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Just a quick note, as I've been adding new people on here, that if you don't recognise this username, you might know me as ![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p2.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
villainousfriend or ![[twitter.com profile]](https://p2.dreamwidth.org/e0caa790ec10/-/twitter.com/favicon.ico)
villainousfrnd instead. :)
Today's January meme prompt was from @ThisFoxWrites.twitter: "current favourite piece of music, what it feels like and what it does to/for your brain?" (There are still some empty days for prompts!)
I thought yesterday's prompt was difficult, because it meant writing about fiction by people much better with words than me. Today's is far harder!
Not only am I musically ungifted, but my music-listening habits are idiosyncratic, so that I'm not really sure what my 'favourite' piece of music (even currently) is.
( Habits. )
Anyway, as I haven't been at work for three weeks (and spent today in meetings), I've not been listening to much music lately. Here, though, is a song I love, which I discovered while almost alone in the office just before Christmas a couple of years ago. I spent that time going through a masterpost of Arctic music and noodling away by myself; it really wasn't so bad.
This is Ukiuq by the Jerry Cans, a band from Nunavut. The song is in Inuktitut—there's an English version too, with a lovely animated video, but I much prefer the translation of the original lyrics over the English ones.
Arctic
When you find yourself traveling in the Arctic
While the wind blows
Remind them of me
Remind them I used to love them
If you travel through a blizzard
During the time when the river freezes
In the early fall
Make sure to dress warm
Make sure they are warm
I used to love them
In all the Jerry Cans' work, I love the combination of the fiddle and accordeon with Inuktitut singing and Arctic, indigenous, Inuit themes. Ukiuq is particularly haunting, the violin calling out alone before weaving back through Nancy Mike's rhythmic throat-singing lines, a sound that's captivating and clearly human but, to my ears, less familiar than the strings and drums. There's so much energy here for a song about relationships lost to time and migration, so many human voices raised together for a song about the blizzard and the frozen river. I challenge you to listen to this and not find yourself joining in, if only to yourself: Nalligilaurakku! I used to love them.
(For something more light-hearted, check out the video for Mamaqtuq! CN: seal hunting.)
I thought yesterday's prompt was difficult, because it meant writing about fiction by people much better with words than me. Today's is far harder!
Not only am I musically ungifted, but my music-listening habits are idiosyncratic, so that I'm not really sure what my 'favourite' piece of music (even currently) is.
( Habits. )
Anyway, as I haven't been at work for three weeks (and spent today in meetings), I've not been listening to much music lately. Here, though, is a song I love, which I discovered while almost alone in the office just before Christmas a couple of years ago. I spent that time going through a masterpost of Arctic music and noodling away by myself; it really wasn't so bad.
This is Ukiuq by the Jerry Cans, a band from Nunavut. The song is in Inuktitut—there's an English version too, with a lovely animated video, but I much prefer the translation of the original lyrics over the English ones.
Arctic
When you find yourself traveling in the Arctic
While the wind blows
Remind them of me
Remind them I used to love them
If you travel through a blizzard
During the time when the river freezes
In the early fall
Make sure to dress warm
Make sure they are warm
I used to love them
In all the Jerry Cans' work, I love the combination of the fiddle and accordeon with Inuktitut singing and Arctic, indigenous, Inuit themes. Ukiuq is particularly haunting, the violin calling out alone before weaving back through Nancy Mike's rhythmic throat-singing lines, a sound that's captivating and clearly human but, to my ears, less familiar than the strings and drums. There's so much energy here for a song about relationships lost to time and migration, so many human voices raised together for a song about the blizzard and the frozen river. I challenge you to listen to this and not find yourself joining in, if only to yourself: Nalligilaurakku! I used to love them.
(For something more light-hearted, check out the video for Mamaqtuq! CN: seal hunting.)
Today's prompt from the January meme is from @drmaciver. In October, I gave a keynote talk at PyCode Conference with the title How do Vampires Use the Internet? It was about how fan communities use, repurpose and create technology, and I used my own home fandom of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles as the source for a lot of my examples. The slides are here. I'd really love to share a video of the talk, but it hasn't yet been published online.
At @drmaciver's request, here are some of the interesting things I turned up but didn't manage to fit into the keynote itself or the list of further links on the slides page (I wedged a lot of my research into there).
To start off with, this clay tablet bearing a letter written in Neo-Assyrian cuneiform, transliterated and translated at the link with detailed translation notes, is probably the coolest piece of fanwork I've seen. It definitely uses technology, in a way possibly undreamt of by the originators of that technology,* but there was nowhere for it in my talk.
This long article about the history of art communities on the internet covers some of the same ground as the historical section of my talk in a lot more detail and focuses on websites for visual art, rather than fanfic, which was my main focus. It's very worth reading.
Here is a carefully compiled list of all the suburbs in all the neighbourhoods in GeoCities, before Yahoo! bought it and brought in vanity URLs. I love that someone put this together, but it wasn't actually useful for me.
A DW post about the different characters of fan interaction on different sites; far too detailed for my talk, which was aimed at tech-savvy non-fans, though it informed my approach.
Finally, though this will not be new to @drmaciver or @alexwlchan, everyone else will enjoy this snippet of our initial conversation about what topic I should speak on.
( Puns! )
* Probably not, though. We've had fan fiction since forever.
At @drmaciver's request, here are some of the interesting things I turned up but didn't manage to fit into the keynote itself or the list of further links on the slides page (I wedged a lot of my research into there).
To start off with, this clay tablet bearing a letter written in Neo-Assyrian cuneiform, transliterated and translated at the link with detailed translation notes, is probably the coolest piece of fanwork I've seen. It definitely uses technology, in a way possibly undreamt of by the originators of that technology,* but there was nowhere for it in my talk.
This long article about the history of art communities on the internet covers some of the same ground as the historical section of my talk in a lot more detail and focuses on websites for visual art, rather than fanfic, which was my main focus. It's very worth reading.
Here is a carefully compiled list of all the suburbs in all the neighbourhoods in GeoCities, before Yahoo! bought it and brought in vanity URLs. I love that someone put this together, but it wasn't actually useful for me.
A DW post about the different characters of fan interaction on different sites; far too detailed for my talk, which was aimed at tech-savvy non-fans, though it informed my approach.
Finally, though this will not be new to @drmaciver or @alexwlchan, everyone else will enjoy this snippet of our initial conversation about what topic I should speak on.
( Puns! )
* Probably not, though. We've had fan fiction since forever.
January meme: My top three worlds from SFF
Saturday, January 4th, 2020 14:07Today's topic from the January meme comes from @anotherbluestocking. There are still some empty days!
I decided to interpret 'world' as universe rather than planet, and look at fiction where I feel the worldbuilding has something special about it. This is an unordered list!
Machineries of Empire by @yhlee
I obviously had to include my current obsession here. The MoE universe is one in which manipulating spaceships, soldiers or entire populations according to advanced mathematical equations can generate exotic effects—anything from rain that twists the geometry of a battlefield, so that organs are braided through the skin of their owners, to FTL travel and a disembodied form of immortality. Naturally, I love it all. Book one, Ninefox Gambit, contains synaesthetically delirious descriptions of combat with exotic effects that are the equal of anything I've read in SFF; the further books explore the political system of the (Hept|Hex)archate* and its relations with the conquered ethnic groups that make up the empire, as well as with other interstellar nations. @yhlee handles this large-scale political worldbuilding with aplomb while consistently characterising even minor characters with tiny details that illuminate their societies.
*They lost a faction along the way, it was a whole thing.
Welcome to Night Vale
I'm far from up to date with WtNV, but I have listened to the first 60-70 episodes and have the novel on my bookshelves somewhere. The world where Night Vale and its rival city, Desert Bluffs, exist is an uncanny-valley version of our own, where strange conspiracies and mysterious apparitions seem normal, reported on by the cheery local radio host. What I love about it is how the writers make use of the podcast format to conjure up images and then subvert them, to make reality malleable and disorienting. I also love just how queer and queer-friendly it is. This is a world where an eleven-year-old schoolgirl can be an adult man's hand... why would anyone be bothered by Cecil narrating his steps towards romance with Carlos on the radio?
Bas-Lag by China Miéville
Bas-Lag, described in Miéville's novels Perdido Street Station, The Scar and Iron Council, is a riotous, crenellated, grotesque, brutal, multifarious world, a Gormenghast writ on an enormous scale; for pure breadth of invention, there's nothing like it. I adore Miéville's verbal gymnastics in these early books and admire how unafraid he is to inflect his creations with politics. Though I disagree with quite a few of his story-telling choices (uggggh, why did you make me spend half a book in the head of that petulant carp Bellis Coldwine, China?), I enjoy every opportunity to explore the corners of this world.
Bonus: The Moors in Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children series
This is a bonus because I've only read the first of the Wayward Children novellas, Every Heart a Doorway, which describes but never visits the world into which princessy Jill and mad scientist Jack fell into and, five years later, were ejected from. I loved that book, though, and can't wait to read Down Among the Sticks and Bones and go directly there.
I decided to interpret 'world' as universe rather than planet, and look at fiction where I feel the worldbuilding has something special about it. This is an unordered list!
Machineries of Empire by @yhlee
I obviously had to include my current obsession here. The MoE universe is one in which manipulating spaceships, soldiers or entire populations according to advanced mathematical equations can generate exotic effects—anything from rain that twists the geometry of a battlefield, so that organs are braided through the skin of their owners, to FTL travel and a disembodied form of immortality. Naturally, I love it all. Book one, Ninefox Gambit, contains synaesthetically delirious descriptions of combat with exotic effects that are the equal of anything I've read in SFF; the further books explore the political system of the (Hept|Hex)archate* and its relations with the conquered ethnic groups that make up the empire, as well as with other interstellar nations. @yhlee handles this large-scale political worldbuilding with aplomb while consistently characterising even minor characters with tiny details that illuminate their societies.
*They lost a faction along the way, it was a whole thing.
Welcome to Night Vale
I'm far from up to date with WtNV, but I have listened to the first 60-70 episodes and have the novel on my bookshelves somewhere. The world where Night Vale and its rival city, Desert Bluffs, exist is an uncanny-valley version of our own, where strange conspiracies and mysterious apparitions seem normal, reported on by the cheery local radio host. What I love about it is how the writers make use of the podcast format to conjure up images and then subvert them, to make reality malleable and disorienting. I also love just how queer and queer-friendly it is. This is a world where an eleven-year-old schoolgirl can be an adult man's hand... why would anyone be bothered by Cecil narrating his steps towards romance with Carlos on the radio?
Bas-Lag by China Miéville
Bas-Lag, described in Miéville's novels Perdido Street Station, The Scar and Iron Council, is a riotous, crenellated, grotesque, brutal, multifarious world, a Gormenghast writ on an enormous scale; for pure breadth of invention, there's nothing like it. I adore Miéville's verbal gymnastics in these early books and admire how unafraid he is to inflect his creations with politics. Though I disagree with quite a few of his story-telling choices (uggggh, why did you make me spend half a book in the head of that petulant carp Bellis Coldwine, China?), I enjoy every opportunity to explore the corners of this world.
Bonus: The Moors in Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children series
This is a bonus because I've only read the first of the Wayward Children novellas, Every Heart a Doorway, which describes but never visits the world into which princessy Jill and mad scientist Jack fell into and, five years later, were ejected from. I loved that book, though, and can't wait to read Down Among the Sticks and Bones and go directly there.
Still catching up on the January meme, and still accepting suggestions for empty days! This prompt is from @cloudsinvenice.
This is a great question but a bittersweet one right now, as the first answer that popped into my head was a formerly very close friend who recently cut off our friendship. We had grown apart and I had done a lot less to hold up my side of the relationship than she had.
I'm obviously sad about how things have turned out, but glad of the opportunity to acknowledge that she introduced me to many great bands, experiences and spiritual ideas; encouraged me to be creative, to write and draw and dance without self-consciousness; and inspired me with her feminism and ambition. Her friendship was a lifeline when we were both weird, introverted teenage girls stuck in our hometown. I hope she looks back on it with as much love as I do.
Here are some other positive influences that have shaped me for the better:
My GCSE and A-level physics teacher, Philip Goodfellow, who relit the passion for science that had been damped by being taught by indifferent substitute teachers for half a year, after the previous Head of Science ran away with a sixteen-year-old student to her parents' timeshare in Malaga. Philip took me seriously and organised a school trip to CERN because I wanted to go; I still help out with it every two years. Without him, I doubt I would have gone to Cambridge.
Terry Pratchett. I know I'm not alone there. Also: public libraries, without which I would have been deprived of one physical refuge and a million imaginative ones.
The collective wisdom of AskMetafilter, which taught me a good third of what I know about human relations.
@zarkonnen, obviously, because he is unendingly patient, curious, just, encouraging and creative.
Finally, this Kurt Vonnegut quote, which I try to remember and live by. (Not just me, apparently!)
This is a great question but a bittersweet one right now, as the first answer that popped into my head was a formerly very close friend who recently cut off our friendship. We had grown apart and I had done a lot less to hold up my side of the relationship than she had.
I'm obviously sad about how things have turned out, but glad of the opportunity to acknowledge that she introduced me to many great bands, experiences and spiritual ideas; encouraged me to be creative, to write and draw and dance without self-consciousness; and inspired me with her feminism and ambition. Her friendship was a lifeline when we were both weird, introverted teenage girls stuck in our hometown. I hope she looks back on it with as much love as I do.
Here are some other positive influences that have shaped me for the better:
My GCSE and A-level physics teacher, Philip Goodfellow, who relit the passion for science that had been damped by being taught by indifferent substitute teachers for half a year, after the previous Head of Science ran away with a sixteen-year-old student to her parents' timeshare in Malaga. Philip took me seriously and organised a school trip to CERN because I wanted to go; I still help out with it every two years. Without him, I doubt I would have gone to Cambridge.
Terry Pratchett. I know I'm not alone there. Also: public libraries, without which I would have been deprived of one physical refuge and a million imaginative ones.
The collective wisdom of AskMetafilter, which taught me a good third of what I know about human relations.
@zarkonnen, obviously, because he is unendingly patient, curious, just, encouraging and creative.
Finally, this Kurt Vonnegut quote, which I try to remember and live by. (Not just me, apparently!)
But I had a good uncle, my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life-insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, "If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is."
So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, "If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is."
So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, "If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is."
I'm late getting started with the January meme, thanks to spending New Year's in the dateless haze of holidays. Never mind! Here's my entry for the 1st of January, @cloudsinvenice's prompt. (I'm still taking suggestions for any empty days.)
When I was a small human kitten, my parents already had three cats: Monty, Oscar and Boris. I suppose each of them counts equally as my first cat. My family never had dogs, although my paternal relations have had many of them through the years, most memorably my grandmother's big daft Alsation, Fiver. It seems I was fated to become a cat person from birth. (@zarkonnen, on the other hand, never had pets as a child but has been a cat person as long as I've known him. When we finally got @sinister_katze.twitter and @dexter_katze.twitter, he took to cat stewardship like a duck to running away from cats.)
Monty was the oldest of those three original cats. My mum had had him since before she met my dad, and he died when I was seven or eight. Sadly, all I remember of him was that he had to be put down; from my perspective, he went to the vet—to be cured of something, I assumed—and never came home again. This Christmas, I learned more about him.
He was the runt of a litter of barn cats, the only long-haired one, and so tiny and bedraggled that when Mum went to the farm and asked about kittens, they told her they had all been given away. Surprise! One filthy and flea-ridden kitten remained. Mum took him home and, not knowing anything about cats, gave him a bath. For the rest of his life, Monty loved to jump into a full bathtub, if possible when she was in it. Very adaptably, he had just concluded that this was the way to show love in his new household.
Monty was an escape artist and a free spirit. He got out of every cattery Mum tried to board him at when she went on holiday: each time she would come back to apologetic assurances that they'd done all they could to find him, but it just wasn't possible. If she went and sat in her back garden with a bowl of cat food, however, Monty would soon come sauntering back. After a while, she gave up on the catteries and just got a friend to come by and feed him. He'd still be gone when she returned, though, and need to be enticed back home. Monty had time for Mum, the wild outdoors, and nothing else.
In his old age, Monty developed kidney failure. The vet told Mum that he couldn't be allowed outside; there was too much danger that he would pick up a bug that would kill him. There was no way he could enjoy life sick and cooped up in the house, though, she knew. After a lot of painful deliberation that I, as a child, was of course not party to, Mum said goodbye to Monty in the kindest way she could. I'm certain he had a good life and he was very well loved.
Boris was a slinky grey cat who eventually left us for our next door neighbour, Ina, whose house already contained other cats, a lot of birds, and two enormous St Bernards. Well, I guess all St Bernards are enormous when you're eight years old; those things were the size of ponies to me.
Oscar was my very favourite cat. He was a big, tough, black cat, and though not usually rough, he wouldn't stand for physical affection from anybody. For some reason, though, he took to me. One day my mum came down into our kitchen to see preschool-aged me kneeling on the linoleum, playing with an old black cardigan of hers. I was rolling it back and forth across the floor.
"Rolly rolly this way. Rolly rolly that way."
She looked again. It was not a cardigan. It was Oscar, blissed out and allowing himself to be pushed around by the human child he had, inexplicably, become inseparable from.
Oscar didn't come with us on the move from Southampton to Southend when I was nine; we think he nipped over the fence to stay with Boris, Ina and the St Bernards. I'm sure they all had a very stimulating and entertaining life together!
When I was a small human kitten, my parents already had three cats: Monty, Oscar and Boris. I suppose each of them counts equally as my first cat. My family never had dogs, although my paternal relations have had many of them through the years, most memorably my grandmother's big daft Alsation, Fiver. It seems I was fated to become a cat person from birth. (@zarkonnen, on the other hand, never had pets as a child but has been a cat person as long as I've known him. When we finally got @sinister_katze.twitter and @dexter_katze.twitter, he took to cat stewardship like a duck to running away from cats.)
Monty was the oldest of those three original cats. My mum had had him since before she met my dad, and he died when I was seven or eight. Sadly, all I remember of him was that he had to be put down; from my perspective, he went to the vet—to be cured of something, I assumed—and never came home again. This Christmas, I learned more about him.
He was the runt of a litter of barn cats, the only long-haired one, and so tiny and bedraggled that when Mum went to the farm and asked about kittens, they told her they had all been given away. Surprise! One filthy and flea-ridden kitten remained. Mum took him home and, not knowing anything about cats, gave him a bath. For the rest of his life, Monty loved to jump into a full bathtub, if possible when she was in it. Very adaptably, he had just concluded that this was the way to show love in his new household.
Monty was an escape artist and a free spirit. He got out of every cattery Mum tried to board him at when she went on holiday: each time she would come back to apologetic assurances that they'd done all they could to find him, but it just wasn't possible. If she went and sat in her back garden with a bowl of cat food, however, Monty would soon come sauntering back. After a while, she gave up on the catteries and just got a friend to come by and feed him. He'd still be gone when she returned, though, and need to be enticed back home. Monty had time for Mum, the wild outdoors, and nothing else.
In his old age, Monty developed kidney failure. The vet told Mum that he couldn't be allowed outside; there was too much danger that he would pick up a bug that would kill him. There was no way he could enjoy life sick and cooped up in the house, though, she knew. After a lot of painful deliberation that I, as a child, was of course not party to, Mum said goodbye to Monty in the kindest way she could. I'm certain he had a good life and he was very well loved.
Boris was a slinky grey cat who eventually left us for our next door neighbour, Ina, whose house already contained other cats, a lot of birds, and two enormous St Bernards. Well, I guess all St Bernards are enormous when you're eight years old; those things were the size of ponies to me.
Oscar was my very favourite cat. He was a big, tough, black cat, and though not usually rough, he wouldn't stand for physical affection from anybody. For some reason, though, he took to me. One day my mum came down into our kitchen to see preschool-aged me kneeling on the linoleum, playing with an old black cardigan of hers. I was rolling it back and forth across the floor.
"Rolly rolly this way. Rolly rolly that way."
She looked again. It was not a cardigan. It was Oscar, blissed out and allowing himself to be pushed around by the human child he had, inexplicably, become inseparable from.
Oscar didn't come with us on the move from Southampton to Southend when I was nine; we think he nipped over the fence to stay with Boris, Ina and the St Bernards. I'm sure they all had a very stimulating and entertaining life together!
January meme
Sunday, December 29th, 2019 23:12If there's a particular topic you'd like to see me write about in January, please comment on the meme post and let me know it. :)
January meme
Wednesday, December 4th, 2019 17:35I've really startled myself by keeping up with my "daily" posts as well as I have done since late June! (If you can't see them and want to, lmk in the comments.) On the other hand, my non-journal blogging has been non-existent of late. I just saw this meme on @yhlee's journal and thought I would steal it to rectify this.
The idea is that you pick a date and give me a topic to write about on it. I don't think I know 31 people here, so please feel free to grab more than one date if you like!
Off the top of my head, I can definitely write about topics related to vampires, fandom, feminism, coding, terrible things happening in cold places, cats, Switzerland, science, SFF, world history, German... and lots of other things, I'm sure.
( Long list of dates. )
I stripped out many self-deprecating asides in this post. Go me. :)
The idea is that you pick a date and give me a topic to write about on it. I don't think I know 31 people here, so please feel free to grab more than one date if you like!
Off the top of my head, I can definitely write about topics related to vampires, fandom, feminism, coding, terrible things happening in cold places, cats, Switzerland, science, SFF, world history, German... and lots of other things, I'm sure.
( Long list of dates. )
I stripped out many self-deprecating asides in this post. Go me. :)
Daily post: bawdy house migraine
Monday, June 24th, 2019 20:51This will indeed be a shorter post than yesterday's, because at noon I got a migraine and came home to bed.
At least it was the first one I've had since last summer, when I started taking Sibelium as a prophylactic. I think I have become less patient at having migraines, not more, over time. All that works to get rid of them is to load up on codeine, paracetamol and caffeine and retreat to a dark room, where I get bored and have to restrain myself from reading things on my phone (the worst thing to do!).
I listened to this podcast about the Bawdy House Riots of 1668 instead, at a low volume, and drifted off to sleep.
At least the day started off well, with nice weather for the walk to work along the river and no terrible surprises in my work email after more than a week away. I need to find time to prepare slides for the talk I'm giving at work on Thursday, about the Mental Health First Aid training I did earlier in the year. That was going to be tonight, but obviously won't be.
At least it was the first one I've had since last summer, when I started taking Sibelium as a prophylactic. I think I have become less patient at having migraines, not more, over time. All that works to get rid of them is to load up on codeine, paracetamol and caffeine and retreat to a dark room, where I get bored and have to restrain myself from reading things on my phone (the worst thing to do!).
I listened to this podcast about the Bawdy House Riots of 1668 instead, at a low volume, and drifted off to sleep.
At least the day started off well, with nice weather for the walk to work along the river and no terrible surprises in my work email after more than a week away. I need to find time to prepare slides for the talk I'm giving at work on Thursday, about the Mental Health First Aid training I did earlier in the year. That was going to be tonight, but obviously won't be.
Daily entry no. 1 of ?
Sunday, June 23rd, 2019 13:19Every time I read one of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alexwlchan's daily entries, I wish I were also writing them, and so, though I think it's extremely unlikely I'll keep up this habit for long or as regularly as they do, I might as well start. Today is a reasonably good day for it, as David and I were in Bangkok last week and I would also like to write up a blog post about that.
Currently I'm sitting on the sofa in our flat, with Sinister the cat spread fluffily all over the next cushion, and David playing Dwarf Fortress on the seat next to him. Sinister is snoring, which is my favourite sound in the whole world. Every so often I reach over and fuzzle his face, not just his cheeks and ears but the whole thing including his closed eyes and gums and the sides of his nose, which for some bizarre reason he loves. I think he and his brother Dexter missed us while we were away.
We travelled to Bangkok on a Thursday and returned on a Thursday, which threw planning of Gamespace meetups, which occur every second Thursday, into chaos but at least meant having three quiet days for recovery afterwards, as I don't work on Fridays. I've mostly spent that time reading Revenant Gun and flailing about it on Twitter; a friend I recently met on there responded to my tweets about it by saying that it's been their special interest since they binged all three novels in a week, so it's not just me! I never (used to) re-read books, but I've read Ninefox Gambit and Raven Strategem twice each now, and am looking forward to a second go at Revenant Gun. The experience has been illuminating. Each second read-through has been faster than the original, but possibly even more enjoyable. I might have been missing out all these years.
We've also played Stellaris and some Innovation, a game our friends Axelle and Christopher introduced us to, which is somewhat like a card-game version of Civilization. It's small, cheap and very replayable.
I don't know why I got out of the habit of blogging—this is easy. I've already written four paragraphs before getting on to Thailand. ... Oh, right, it's because I get into the habit of describing everything in such detail that writing about a week's holiday seems like an interminable task.
( Bangkok, then! )
( Cut for human remains and other squick )
( Bangkok continued )
Well, I guess that's today's daily entry done! Next up, I will probably read some of Eleanor of Aquitaine: By the Wrath of God, Queen of England, which I started about 30% because of the title, to be honest. I expect tomorrow's post to be 95% shorter than this one.
alexwlchan's daily entries, I wish I were also writing them, and so, though I think it's extremely unlikely I'll keep up this habit for long or as regularly as they do, I might as well start. Today is a reasonably good day for it, as David and I were in Bangkok last week and I would also like to write up a blog post about that.Currently I'm sitting on the sofa in our flat, with Sinister the cat spread fluffily all over the next cushion, and David playing Dwarf Fortress on the seat next to him. Sinister is snoring, which is my favourite sound in the whole world. Every so often I reach over and fuzzle his face, not just his cheeks and ears but the whole thing including his closed eyes and gums and the sides of his nose, which for some bizarre reason he loves. I think he and his brother Dexter missed us while we were away.
We travelled to Bangkok on a Thursday and returned on a Thursday, which threw planning of Gamespace meetups, which occur every second Thursday, into chaos but at least meant having three quiet days for recovery afterwards, as I don't work on Fridays. I've mostly spent that time reading Revenant Gun and flailing about it on Twitter; a friend I recently met on there responded to my tweets about it by saying that it's been their special interest since they binged all three novels in a week, so it's not just me! I never (used to) re-read books, but I've read Ninefox Gambit and Raven Strategem twice each now, and am looking forward to a second go at Revenant Gun. The experience has been illuminating. Each second read-through has been faster than the original, but possibly even more enjoyable. I might have been missing out all these years.
We've also played Stellaris and some Innovation, a game our friends Axelle and Christopher introduced us to, which is somewhat like a card-game version of Civilization. It's small, cheap and very replayable.
I don't know why I got out of the habit of blogging—this is easy. I've already written four paragraphs before getting on to Thailand. ... Oh, right, it's because I get into the habit of describing everything in such detail that writing about a week's holiday seems like an interminable task.
( Bangkok, then! )
( Cut for human remains and other squick )
( Bangkok continued )
Well, I guess that's today's daily entry done! Next up, I will probably read some of Eleanor of Aquitaine: By the Wrath of God, Queen of England, which I started about 30% because of the title, to be honest. I expect tomorrow's post to be 95% shorter than this one.
I had the idea a while ago to write some posts about words I particularly like. Here's the first one, with the disclaimer that I'm not a linguist or even particularly good at languages; I just enjoy thinking about them.
One of my favourite German words, as well as one that lots of German learners find hard to grasp the meaning of, is doch. It took me so long to get to grips with this word that now any chance to use it is a delicious treat.
Like many German words, doch is difficult because, as well as standing on its own, it's often deployed as a particle. It's one of those frustrating tiny words that get thrown into German sentences like confetti, changing the whole meaning in some unquantifiable fashion, of which native speakers tell us, "Well, it's hard to explain exactly what that means..."
A few years ago, I finally found a memorable and concise definition for doch, though I can't remember where I saw this. Doch is "a positive answer to a negative question." It's a missing word in the English language that fills an annoying gap.
Here are some examples to make it clearer what I mean.
A positive answer to a positive question might be something like this: "Did you take the bins out?" "Yes." It's clear what's going on here. A negative answer to a positive question is also clear: "Did you feed the cats?" "No."
A negative question, in this framing, would be something like the following: "We don't have any chores to do today, right?"
If I reply with yes, am I saying that the speaker is correct, or that we do in fact have chores? English-speakers have to clear up this ambiguity with a longer answer. In German, one can just say, "Doch."
A stranger in the Berlin railway station once called out to me in German, as we rode the escalators in opposite directions, "Cool hair! But that's not your natural colour?" "Doch!" It was bright blue at the time. I was very happy, not only to know the punchline to the joke and laugh with a stranger, but for the perfect excuse to use this word. (I was also rather punchy because I was getting off an overnight train at 6 a.m., and most interactions would have made me laugh right then.)
Knowing this definition of doch makes it easier to see the work it does when plunked in the middle of a sentence.
Er ist doch nicht gekommen: He didn't come, though. He still didn't come. Nevertheless, he didn't come.
Ich habe so viel geschrieben, doch ich bin noch nicht mit meinem Aufsatz fertig: I've written so much but I'm still not finished with my essay.
This blog post gives many more examples and goes into detail about the different uses of doch. I feel, though, that everything falls into place once you understand the chief definition of the word. The nicest thing about living in a German-speaking region is that I can use it even in English conversations. Everyone understands what I mean and exchanges have a lovely, logical flow.
One last question remains open: do we need a word for a negative answer to a negative question? I actually think that no suffices for both situations, but perhaps there are languages that have one?
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; full entry at http://bit.ly/2FrOY2N)
One of my favourite German words, as well as one that lots of German learners find hard to grasp the meaning of, is doch. It took me so long to get to grips with this word that now any chance to use it is a delicious treat.
Like many German words, doch is difficult because, as well as standing on its own, it's often deployed as a particle. It's one of those frustrating tiny words that get thrown into German sentences like confetti, changing the whole meaning in some unquantifiable fashion, of which native speakers tell us, "Well, it's hard to explain exactly what that means..."
A few years ago, I finally found a memorable and concise definition for doch, though I can't remember where I saw this. Doch is "a positive answer to a negative question." It's a missing word in the English language that fills an annoying gap.
Here are some examples to make it clearer what I mean.
A positive answer to a positive question might be something like this: "Did you take the bins out?" "Yes." It's clear what's going on here. A negative answer to a positive question is also clear: "Did you feed the cats?" "No."
A negative question, in this framing, would be something like the following: "We don't have any chores to do today, right?"
If I reply with yes, am I saying that the speaker is correct, or that we do in fact have chores? English-speakers have to clear up this ambiguity with a longer answer. In German, one can just say, "Doch."
A stranger in the Berlin railway station once called out to me in German, as we rode the escalators in opposite directions, "Cool hair! But that's not your natural colour?" "Doch!" It was bright blue at the time. I was very happy, not only to know the punchline to the joke and laugh with a stranger, but for the perfect excuse to use this word. (I was also rather punchy because I was getting off an overnight train at 6 a.m., and most interactions would have made me laugh right then.)
Knowing this definition of doch makes it easier to see the work it does when plunked in the middle of a sentence.
Er ist doch nicht gekommen: He didn't come, though. He still didn't come. Nevertheless, he didn't come.
Ich habe so viel geschrieben, doch ich bin noch nicht mit meinem Aufsatz fertig: I've written so much but I'm still not finished with my essay.
This blog post gives many more examples and goes into detail about the different uses of doch. I feel, though, that everything falls into place once you understand the chief definition of the word. The nicest thing about living in a German-speaking region is that I can use it even in English conversations. Everyone understands what I mean and exchanges have a lovely, logical flow.
One last question remains open: do we need a word for a negative answer to a negative question? I actually think that no suffices for both situations, but perhaps there are languages that have one?
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; full entry at http://bit.ly/2FrOY2N)
2018 year-end meme
Sunday, January 6th, 2019 20:20The traditional year-end meme!
( Read more... )
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; full entry at http://bit.ly/2Fanz6h)
( Read more... )
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; full entry at http://bit.ly/2Fanz6h)
Pony request: comment feed
Thursday, December 13th, 2018 12:26Does anyone know if it's possible to get a feed of a given user's comments (or just your own) in Dreamwidth?
Context: I want to comment here more, which means I would like to set up a Beeminder goal for doing so, and those work a lot better if they're automatic (i.e. I want to connect the feed of my comments, on anyone's journal, to Beeminder so that it adds a datapoint to the goal whenever I write a comment). I don't mind using IFTTT to do the connecting. I can also see valid and obvious privacy reasons why this wouldn't be available, but maybe it does?
Disclaimer: using external tools to make me communicate more with humans might feel weird and artificial, but -- *handwaves in ADHD* -- that's how my brain works. Sometimes. When it does.
Context: I want to comment here more, which means I would like to set up a Beeminder goal for doing so, and those work a lot better if they're automatic (i.e. I want to connect the feed of my comments, on anyone's journal, to Beeminder so that it adds a datapoint to the goal whenever I write a comment). I don't mind using IFTTT to do the connecting. I can also see valid and obvious privacy reasons why this wouldn't be available, but maybe it does?
Disclaimer: using external tools to make me communicate more with humans might feel weird and artificial, but -- *handwaves in ADHD* -- that's how my brain works. Sometimes. When it does.
NaNoWriMo 2018: Success!
Sunday, December 2nd, 2018 16:31November is National Novel Writing Month, a holiday obviously named by Americans. It's the month when people all over the world try to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days, competing only against themselves, the clock, their daily responsibilities and their pernicious 'inner editors'. This year, for the first time in ten years, I won!
( Read more... )
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; original entry at https://ift.tt/2zEFlKz)
( Read more... )
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; original entry at https://ift.tt/2zEFlKz)
Review: the Molly Sheldon series by Aurora Smythe
Sunday, August 5th, 2018 16:55Corpse Position, Dark Alley Books, 2012
Down Dog, Dark Alley Books, 2013
Salute to the Sun, Dark Alley Books, 2018
Now that the final volume in Aurora Smythe's Molly Sheldon series has been published, I thought it would be a good time to review the whole thing. I ordered new copies of all three books (so as to get the brand-new matching cover art) and have been working through them all week. Or, as my partner put it last night, "Are you still reading those Vampire Yoga Instructor books?"
( Read more... )
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; original entry at https://ift.tt/2M0VhOI)
Down Dog, Dark Alley Books, 2013
Salute to the Sun, Dark Alley Books, 2018
Now that the final volume in Aurora Smythe's Molly Sheldon series has been published, I thought it would be a good time to review the whole thing. I ordered new copies of all three books (so as to get the brand-new matching cover art) and have been working through them all week. Or, as my partner put it last night, "Are you still reading those Vampire Yoga Instructor books?"
( Read more... )
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; original entry at https://ift.tt/2M0VhOI)
I made a game! It's my first finished Twine game (actually my first finished computer game at all) and it's about numbers stations. It's up on itch.io and you can play it in the browser (N.B. it has autoplaying music). The soundtrack was made by my partner David and it's very good and spooky.
There's a post with more detail about the background of the game on my blog. I hope you enjoy it!
There's a post with more detail about the background of the game on my blog. I hope you enjoy it!
January 2018
Thursday, February 1st, 2018 18:12I glided into the new year on the warm reflection of how much I achieved in 2017, only to crash into the realisation, ten days in, that I still have to keep getting things done this year as well. And that it was January, a cold dark month with nothing at the end of it but February.
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; full entry at http://ift.tt/2DWyoZp)
(Crossposted from Katzenfabrik; full entry at http://ift.tt/2DWyoZp)
