fog and links

On clear days I can see the mountains behind North Vancouver out my window. On cloudy days the inlet's obscured, so it's just the cedars in Stanley Park with a spooky mist behind. Right now I can't even see that far; the fog has taken the Westin tower (no great loss) and all the glass condos except for the closest one. I'm starting to get a bit nervous. If you don't hear from me for a few days send a search party.

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Where the End of Mail as We Know It Really Came From: "You really have to give the conservatives credit on this one. It's a damn masterpiece." US as failed state in three, two...

I Just Want to Go on a Walk is worth reading in full. The comments (yes, I know better) also provided this: "People who steal unlocked cars usually still get caught, chased down, (often) shot by police, cuffed, and sent to prison for decades. In NO court of law is leaving a car unlocked an excuse for car theft."

"Why didn't you kick him in the balls?" explores why that's a stupid question to ask someone.

On a lighter note, I was unaware that Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett, 18th Baron Dunsany, was possessed of a sense of humor. (Also, anyone referring to Lord Dunsany in print should use his full name at least once, because it is the second most awesome twentieth-century name I can think of after Sir Rupert Iain Kay Moncreiffe of that Ilk, 11th Baronet.)

Graduate School Barbie (TM): "WARNING: Do not place Grad Student Barbie and Real Job Skipper too close to each other, as there have been several cases of children leaving the room and coming back to find Barbie's hands mysteriously fused to Skipper's throat."

Oldest and Fatherless: The Terrible Secret of Tom Bombadil: "A question: what is the most dangerous place in Middle Earth? First place goes to the Mines of Moria, home of the Balrog, but what is the second most dangerous place? Tom Bombadil’s country."

Squadron Leader Fuchida Mitsuo Liveblogs World War II: December 7, 1941

And while we're on the subject, xiphias has found what he calls the most awesome photo EVER. I can't really argue.

hiding

Right, so, I've been hiding.

About the only non-hidey thing I've done has been to go out to a party last Friday night, at which I expected to know no one, in the hopes that I would Meet Some People. This worked about as well as you might think:

8-9: Hold occasional scattered bits of conversation.
9-11: Hey, rainbowk and company are here! Spend two hours in a good conversation with them.
11-12: Hold occasional scattered bits of conversation.

Around midnight I involved myself in a political discussion / multiperson rant, on the theory that we're all likely to be on more or less the same side, being a buncha pinko commie hippies and all. That came to an abrupt end when the person I was talking to professed a sincere belief in a conspiracy that's been controlling all governments etc for thousands of years. At that point there's really not much discussion that can be had, so I turned to the guy in tie-dye on the other side of me. Turns out he's from Floyd county, next-door to Blacksburg where I lived for ten years. He's also an unreformed Black Helicopters and UFOs type himself, as were a not insignificant number of other people in the room.

I wanted to shake them all, and shout "STOP MAKING MY SIDE LOOK BAD!" This would have been a bit awkward, so instead I made my excuses and left at the earliest possible opportunity.

(There is a tiny sense of exultant power that comes with riding the bus late at night, and knowing how to navigate the maze of twisty little bus routes. I'm rather enjoying living in the city without a car.)

So anyway, hiding. This mostly expresses itself through not wanting to do anything except play stupid computer games over and over, or comfort reading, or things of that sort. I would very much like to have been doing, say, Xmas shopping (somewhat more time-sensitive as nearly everything needs to be shipped internationally, unless we want to take a trip down to Point Bob and use their post office), or, you know, WRITING, but I just.couldn't.do.it.

... an exploration of what exactly I was hiding from, and what I can do about that, will have to wait until I'm a bit more awake.