Caitlín R. Kiernan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greygirlbeast) wrote2011-06-01 03:04 pm
greygirlbeast) wrote2011-06-01 03:04 pm
Entry tags:
"Is there so much hate for the ones we love?"
Today, kittens, would be a fine day for comments.
Spooky and I are on the guest list for the Brenden Perry and Robin Guthrie show at the Paradise in Boston tonight. BUT. There are thunderous hellstorms barreling down on New England. And my feet are swollen (and I might have to stand at the show). And the car's acting goofy. And parking's always dodgy in Boston, which means walking on the swollen feet I might have to stand on for two hours. And I'm waiting on checks that haven't come, so money's tight (and gas is exorbitant). And there's work needs doing. And I already took yesterday off. And...you see? When I was thirty-seven, I'd have said "Fuck it all. We're going." Now, I can't stop chewing over the cons, and the pros shrink away. But Brenden Perry and Robin Guthrie.
Brenden Perry makes this fluttery feeling in my belly.
Anyway, decision made. Staying home and working. Or something of the like.
---
I awoke yesterday - after that paltry and feverish five hours of sleep - to a barrage of Very Important Email, which halfway thwarted my day off. But only halfway. Spooky and I escaped the sweltering house about three-thirty p.m. There had been plans to head down to Moonstone Beach, but I think we were both just not up to the drive (and back to the cost of gas). Instead, we crossed over to College Hill, and spent about an hour at India Point Park, where the Seekonk River drains into Narragansett Bay. The sun was hot, but there was a cool wind off the bay. I lay in the grass, and thought about Blood Oranges, and found a squirrel femur lying beneath a tree. There are photos below, behind the cut (oh, and one of me from back on May 19th, signing the signature sheets for the limited of Two Worlds and In Between).
Then we had an early dinner at Tortilla Flats on Hope Street (at the same intersection where we threw the hubcap on Monday night). I ordered a margarita, though my meds and drinking are a no-no. I did it, anyway. And delivered unto me was the Mother of All Margaritas. No, seriously. Must have been five shots of tequila in the thing. So, Spooky helped me drink it. Gods, I miss the taste of tequila. And after that, we headed back to the house. So, that was my semi-day off.
Last night was mostly just Rift, which was mostly me and Spooky level grinding in Iron Pine, then very good rp (thank you, T!) at Lantern Hook. Spooky's cleric, Miisya, made 44. By the way, here's an offer to people who might want to try Rift and join our guild, Eyes of the Faceless Man. Do the free trial, and if after those seven days, you decide to stick around, the guild will pay for your first mount (horse or vaiyuu). That 2.5 platinum, which, by the way, is hard as hell to make in the lower levels. The guild is beginning to come together, but the more the better. If you want to take us up on this offer, email Spooky at crkbooks(at)gmail(dot)com, and she'll add you to the list and answer questions and whatever. And remember that we're on the Shadefallen shard, Defiant side.
---
The idiotic #FuckPlanB thread on Twitter was brought to my attention this morning, and I sort of wish it hadn't been. It goes something like this: "If you have a fallback plan, a Plan B, in case Plan A doesn't pan out, then you're not really trying." And this is utter bullshit, and advising any would-be artist to adopt this philosophy as valid is the height of irresponsibility. The road to oblivion and homelessness is paved with those who could not (or would not) adapt. Hell, I wouldn't even be a writer if I hadn't had a Plan B, as Plan A was vertebrate paleontology! Yeah, life isn't fair, and settling for less than "your bliss" can suck, but it's better than the alternative. Unless you're so privileged (trust fund, whatever) that you can actually afford the sort of failure that derives from not having a Plan B (and C, and D), this attitude is, simply, self-destructive. Consider Sirenia Digest. That was a Plan C. Anyway, this whole thing has made me rather ill. If you want to read a very cogent take on this, read what![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bethofalltrades has to say on the matter in this post.
---
Also, I'm very pleased to see the return of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
acephalemagic to LJ. He's one of my favorite bloggers and one of My Favorite People I've Not Yet Met.
Now, kittens, I face the storm.
Plan Ahead,
Aunt Beast
Signing 600 signature sheets.
Old pilings at India Point Park.
View to the west, across the bay towards the Fox Point Hurricane Barrier and the power plant.
View of an electrical tower taken from beneath it (I was lying on the ground).
The old Washington Bridge (railroad, circa 1885, partly demolished in 1974)
A rower!
All photographs Copyright 2011 by Caitlin R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
Spooky and I are on the guest list for the Brenden Perry and Robin Guthrie show at the Paradise in Boston tonight. BUT. There are thunderous hellstorms barreling down on New England. And my feet are swollen (and I might have to stand at the show). And the car's acting goofy. And parking's always dodgy in Boston, which means walking on the swollen feet I might have to stand on for two hours. And I'm waiting on checks that haven't come, so money's tight (and gas is exorbitant). And there's work needs doing. And I already took yesterday off. And...you see? When I was thirty-seven, I'd have said "Fuck it all. We're going." Now, I can't stop chewing over the cons, and the pros shrink away. But Brenden Perry and Robin Guthrie.
Brenden Perry makes this fluttery feeling in my belly.
Anyway, decision made. Staying home and working. Or something of the like.
---
I awoke yesterday - after that paltry and feverish five hours of sleep - to a barrage of Very Important Email, which halfway thwarted my day off. But only halfway. Spooky and I escaped the sweltering house about three-thirty p.m. There had been plans to head down to Moonstone Beach, but I think we were both just not up to the drive (and back to the cost of gas). Instead, we crossed over to College Hill, and spent about an hour at India Point Park, where the Seekonk River drains into Narragansett Bay. The sun was hot, but there was a cool wind off the bay. I lay in the grass, and thought about Blood Oranges, and found a squirrel femur lying beneath a tree. There are photos below, behind the cut (oh, and one of me from back on May 19th, signing the signature sheets for the limited of Two Worlds and In Between).
Then we had an early dinner at Tortilla Flats on Hope Street (at the same intersection where we threw the hubcap on Monday night). I ordered a margarita, though my meds and drinking are a no-no. I did it, anyway. And delivered unto me was the Mother of All Margaritas. No, seriously. Must have been five shots of tequila in the thing. So, Spooky helped me drink it. Gods, I miss the taste of tequila. And after that, we headed back to the house. So, that was my semi-day off.
Last night was mostly just Rift, which was mostly me and Spooky level grinding in Iron Pine, then very good rp (thank you, T!) at Lantern Hook. Spooky's cleric, Miisya, made 44. By the way, here's an offer to people who might want to try Rift and join our guild, Eyes of the Faceless Man. Do the free trial, and if after those seven days, you decide to stick around, the guild will pay for your first mount (horse or vaiyuu). That 2.5 platinum, which, by the way, is hard as hell to make in the lower levels. The guild is beginning to come together, but the more the better. If you want to take us up on this offer, email Spooky at crkbooks(at)gmail(dot)com, and she'll add you to the list and answer questions and whatever. And remember that we're on the Shadefallen shard, Defiant side.
---
The idiotic #FuckPlanB thread on Twitter was brought to my attention this morning, and I sort of wish it hadn't been. It goes something like this: "If you have a fallback plan, a Plan B, in case Plan A doesn't pan out, then you're not really trying." And this is utter bullshit, and advising any would-be artist to adopt this philosophy as valid is the height of irresponsibility. The road to oblivion and homelessness is paved with those who could not (or would not) adapt. Hell, I wouldn't even be a writer if I hadn't had a Plan B, as Plan A was vertebrate paleontology! Yeah, life isn't fair, and settling for less than "your bliss" can suck, but it's better than the alternative. Unless you're so privileged (trust fund, whatever) that you can actually afford the sort of failure that derives from not having a Plan B (and C, and D), this attitude is, simply, self-destructive. Consider Sirenia Digest. That was a Plan C. Anyway, this whole thing has made me rather ill. If you want to read a very cogent take on this, read what
bethofalltrades has to say on the matter in this post.---
Also, I'm very pleased to see the return of
acephalemagic to LJ. He's one of my favorite bloggers and one of My Favorite People I've Not Yet Met.Now, kittens, I face the storm.
Plan Ahead,
Aunt Beast
Signing 600 signature sheets.
Old pilings at India Point Park.
View to the west, across the bay towards the Fox Point Hurricane Barrier and the power plant.
View of an electrical tower taken from beneath it (I was lying on the ground).
The old Washington Bridge (railroad, circa 1885, partly demolished in 1974)
A rower!
All photographs Copyright 2011 by Caitlin R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
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Life is all about the options, if you take them or not, thats a personal choice, but ... Options.. even the possibility of Options..
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Like what Yoko Ono wrote on that ceiling-installed art piece that John Lennon saw.
(Just curious about a reason that you said "yes" there. Maybe answering the question in the subject line? You don't have to answer that. Not even Deep Thought) did.
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The comment I responded to kept vanishing.
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Yes.
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(I'm...bad at planning. Or at least I have been.)
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Oh. shit: I need a Plan A.
That's usually a good place to begin.
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Yeah, it's that kind of day.
Have a better day, Caitlin.
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CHRIS, GET OVER YOURSELF, IT'S POSSIBLE TO GET UN-STUCK AND BE MORE PRODUCTIVE.
This is sound advice to yourself. We do have to take risks. It's just that we should have a plan if the bungee cord snaps.
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And then I think about the heat, and reach for my drink instead.
Thing is, it's always hotter here than it is Outside.
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We have blood oranges.
But no tequila.
Feh.
I'm sorry things have conspired to keep you from the show, but it's understandable (and I'm listening to the thunder right now). Put on the music, at least... or would that make you feel worse?
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Now I want a blood orange margarita.
I'm usually a margarita purist.
But that sounds awesome.
or would that make you feel worse?
Not sure.
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...saaaay.
Aunt Beast's Guide to Getting Everything You Want With the Absolute Bare Minimum of Effort. Your next book. Chat it up with your agent. You'll be rich and famous!
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The 'fuck plan B' thing annoys me more than I can say. It reeks of all those hucksters who promise you can 'crush it' if you really want it. The subtext of which is 'If you want to get rich, write self-help/motivational books.'
Good call.
Aunt Beast's Guide to Getting Everything You Want With the Absolute Bare Minimum of Effort. Your next book. Chat it up with your agent. You'll be rich and famous!
Woot!
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Crap, I'll be pondering that for a while...
misc.
- Ah, the Flats -- a regular watering hole last summer, but now I live slightly further away. Food's not bad.
- I wasn't aware of the current "fuck Plan B" thing, but the general attitude -- that if someone is not successful, the only explanation must be laziness -- is responsible for too many of society's ills and makes me want to go around punching this idea's proponents in the throat. I realize that's not a practical approach, but I haven't come up with an alternative...
Re: misc.
I hope next year's DCD tour comes Boston-wards.
Spooky, whose seen DCD twice, says it'll happen.
makes me want to go around punching this idea's proponents in the throat. I realize that's not a practical approach, but I haven't come up with an alternative...
Not practical, but damned inviting.
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Oh, that's very nice.
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Oh, that's very nice.
It pleases me.
Love the new icon.
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Thank you. It's from this photograph: feel free to lift.
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Nice.
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That picture could be called "Ladder To Infinity!" *gets vertigo just typing that*
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Well, I think the attitude of #FuckBlanB may be valuable to some people to remind them that if they don't get up and actually produce something, there is a less palatable life ahead.
I'm not entirely sure I understand this. I almost do. Maybe I just never needed that degree of motivation. I get bored to easily. I have to be doing something constructive working towards a goal.
Looking at medical bills and the real threat of losing a home is suspenseful, but not the kind of suspense anyone wants in life.
You wouldn't think so.
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I do actually understand this. Rote memorization and I, we never got along so well.
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Good luck weathering the storm. It looks like it's not going to be "OMG TORNADO" bad as was suggested a bit earlier but it still looks like utter crap for travel.
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Good luck weathering the storm. It looks like it's not going to be "OMG TORNADO" bad as was suggested a bit earlier but it still looks like utter crap for travel.
Seems to have passed us with only strong rain and hail. But Sprinfield, Mass. got some tornadic activity.
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#FuckPlanB... this is utter bullshit
Plan A is to fly across this really deep ravine under my own power! Fuck Plan B, which is to walk across on the conveniently placed rope bridge! If Superman can do it, no reason I can't! All I've got to do is try hard enough. If I fail, I obviously didn't try hard enough!
Here goes! Weeeeeeeee........
some people have an obsession with the stauer catalog
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A story.
I went to Venice during Carnival this year. I was like someone had taken a slice of my brain and turned into a city that was having a party in drag. We went to Isola Di San Michel, the cemetery island. We picked up little pieces of broken glass and pottery. Space on the island is at such a premium that the graves are reguoarly turned and re-let to new occupants. As we strolled through one such recently turned area, I spotted bones. Tiny human bones, a finger here, a fragment of skull there. I picked them up, as is my wont when I find bones--which like yourself is often. We returned to our room, drank absinthe and smoked. Eventually we went back to Belfast, swearing to return to Venice soon and often. I carried our treasures in my cleveage.
Apologies for spelling & grammar, posting from my phone in bed and the pills have made me woozy.
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