April 18th, 2019
petra: A blonde woman with both hands over her face (Britta - Twohanded facepalm)
posted by [personal profile] petra at 01:44pm on 18/04/2019 under
Spoilers )
Music:: So please don't stay in touch
Mood:: done
petra: A blonde woman with both hands over her face (Britta - Twohanded facepalm)
posted by [personal profile] petra at 11:52am on 18/04/2019
I didn't expect to be distracted from rage at one of my fandoms (loosely defined) by long-awaited new material in another (ditto).

Or, "Thank goodness I can stop fuming over The Magicians' season finale and read the Mueller Report!"
Mood:: what a day
Music:: I read the news today, oh boy
April 17th, 2019
hannah: (Martini - fooish_icons)
posted by [personal profile] hannah at 11:27pm on 17/04/2019
Standing around in Central Park, waiting for the shuttle to take us from the Boathouse to Fifth Avenue, we chatted about how we were doing at such a late, tired hour. I said I was going to crash when I got back to my apartment - "Don't say crash," someone else told me. I laughed, and said I was okay. I explained, I'd had a couple of drinks and then some coffee, some water too, and I was at a good balance of everything to keep coasting for a while. At least until I got back to my apartment, after which, I said, I won't say anything more.

I got driven out of the park, and I got driven into the park. My brother had the time and willingness to drive me and the Gala's baked goods to the Boathouse, and took deep pleasure in doing so - as he said, it might be the one day in his life he drives in Central Park. It was a good day for it, too: that brief time when both flowers and leaves are new and everything is fresh.

I got there early, almost too early, two and a half hours to spare. I walked around the park some, enjoying the people and sunshine. I set up everything, and watched it go into the kitchens for safekeeping until it was time for the after-dinner coffee. I hung out with a couple raptor people from New Jersey, and met a Barred Owl named Mitzi and a Red-Tailed Hawk named Ruby. Both of them got a lot of attention from the birds nearby, with the jays and blackbirds - of course it was the corvids - being the first to start shouting about them, with the sparrows and cardinals joining in. So I joked they should do bird walks with raptors as bait. Bring out the other birds and let people listen.

Things were being set up and arranged up until the last moment before the doors opened for the guests. As it's been said, the show doesn't go on because it's ready, the show goes on because it's showtime. And what a show it was! There was a cheese table, a specific table for cheese, with seven different kinds and someone who'd cut small slices off the logs and wheels when someone wanted a piece. I've been to weddings that aren't as fancy as that.

This is the Flocktail's first year in this space. Far more expensive than other years - the previous locations were all provided for free - and also far nicer. Not just for the catering. It was an airy, open room, with a tall ceiling and windows all around, plus a view out to the Central Park boating pond. When someone got up onto the small stage, everyone could hear them, and when someone got onto the floor to perform, everyone could see them. It wasn't huge, just a couple hundred people. Enough you couldn't meet everybody, and enough you could feel comfortable with just about anyone.

Sometimes the party picked up, sometimes it slowed down. A lot of it was standing or sitting around, eating fancy food and talking to people. It was an open bar, but I've learned since college, and just had two drinks, counting the prosecco they were handing out on trays at the door.

The moments of picking up were numerous, though. There were three dance numbers. There was a short performance by Nellie McKay. The live auction had a professional auctioneer, the kind that talked at fifteen miles a minute and whipped the audience into clapping every time the bid hit another hundred dollars, do I hear sixteen hundred, sixteen, seventeen hundred, eighteen hundred, he's bidding the boat, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one!

It ended up being over twenty-one hundred dollars. I think it went for thirty-one hundred, outbidding the two all-access passes to the Tribeca film festival and the tickets to Hamilton. That one was for a walk in Central Park with the director of the Wild Bird Fund. And Bill Irwin.

It takes a particular audience to get whipped up about Bill Irwin - who would, in fact, be sailing a little boat he'd brought with him out on the Reflecting Pool during the walk. And I was so, so happy to be in that audience.

I approached him near the end of the night, told him I loved how he moved on stage and shook his hand. I did the same for Nellie McKay. But I didn't give her my card. I gave Bill Irwin my card.

As part of the preparations for this, in addition to baking so many cupcakes several people took about a dozen each home with them, I got business cards. So yes. I have cards. Do you want my card? I have a card, drop me a line. I can send you something, here's my card. You need my name, it's on my card.

Though I have to say, much as I loved casually offering out my card, much as I adored exchanging meaningful words with Bill Irwin, glad as I was to attend this sort of thing where the full cost of ingredients was much less than a ticket, what I liked most was being there at the start and the end. Seeing what goes into making it possible, getting it set up and taken down. The stillness before and after all the dancing, when it's open and ready for the night, and when it's just a few people left out in the night, ready to be home.
Music:: nothing now
Mood:: thankful
jjhunter: Gnarled watercolor tree arches a low branch with flaming autumnal leaves (poetree radiant)
three sister trees upon a hill
each the same in height
turn to leaf, and
leaf to red and gold
offset: three times in one
each showing different sums of
sun upon the spot the space they own
in height above the hill

they seem to hold the season
stretched between them

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
stultiloquentia: Campbells condensed primordial soup (Default)
posted by [personal profile] stultiloquentia at 03:56pm on 17/04/2019 under ,
A birthday )

A bun )

Pygmalion and Photograph 51 )

Physiotherapy )

Baseball )

Burlesque Dracula )

Upcoming tiny adventures: river clean-up and barbecue on the 27th, and Black Odyssey at Central Square Theater on the 28th—locals, let me know if you want to join either one.
April 16th, 2019
petra: Old Luke Skywalker glaring (Luke Skywalker - No)
2019: Look, a published Star Wars novel about Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi titled Master and Apprentice.

Petra: No thanks, I'd rather reread Sith Academy. Or almost anything posted on that old archive. What was it called again?

But seriously, folks, that's the fandom where I figured out that I had a little, tiny, eensy-weensy bit of a power-differential mentor/student kink. If I wrote it, which I don't remember doing, it was under a different pseud and far, far away.

Relatedly, I suspect that someone, somewhere has written something I'd describe as Obi-Wan/Anakin chan, but if so I've never seen it. That's a gap in my life that I do not especially want to fill with my own writing, but would be pleased to fill with just about anyone else's for the sake of completeness. I mean, I ship it, but I don't quite ship it like that, more OT3-leaning.
Mood:: brb honing my rage
Music:: A long, long time ago in a galaxy far away
hannah: (Sam and Dean - soaked)
posted by [personal profile] hannah at 11:12pm on 16/04/2019
I spent a brief, intense few minutes this evening coordinating logistics between four different people, myself included. It was something that would've been simpler if everyone was in the same room, or at least reachable by phone, but at least it's reasonably completed now. Making sure that a car can take me and the masses of baked goods over to the party location tomorrow afternoon shouldn't be so tricky, but when it's in Manhattan, it needs a lot of checking assorted regulations. Like if privately owned cars are allowed in Central Park. Turns out, yes, for a small number of reasons and if they follow specific rules.

In more pleasant news, I finished the rough draft of the Gunn/Wesley fic. Outsider POV, keeping in the everyone's-human-and-the-demons-don't-matter setting, probably not to everyone's interest and something I enjoyed the experience of writing.

Also the Cordelia/Phantom Dennis thing.

The first one's about 2000, the second about 3000. It's kind of odd to write something so short after getting used to taking at least 20,000 to tell the story, but these didn't need to be all that long, either.

I know they need to be better than they are right now, though, so if anyone's open for beta-reading, feel free to drop me a line.
Mood:: working
Music:: Playing To The Firmament - Dar Williams
April 15th, 2019
hannah: (Pruning shears - fooish_icons)
posted by [personal profile] hannah at 11:34pm on 15/04/2019
I got woken up this morning by rain. Well before dawn, wind and thunder and hail, heavy drops pelting against the windows. Far beyond a downpour, lighting flashing through the curtains a couple of times, though after I turned my face towards the pillow I couldn't see it anymore. Just the sounds of what came through.

This morning, I got caught in a brief storm. Nothing strong, nothing long, just a few minutes of rain falling straight down. It ended by lunchtime, and the next few hours were the echoes: hard breezes, gray clouds through the sky, dampness suffusing everything. Spring chill, not winter cold. The blossoms are coming down fast, but the buds have some promise of color left in them yet.

By the time it was over, by the time I was on my way home, the air felt new. The only clouds were the nonthreatening kind, the ones that slipped in front of the sun just long enough to make its reappearance that much more brilliant.

The wind's come back and the rain's left. There's a strong chance it'll return soon - it's never far gone here. But on its own time. Rain doesn't come in a hurry, even when it comes in hard.
Music:: This Place Has Got No Soul, Kid - Voxtrot
Mood:: tired
April 13th, 2019
hannah: (Pruning shears - fooish_icons)
posted by [personal profile] hannah at 11:40pm on 13/04/2019
When I left my apartment this morning, it was cool but not cold, and damp but not wet. There wasn't any real alert that it'd switched over from March, but that came in its own time. Specifically, by midafternoon.

Two weeks ago it was orchids; this week it was magnolias and cherry blossoms. I got off at the 50th street stop, thinking I'd do an errand and head right back onto the subway, but then I saw how close I was to Central Park and decided to walk uptown the whole way. It was the right call. As I was heading up, the sun broke through the clouds, so by the time I got to the park, there was enough sky to not feel any wintertime want for it.

The trees weren't in peak blossom, such as it's measured by hashtags and official botanic garden websites, but they were the first I've seen in full and proper bloom. Not just buds or tender petals. There were sparrows singing from the branches, in between the flowers bigger than they were. Pigeons were taking outdoor baths in big puddles, fluffing up and looking pleased. I saw other birds flitting around and watched them gather grasses and twigs for their nests, tucked up high and hidden unless you saw the bird flying right there. The grasses haven't yet covered the ground, but there's steady encroachment speaking well to May. Sometimes April has blizzards to show she doesn't care, and sometimes she's generous with herself.

I zigged and zagged through the park and up the blocks, taking in the warm air on my arms. I did my errands and then some, and I came out of it feeling ready - if not eager - to take on some work ahead. Whether this will continue into tomorrow remains to be seen. But today, at least, gives me hope it might.
Music:: nothing now
Mood:: hopeful
stultiloquentia: Campbells condensed primordial soup (Default)
posted by [personal profile] stultiloquentia at 07:44pm on 13/04/2019 under ,
Inspired by Captain Awkward's tweet, "That feeling when someone asks for a specific kind of book or movie—genre-wise, or chasing a particular mood—and you're like 'maybe try this one' 'cause you don't want to oversell it but inside you know 'THIS IS THE ONE' and then they read it and are like 'THAT WAS THE ONE'... I've matchmade friends into happy marriages and felt less pleasure tbh"

Here is a list of five things I crave in fiction (not necessarily all at the same time). Do you have a book for me? If you meme this with your own list, I will try to find a book for you!
  • Smart people being smart. Bonus if collaboratively.
  • People joyously geeking out about science or art or whatever niche interest.
  • Romances with a big focus on talking. People falling in love over interesting conversations that I actually get to see on the page.
  • Certain flavours of cosiness that avoid being twee. Groups of friends sitting around after dinner, shooting the breeze.
  • A baseline of hope.

I like most genres, fiction and nonfiction, excluding horror and true crime. Some books and movies that have nailed certain elements listed above:

Possession by A.S. Byatt
The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay
Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
The Aubreyad by Patrick O'Brian
Les invasions barbares (2003)
Pride (2014)
Persuasion (1995)
Slings and Arrows (2003)
nightdog_barks: (Star Dog)
posted by [personal profile] nightdog_barks at 12:50pm on 13/04/2019 under , , ,
It's a rainy, stormy Saturday here, so here's a story from today's Guardian about the first canine forensic reconstruction -- a dog that lived 4,500 years ago on the island of Orkney.

Handsome fellow, Y/Y?
Mood:: Dark and rainy
Music:: Manchester United v. West Ham on NBC
zulu: Karen Gillam from Dr. Who, wearing a saucy top hat (Default)
posted by [personal profile] zulu at 09:32am on 13/04/2019

35 / 57 writing exercises graded. 61% done!

0 / 57 essays graded. 0% done!
April 11th, 2019
jjhunter: Serene person of color with shaved head against abstract background half blue half brown (scientific sage)
Pick a thing or two that sums up how you're doing today, this week, in general, and tell me about it in the 5-7-5 syllables of a haiku.


Signal-boosting much appreciated!
jjhunter: Flaming Klein Bottle with image of the face of Dean Winchester (SPN) in b&w to the left (catch divider)
Starting in mid-November, I've periodically had to disable anon commenting for a week here and there to get relief from a relentless cascade of anon spam comments undeterred by CAPTCHA or my default screening of anon comments. (If you're interested in the details, see my comment on [personal profile] siderea's recent Anon commenting off, damnit post - I get the sense there's a more systematic bot network targeting of DW users going on here.)

Anyway, lately it's gotten to the point where I flip anon commenting back on, and the same pattern of spam comments start back up not after a long break but within a few days. This post is a general FYI that I will now be leaving anon commenting off for a more extended period of time, until either DW help has a solution or I have the spoons again to deal with turning anon back on and pouncing on flipping it back off whenever the spam pattern resumes.
vae: (Knight's Tale: gen: audience)
April 9th, 2019
petra: Text: "There's nothing magic about words," he said. "They just do things if you say them right." (DWJ - Nothing magic about words)
A letter to ¡Hola, Papi! and an excellent response on the subject of "I just realized I'm queer, and I'm in a monogamous m/f relationship. Now I feel the urge to come out to people, many of whom think my feelings don't matter as long as I'm in a straight-looking relationship."

The response is thoughtful and heartwarming, and as a queer person in a monogamous m/f relationship I'm going to want to read it again on hard days.
Music:: Beyond your peripheral vision
Mood:: seen
April 8th, 2019
hannah: (On the pier - fooish_icons)
posted by [personal profile] hannah at 11:42pm on 08/04/2019
I spent a good chunk of the afternoon fixing a mistake I'd made. There ultimately wasn't any harm done, just a lot of inconvenience. The only part that gets to me is it could've easily been avoided both from me asking a couple more questions at the outset, and from the person sending me on the errands being slightly more specific from the get-go. All right, and from me remembering my cell phone to discuss stuff while it happens.

That last part is something I'm pretty sure I'll remember for next time.

On the plus side of the day, I've been informed that I've reached my volunteer baked goods quota and anything more is just extra. So of course, after I got that news, I made two more batches. I might go for another one tomorrow morning, just to be that much more extra. It's really tempting. But it'd require getting up early. It's a dilemma.
Mood:: working
Music:: Doors Of Your Heart - The English Beat
stultiloquentia: Campbells condensed primordial soup (Default)
posted by [personal profile] stultiloquentia at 11:44am on 08/04/2019 under
I have made gooey peanut butter caramel bars from crazyforcrust.com, except with a very thin layer of leftover caramel, which was just Werther's candies microwaved with enough heavy cream to keep it from hardening and making off with your teeth; hot cross splotch buns, family recipe with raisins, figs, and lemon juice and sugar glaze, plus I swapped the water for leftover cider that was going fizzy; and strawberry rhubarb macaroons, smittenkitchen.com's raspberry version, except rummaging in the freezer yielded strawberries and rhubarb, so I dumped some into a pot and reduced them on the stove to condense the flavour, omitted the almond extract because grain alcohol, and, as usual, did not adhere to the blogger's sugar measurements. I ate one and liked it; we'll see if anybody else agrees next Friday. Saw someone in the comments say they flavour macaroons with triple sec, which makes me almost sorry I don't like them enough to make them more than once a year.

Expert Baking Tip: Do not wear your hoodie with the drawstrings.

I have laundered, although, as we all know, not all those who launder are washed.

I have critiqued a novel and betaed a fic chapter, and somebody else for whom I have betaed told me out of the blue, "Hey, remember that time you betaed my fic? You were super helpful!" and that felt just as good as getting a comment on an old story.

Then [personal profile] meretricula made me watch this Sidney Crosby vid set to "Landsailor," which is beautifully executed, but also SO FASCINATINGLY WEIRD I've watched it three times with my mouth open. With the...*flails*...the superimposition of the narrative, the, like, feminine-coded YA fantasy novel Chosen One transformative work thing happening here as Vienna Teng's meltingly warm soprano calls, "Lightbringer!" over footage of a benign-looking bro on knife shoes propelling his enormous rump around a rink. I want You Can't Do That to do a podcast about it.
April 7th, 2019
nightdog_barks: (Dame Judi)
Kittens, the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The temperature here is 72 degrees (22.2 degrees Celsius), and the humidity is 78%. Which is actually down from the 84% it was earlier. No sun, no breeze, just still.

Currently reading (and almost finished with) Scott Hawkins' The Library at Mount Char. Dear friends, it has been a long, long time since I've read such a bananapants monkeyhouse of a novel. I am just saying.
Music:: Cubs at Brewers on the MLB Network
Mood:: Warm and damp
April 6th, 2019
hannah: (Breadmaking - fooish_icons)
posted by [personal profile] hannah at 09:07pm on 06/04/2019
So far, I've figured out the following:

- Any sort of glaze, streusel, or topping other than "frosting applied at the very last instant before serving" isn't worth it going forward from here.

- Even the frosting is up for debate.

- Everything I made tonight is delicious.

- Nothing I made tonight has any significant consistency in the appearance of the finished product.

- I can make at least two batches of cupcakes a day, if I begin in the afternoon and do nothing else with my time.

- I can possibly make upwards of three or four if I start before lunch.

- I have enough materials on hand to keep going with several more batches of various varieties and get to a point where I'm satisfied with what I'm making.

- Always wear oven mitts.

- I need to clean out even more space in my freezer, good God, these things take up room in there.
Mood:: working
Music:: Lay Down Your Weary Tune - Bob Dylan


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