jazzfish | Entries tagged with love

*squints at textfile of half-finished entries*

I don't know if this is a stress response or what, but: lately I'm getting plot-anxious when reading books I've not read before. I've only consciously noticed it recently, with Fonda Lee's Green Bone trilogy (which is /great/ for lots of reasons). There came a bit, maybe a third of the way through the first book, where it looked like a major character might die, and I caught myself flipping towards the back of the book looking for dialog tags with their name. (They did /not/ die, which I ascertained quickly. It's an open question what I would have done if they had died, since that's not something that can be trivially established with a random sample.) It's weird.

I'm managing it by alternating new-book with reread, which is also good in that I retain books that I've read twice substantially better than books I've only read once. (This leads to the problem of "I remember disliking that book but I no longer remember why.")

This past weekend Erin and I saw a Canadian-themed boylesque performance, including a suggestive Newfie (the people not the dog) and a very raunchy rendition of what I am told is a French-Canadian children's classic. The show was not precisely sexy, but then the only other burlesque I've seen wasn't exactly sexy either. It /was/, both were, an awful lot of fun, and I got to smile a lot and laugh out loud a few times.

( description of injury )

( par-tay / sarah )

I used to get annoyed at my counselor for being of the sit-with-it-and-see-what-comes-up school of sorting through difficult brain-stuff. And it's entirely possible that a more proactive approach might have gotten me somewhere faster: I am really good at avoiding thinking about / being aware of things that might be difficult to process. However, I will admit that when this method works, it's a) effective and b) non-traumatic, both of which are nice. I may even be getting towards some sort of resolution / accommodation for some of my increasingly misnamed abandonment stuff.

Crossposts: https://jazzfish.livejournal.com/656282.html

We've unevacuated. The fire's listed as "contained," which I think means "it's probably not going to break through, unless something really unexpected happens." The evacuation order/alert was lifted on Sunday as Erin & Josh were rolling out from Williams Lake, and the house is getting back into shape.

Relatedly, it's autumn up here. There was fog a few mornings ago, and temps in the lower teens. I miss fall. It won't last long, I expect; the garden's already getting frost at night. Still.

Relatedly, plans for the Great October Nonworkening are afoot. So far all I know for certain is that it starts with Scintillation (successor to Farthing Party) in Montreal over Canucksgiving. Possibilities include MD Renfest, gaming in Arlington with John Kerr et al, and a trip to Blacksburg. (Now if the IRS would just give me my %&$ tax refund so I could start making solid plans...)

I have made pancakes, on a dry castiron griddle even, and they turned out well. (Previous experiments in making pancakes on castiron have tended to involve A Lot Of Oil, because that provides the texture Erin prefers and because when I'm at home I tend to use my nonstickish aluminum griddle.) This, coupled with yesterday's almost wholly satisfactory experiment in grilling cheeses, is likely to result in the elimination of the nonstickish aluminum griddle from my kitchen stock. I'm okay with this; it's had enough sticky burnt onto it that it's a pain to clean.

I did not in fact lose a friend last week.

Poking around looking for covers of Nick Cave's "The Ship Song" other than Concrete Blonde's, whose version I consider definitive solely by virtue of being the first one I heard, and I came up with the Sydney Opera House version. Moving and impressive.

Next Tuesday I will know whether Apple will deign to release another phone with Objectively Correct proportions (the iPhone 5/SE form factor; I explicitly Do Not Want a phone that is difficult to manipulate with only one hand, plus I like my headphone jack), and will be able to take steps to replace my dropped-too-often phone that currently has difficulty with things like "being a phone."

I have Commonweal 4 (Under One Banner) awaiting me on my phone; I have Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire with me here; at home I have the next volumes of Walter Jon Williams's space opera awaiting me. Not to mention books by Kat Howard, Claire Humphrey, and Fonda Lee. I'm continually committing Schopenhauer's error of mistaking the acquisition of books for the time in which to read them, but then I've been doing that for years and years now. It's just gotten worse in the last N.

I have a remarkable number of folks who love me and care about my wellbeing. I am not entirely certain what to do with this information, as "believe it entirely" is somewhat difficult.

Crossposts: https://jazzfish.livejournal.com/638161.html

PSA:

uilos and I have split up.

We still love each other a lot, and it's gonna be pretty rough for both of us for awhile. That said, if you feel like you need to choose between Team Tucker and Team Emily, I suspect Team Emily will need the support.

Doubt I'll be replying to comments, but we'll see.

Crossposts: http://jazzfish.livejournal.com/609390.html

Advice on how to play a gig, by Thelonious Monk: two pages of handwritten notes from Monk. "Don't play everything (or everytime); let some things go by. Some music's just imagined."

I Stopped Trying To Be Quiet During Sex & Here's What Happened: "I often forget to take care of myself, and to give myself the kindness I'd give to someone else."

When Your Greatest Romance Is a Friendship: "Maybe I looked like some nerdy gigolo or this elegant woman's attentive secretary. If we made no sense from the outside, it didn't matter. We were mostly looking at each other."

Snakisms: variations on the old game Snake, each inspired by various philosophical 'ism's (stoicism, asceticism, existentialism, etc). Hilarious.

Crossposts: http://jazzfish.livejournal.com/599476.html

This year we're not really celebrating Canucksgiving. We had a quietish weekend at home, since

uilos did *not* fly out to the southern tip of the Outer Banks in a hurricane. I am, however, drinking an Orange Julius in YVR and waiting to board a plane to SFO, and thence to DC for a little over twenty-four hours and then to Martha's Vineyard for the VP reunion.

It's a bit sad to miss out on an opportunity to gorge on good foods in good company, though.

uilos is already talking about cooking a turkey for Yanksgiving next month. I am not objecting to this plan in the slightest.

The lack of a big celebratory feast makes the holiday feel smaller, more compact, more personal. I'm okay with that. The couple of things I'm most thankful for are pretty personal too.

There's

uilos, obviously. I can say "Graydon has spoiled you for epic fantasy, hasn't he?" and she nods sorrowfully and then we spend the next five minutes talking about whether The March North ought to be labeled Book 0 Of The Commonweal. Such people are to be treasured, and you can't have this one because I found her first. (I mean, unless she decides she wants to.) Also, it is now and not seven years ago, and Now Is Not Then (something that perhaps she realised before I did), and while I wasn't looking we seem to have built ourselves a solid foundation for the next while.

"Only another fifty years,"
I say, "and then I promise
to let you go."
--Elise Matthessen, "Response ..."

And if Thanksgiving came in mid-September instead of mid-October, there it would have stayed, with probably some added grumbling about things that aren't as bad as I complain about them to be. Instead I get green-haired Erin, and what seems so far to be exactly the right relationship at exactly the right time. Erin, who patiently wormed her way past my defences, who thrives on touch as much as I do, who has become a Significant Presence in my life far faster than I would have ever expected. I am deeply curious to see the shape that this takes as it continues to develop; meanwhile, I'm thankful that someone who meshes so well with my quirks has dropped out of the north and into my life.

(I am not nearly prepared to quote poetry about Erin. I am barely ready to quote poetry to her.)

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Crossposts: http://jazzfish.livejournal.com/586410.html

As previously mentioned,

rbandrews and

diadelphous came out from Texas for the weekend. On Friday they braved the flurrying snow and went into the District to wander through the Smithsonian, accompanied by

uilos. I joined them all for dinner at Afterwords and we browsed the bookstore and got cupcakes from Hello Cupcake. (While waiting for them I had time to read It's A Book, which was very cute and also had a monkey.)

HC was out of the day's gluten-free cupcakes, which was a disappointment since half the point of going to Dupont was to pick some up so we'd have them the next day. Oh well. The cupcakes they had were delicious and totally worth the trip.

( But why, you may ask, did we need gluten-free cupcakes? )

Sunday we got up and saw our Texan visitors off, and stopped by my parents' place for my father's birthday lunch. Then we came home and collapsed for several hours.

People keep asking me if I feel any different. The only answer I've been able to come up with is "Now I have less cake."

Crossposts: http://jazzfish.livejournal.com/421116.html

From

nixve, Comment "WORDS" to this entry and I will comment back with five words I associate with you. Then you post this in your journal elaborating.

Games have many facets. Systems with rules that can be optimized, semisocial activities, entertainment, a source of friendly competition that's actually friendly, a strange way of telling stories. I've owned a copy of James P. Carse's Finite and Infinite Games for the better part of a decade now. Thanks for reminding me to slot it into the queue.
Books are nicer, more interesting, and less scary than people. (Except for 1984, which freaked me right the hell out.) My paternal grandfather had the back wall of his living room done in wall-to-wall bookcases. It's no accident that his house is one of the few places I can think of as "home."
Patriarchivore would be my nom de blog if I were to start / join a feminist blog. Because some things just need devouring, that's why. Rar. (As a side note, I'm sympathetic to the argument that kyriarchy is a better term for the situation.)
Love is vital, and it makes me happy. I'm not sure what else can be said about it.
Barefeet have been part of my life for a very long time. I can remember getting yelled at for going without shoes in school as early as sophomore year. I love the feel of grass and dirt on my toes and I love the way my feet can bend more unshod.

I'm late, but the end of last month was kinda hectic. ( And I'm not entirely sure what to say in any event. )

uilos and I started dating close to eleven years ago. Even by the shortest count (from "officially started dating, this time") it's been over a year and a half. And we seem to fit pretty well together, so we figured we'd do something official-like.

Trouble is, neither of us like diamonds, and neither of us like the overtones of the whole 'buying a bride with an engagement ring' thing. So after a lot of discussion and saying "no that just looks dumb" (heart-shaped gems are simply ridiculous), we came up with designs for a semi-matched set of rings that we were happy with. And found a jeweler in Alexandria that was willing to work with us for a reasonable price.

We weren't really expecting it to take two and a half months, but Real Life appears to have intervened on the part of the jeweler. The results are definitely worth the wait, though.

(As to when we're getting married, eh. We'll probably be engaged for less time than we were dating. Probably.)

Current Mood: smug

Ten years ago I didn't think I'd see today. I wasn't sure I'd see next month, really. I was something of a mess. I had close-geographically friends, but none that I felt comfortable talking to about what was going on. (Mostly because I was having trouble acknowledging it myself.)

Ten years ago was a week after Technicon and two weeks after a spring break I'd spent with

scathach and her family. Ten years ago was my fourth semester in college.

Ten years ago I followed

uilos back to her dorm room rather than go home and lie there on my own in the dark.

It's been a bumpy ride at times but I wouldn't trade it.

Happy ten years, babe.

Current Mood: your beauty lights a candle
Current Music: that i hold in my hand

Profile

Tucker McKinnon

Words are inadequate

Syndicate

Adventures in Mamboland

"Jazz Fish, a saxophone playing wanderer, finds himself in Mamboland at a critical phase in his life." --Howie Green, on his book Jazz Fish Zen

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Words are inadequate

(the poor craftsman curses his tools)

Entries tagged with love

things of interest, short form

a small array of good things

endings

morning links

a smaller list than often, but no fewer thanks

so, that was a (Paper-ful) weekend

what do you read, my lord?

"On the other hand, it's been a week for bad ideas."

Secret Project Rock unveiled

". . . or would that spoil the mood?"

Profile

Syndicate

Most Popular Tags

Adventures in Mamboland

Expand Cut Tags