autumn that was still cooler than this heat dome settled over Massachusetts like a fitted block of Death Valley. We saw the red-and-white blinks of buoys, the oil-slick necks of cormorants. We checked in on the ghost sign for Moxie at the top of Tablet Rock in Stage Fort Park. From our vantage point of one of the granite horns of Half Moon Beach, we saw three crewed boats practicing for what we realized later would be the races for St. Peter's Fiesta, the blessing of the fleet which had hung the streets with tricolor bunting and Italian flags and set up the Ferris wheel and concessions of a carnival as well as an open-air altar brilliantly painted with a seascape of Ten Pound Light, its foreground wheeling with gulls with their own successful fisher's catch in their beaks. The fisherman in his sunken-green bronze oilskins still holds the wheel against more than four centuries of the remembered drowned. Our designated clam shack had closed an hour before we expected it, so we drove down Route 1 in a sailor's delight of clouds like an electric fire and came to a bewildered halt in a retina-searing splatter of blue lights, because it turned out that half of Revere Beach was closed to traffic thanks to a hit-and-run on a state trooper. We managed nonetheless to salvage roast beef and fried clams from Kelly's at the cost of several miles' walk in the gelatinous night, which compensated at least with the white noise of waves at high tide. The cable-stays of the Christina and John Markey Memorial Pedestrian Bridge were lit up in rainbow neon. I admire Aimee Ogden's "Because I Held His Name Like a Key" (2025) for not being any of the things expected of a Turing fairy story. I look forward to whatever comes of these unshredded papers. We drove home covered in sea-salt and sweat-salt and an unavoidable admixture of strangers' weed smoke and I had a really nice time.

If telepathy is admitted it will be necessary to tighten our test up.
—Alan Turing, "Computing Machinery and Intelligence" (1950)