I left my mind behind in 2015

Jan. 15th, 2026 10:14 pm
sovay: (Sovay: David Owen)
[personal profile] sovay
Today was the yahrzeit of the molasses flood. I was last at Langone Park for the centenary, since which time the field has been renovated and a new marker erected in memory of the disaster and its dead. Seven years ago feels nearly a century itself.

Speaking of man-made needless awfulness, I have been made aware of the locally vetted aggregate of Stand with Minnesota, a directory of mutual aid, fundraisers, and on-the-ground support against the onslaught of ICE. All could use donations, since internet hugs are of limited efficacy against tear gas, batons, bullets to the face and legs. Twenty-three years ago feels like several worldlines back, but the Department of Homeland Security sounded absurdly, arrogantly dystopian then.

The fourth and last of this week's doctors' appointments concluded with an inhaler and instructions to sleep as much as possible. My ability to watch movies remains on some kind of mental fritz which upsets me, but I liked running across these poems.

six things make a post

Jan. 15th, 2026 09:14 pm
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
[personal profile] redbird

In no particular order:

*Last night, I talked with [personal profile] cattitude and [personal profile] adrian_turtle about possible text for my mother's gravestone. I emailed this to my brother today, with a note that these were what I was thinking of.

*I went to TJ Maxx to look for slippers. Disappointingly, there were none that came close to fitting: the ones that might have been in my size were all significantly too tight across the top of my foot. I was wearing thin socks (specifically, lightweight compression socks). It continues to be annoying that not buying slippers (for example) is as tiring as buying some.

*Also, my hips started hurting while I was in the store, so I decided not to look for other things, but headed home with only a quick stop at CVS, and not a grocery store.

*Today was definitely a good day to be outside; yesterday wasn't particularly, and tomorrow is likely to be a lot colder than today (with an afternoon high a little below freezing, so not horrible for January in Boston).

*I got email today from state senator Pat Jehlen, about a bill to ban the use of masks by law enforcement. This is noteworthy because I haven't lived in her district since 2019, and didn't think I was still on her mailing list.

*The skin on my fingertips, and on the rest of my hands, is doing a lot better. I will need to remember to keep applying the serious lotion, so it doesn't start splitting again. However, my shoulder is bothering me, which may be from doing a lot of mousing when I was avoiding using the keyboard.

redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
[personal profile] redbird
As is sometimes the case, I only heard about Christie and his part in the anti-apartheid fight after he died.

Renfrew Christie was a white South African scientist and member of the paramilitary wing of the African National Congress. He went to Oxford University and studied South Africa's history of electrification "so I could get into the electricity supply commission’s library and archives, and work out how much electricity they were using to enrich uranium," he told the BBC. That in turn let them figure out how much enriched uranium South Africa had, and many bombs it could build.

When he returned to South Africa, he was arrested and, after 48 hours of torture, wrote a forced confession, which he told the BBC was the best thing he ever wrote

noting that he had made sure the confession included “all my recommendations to the African National Congress” about the best way to sabotage Koeberg and other facilities.

“And, gloriously, the judge read it out in court,” Dr. Christie added. “So my recommendations went from the judge’s mouth” straight to the A.N.C.


Christie died of pneumonia last month, at the age of 76.

I'm linking to [personal profile] siderea's post, which includes the text of the (paywalled) NY Times obituary.

This Year 365 songs: January 15th

Jan. 15th, 2026 02:11 pm
js_thrill: goat with headphones (goat rock)
[personal profile] js_thrill
 Today we have Song for Mark and Joel:


The annotations on this song are, or at least feel, a bit inside baseball.  That's not, like, inappropriate. They explain how this song's chord structure is based on something the titular Mark and Joel do in one of their songs (Fortune Came Today) for their band Wckr Spgt, and so he used the chorus ("trouble came by") and the title to allude to Wckr Spgt. But it's written more for people who are in the know than for those who are not.  In the last annotation, Darnielle talked about how he liked that song because the narrator "withholds more than he shares", and so, I guess it is fitting that this annotation tells us some very specific details about the origin of this song, and him relating the homage to Mark and Joel, while hinting at all the stories not being told.

I did also listen to that Wckr Spgt song.  Wckr Spgt is not for me.  One thing I do find interesting is the music that John Darnielle likes that I don't.  Darnielle is a big fan of metal, and that has not really been my genre.  He wrote a book of epistolary novel music criticism about Black Sabbath, and he was a guest expert on Judge John Hodgman's podcast one time for a dispute about heavy metal.  (Nothing against metal! My girlfriend fiancée is a big metal fan. I'm sure there is metal I would like, to be honest, but it feels like it is in the "few and far between" category, rather than the "pop on any old playlist".) 

Anyway, I'm not sure how much of my awareness of this is related to just the sheer breadth of the musical styles that Darnielle appreciates (I can't actually imagine a general category of music he would shut down carte blanche), but I don't think it is just that, because he has strong identification with his roots in metal fandom, or his Wckr Spgt (dadaist punk?) influences/time-in-that-band. And I am not sure what to make of the fact that he mostly doesn't make music like that when he is making music, even though that's the music he has such fondness for. 

Krampus, by Brom

Jan. 15th, 2026 09:55 am
rachelmanija: (Books: old)
[personal profile] rachelmanija


Brom was a fantasy illustrator before he started writing his own books. They all contain spectacular color plates as well as black and white illustrations, which add a lot to the story.

Krampus opens with a prologue of the imprisoned Krampus vowing revenge on Santa Claus, then cuts to Santa Claus being chased through a trailer park by horned goblins, one of whom falls to his death when Santa escapes on his sleigh drawn by flying reindeer.

But he left his sack behind, which is promptly picked up Jesse, who just moments previously was considering suicide because he's basically a character from a country song: he's broke; his wife left him, taking their kid with her, and she's now with the town sheriff; Jesse never had the music career he wanted because of poor self-esteem and stage fright, AND he's being forced to do dangerous drug smuggling by the crime lord who runs the town with help from the sheriff. Santa's sack will provide any toy you want, but only toys; Jesse, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, uses it get his daughter every toy she's ever wanted, so now his wife thinks he stole them and the corrupt sheriff is on his ass again. And so are Krampus's band of Bellsnickles, who also want the sack because it's the key to freeing Krampus...

This book is absolutely nuts. The tone isn't as absurd as the summary might make it sound; it is often pretty funny, but it's more of a mythic fantasy meets gritty crime drama, sort of like Charles de Lint was writing in the 80s. Absolutely the best part is when Krampus finally gets to be Krampus in the modern day, spreading Yule tidings, terrorizing suburban adults, and terrifying but also delighting suburban children.

carbonel: Beth wearing hat (Default)
[personal profile] carbonel
Hi! It's been a while, so it's a bit embarrassing that my first post is asking for help, but maybe it'll inspire me to do a better job of posting (I do read DW regularly, at least).

I posted this query in a couple of unrelated forums and got a lot of suggestions but not the correct one, so I’m trying again here.

On a group on Ravelry, someone posted Mary Engelbreit’s classic illustration of life being a chair of bowlies, and that reminded me that I’ve been trying to remember the name of the same sort of popular artist from the 1990s, but her specialty was cats. Mostly realistic-looking cats based on ones she actually knew, in characteristic cat-type positions, but with lots of colorful decorations in the rest of the picture. I had a couple of calendars and an organizer with her work, but I’ve totally forgotten her name. It might be a three-name name. There were a couple of years when her art was pretty much everywhere, and then she faded quickly, alas.

Does this ring a bell for anyone?

ETA: One of my friends on Ravelry finally found it after (counts) twelve wrong guesses. There are a lot of cat artists out there! The artist in question is Lesley Anne Ivory.

Names that it's not:

B. Kliban
Laurel Burch
Doris Hays
Susan Herbert
Lesley Fotherby
Linda Jane Smith
Lisa Frank
Elizabeth Blackadder

Yuletide!

Jan. 15th, 2026 10:49 am
oracne: turtle (Default)
[personal profile] oracne
Please feel free to link me to all your Yuletide recommendations!

I gave up on most of my fanfiction reading logging the last couple of months, but hope to start that up again soon. In the meantime, I post TBR Challenge and monthly reading logs on my website/blog - I haven't been cross-posting here recently, my apologies, but my reading has been pretty sparse anyway. My December reading log goes live there Friday morning.

Pluses and minuses

Jan. 15th, 2026 02:54 pm
oursin: Coy looking albino hedgehog lifting one foot, photograph (sweet hedgehog)
[personal profile] oursin

This is being one of those weeks when I'm not sure if Mercury is in retrograde or in the opposite of retrograde, if there is an opposite.

In that some things are going unwontedly smoothly and unexpectedly well, and other things not, and plans being thwarted, etc.

E.g., further to the expeditious renewal of my library membership, I was going to boogy on down to the relevant institution to pick up my card and do a spot of light research (I think I may have copies of the books I need to look at but they are not in any of the places where I would anticipate them to be). However, it is chucking down rain in buckets, I think I will leave this until a drier day. Dangers untold and hardships unnumbered is one thing, sitting around with wet shoes in an airconditioned reading room is another.

However, in connection with the research, I remembered that Elderly Antiquarian Bookdealer/Bibliographer had mentioned to me a Person who has come up as Of Interest, and I thought I would see whether they are still around, and apparently they are at the latest report though nearly 90. And not only that, last year, why was I not told, there was published a limited edition from a small press of various of their uncollected writings, including an essay on the very person. This is something I would have bought anyway had I known it existed.

And lo and behold, I ponied up for this hardback, limited edition etc: and got a massively discounted price in their winter sale calloo callay.

On the prehensile tail, I managed to break a soup bowl at lunchtime. Fortunately not containing any soup.

Reading Wednesday

Jan. 14th, 2026 09:58 pm
troisoiseaux: (reading 6)
[personal profile] troisoiseaux
In War and Peace, Count Bezukhov has died, leaving - after some deathbed wrangling over multiple wills by grasping relatives - his illegitimate and bewildered son Pierre a wealthy noble, which surely will cause no one any problems. Interesting, in terms of narrative structure and the famous first line of another Tolstoy novel, that this is followed by an immediate smash cut to a different unhappy family, the Bolkonskys.

Poking along in Damon Runyon's Guys and Dolls and Other Writings; the "other writings" in this collection apparently include his 1920s-30s trial reporting, but I'm still on his 1930s-40s comedic gangster stories, which so far have universally ended with an impromptu marriage, except for the one that ended with the doll seducing and drowning the gangsters who killed her husband. I'm not sure that Runyon supports women's rights but he does support women's wrongs.

Also started another short story collection, China Miéville's Three Moments of an Explosion; I'm two stories in, both of which have had the feel (which I'm really liking so far!) of picking up a concept— a future where brand logos can be coded into "the mottle and decay of subtly gene-tweaked decomposition" (or detonation, per the titular flash fiction), or long-melted icebergs return to float over London while coral blooms across Brussels— and turning it around to see the way light reflects off of its different facets, and only just long enough to see each different flash of light.

(no subject)

Jan. 14th, 2026 08:28 pm
skygiants: the aunts from Pushing Daisies reading and sipping wine on a couch (wine and books)
[personal profile] skygiants
On the first weekend of January [personal profile] genarti and I went along with some friends to the Moby-Dick marathon at the New Bedford Whaling Museum, which was such an unexpectedly fun experience that we're already talking about maybe doing it again next year.

The way the marathon works is that people sign up in advance to read three-minute sections of the book and the whole thing keeps rolling along for about twenty-five hours, give or take. You don't know in advance what the section will be, because it depends how fast the people before you have been reading, so good luck to you if it contains a lot of highly specific terminology - you take what you get and you go until one of the organizers says 'thank you!' and then it's the next person's turn. If it seems like they're getting through the book too fast they'll sub in a foreign language reader to do a chapter in German or Spanish. We did not get in on the thing fast enough to be proper readers but we all signed up to be substitute readers, which is someone who can be called on if the proper reader misses their timing and isn't there for their section, and I got very fortunate on the timing and was in fact subbed in to read the forging of Ahab's harpoon! ([personal profile] genarti ALMOST got even luckier and was right on the verge of getting to read the Rachel, but then the proper reader turned up at the last moment and she missed it by a hair.)

There are also a few special readings. Father Mapple's sermon is read out in the New Bedford church that has since been outfitted with a ship-pulpit to match the book's description (with everyone given a song-sheet to join in chorus on "The Ribs and Terrors Of the Whale") and the closing reader was a professional actor who, we learned afterwards, had just fallen in love with Moby-Dick this past year and emailed the festival with great enthusiasm to participate. The opening chapters are read out in the room where the Whaling Museum has a half-size whaling ship, and you can hang out and listen on the ship, and I do kind of wish they'd done the whole thing there but I suppose I understand why they want to give people 'actual chairs' in which to 'sit normally'.

Some people do stay for the whole 25 hours; there's food for purchase in the museum (plus a free chowder at night and free pastries in the morning While Supplies Last) and the marathon is being broadcast throughout the whole place, so you really could just stay in the museum the entire time without leaving if you wanted. We were not so stalwart; we wanted good food and sleep not on the floor of a museum, and got both. The marathon is broken up into four-hour watches, and you get a little passport and a stamp for every one of the four-hour watches you're there for, so we told ourselves we would stay until just past midnight to get the 12-4 AM stamp and then sneak back before 8 AM to get the 4-8 AM stamp before the watch ticked over. When midnight came around I was very much falling asleep in my seat, and got ready to nudge everyone to leave, but then we all realized that the next chapter was ISHMAEL DESCRIBES BAD WHALE ART and we couldn't leave until he had in fact described all the bad whale art!

I'm not even the world's biggest Moby-Dick-head; I like the book but I've only actually read it the once. I had my knitting (I got a GREAT deal done on my knitting), and I loved getting to read a section, and I enjoyed all the different amateur readers, some rather bad and some very good. But what I enjoyed most of all was the experience of being surrounded by a thousand other people, each with their own obviously well-loved copy of Moby-Dick, each a different edition of Moby-Dick -- I've certainly never seen so many editions of Moby-Dick in one place -- rapturously following along. (In top-tier outfits, too. Forget Harajuku; if you want street fashion, the Moby-Dick marathon is the place to be. So many hand-knit Moby Dick-themed woolen garments!) It's a kind of communal high, like a convention or a concert -- and I like concerts, but my heart is with books, and it's hard to get of communal high off a book. Inherently a sort of solitary experience. But the Moby-Dick marathon managed it, and there is something really very spectacular in that.

Anyway, as much as we all like Moby-Dick, at some point on the road trip trip, we started talking about what book we personally would want to marathon read with Three Thousand People in a Relevant Location if we had the authority to command such a thing, and I'm pitching the question outward. My own choice was White's Once And Future King read in a ruined castle -- I suspect would not have the pull of Moby-Dick in these days but you never know!

inherited IRA, part too many

Jan. 14th, 2026 04:56 pm
redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
[personal profile] redbird
I thought that all the money had been transferred from my mother's IRA account at BNY to my account at Fidelity at the end of December.

Last week, I got a message from Fidelity saying that a transfer couldn't be completed, and BNY needed to talk to me. That message was _exactly_ the same as the one I got in November, so I wasn't even sure this was a real thing rather than a glitch.

After several days of wrestling with phone trees and leaving messages with my advisor at Fidelity, I tried BNY again this afternoon. That wound up being a long phone call, including a long time on hold while the person I was talking to looked things up.

What he was able to tell me is that there is some amount of money greater than zero still in my mother's name at BNY, possibly capital gains on the money they had already transferred. The person I was talking to said he couldn't tell me how much, but that based on this call, I could have Fidelity call BNY and tell them to transfer this money.

But that would be too simple: Fidelity said they would need a current statement on the account. So, back to BNY, whose system is set up to provide information to people with accounts they can log into. The available workaround is for them to send me a request form, and for me to attach a copy of my mother's death certificate, and my driver's license, and then I should have it in 1-5 business days.

In the meantime, I have emailed my brother, who told me that any amount of money still in Mom's name in 2026 would complicate things for him as executor. (I was pleased to be able to email him on December 30 and tell him that the transfer had finally been completed.)

Your spirit watched me up the stairs

Jan. 14th, 2026 02:54 pm
sovay: (Default)
[personal profile] sovay
My schedule for Arisia this year is minute, but a fairly big deal for me since the state of my health last allowed me to participate in programming in 2021. I mean, at the moment the state of my health is failed, but I'm still looking forward.

Dramatic Readings from the Ig Nobel Prizes
Saturday 3 pm, Amesbury AB
Marc Abrahams et al.

Highlights from Ig Nobel prize-winning studies and patents, presented in dramatic mini-readings by luminaries and experts (in some field). The audience will have an opportunity to ask questions about the research presented—answers will be based on the expertise of the presenters, who may have a different expertise than the researchers.

Cursed Literature
Sunday 4:15 pm, Central Square
Mark Millman (m), Alastor, Kristina Spinney, Sonya Taaffe

Some literature describes haunted houses; other books seem like they are haunted, as though the act of reading the book is inviting something vaguely unclean into the reader's life. Whether considering the dire typographical labyrinths of The House of Leaves, or the slowly expanding void at the heart of Kathe Koja's Cypher, some works leave a mark. Panelists will explore books that by reputation or their own experience, produce a lingering unsettled feeling far beyond the events and characters of the story.

SFF on Stage
Sunday 5:30 pm, Porter Square B
Raven Stern (m), Andrea Hairston, Greer Gilman, Sonya Taaffe, Stephen R. Wilk

Science fiction and fantasy have long been mainstays of live theater; William Shakespeare wrote A Midsummer Night's Dream in 1595. Peter Pan introduced one of the 20th century's best known characters in 1904. In 1920, R.U.R. gave us the word "robot." Universal Studios' famous version of Dracula was adapted not from the novel, but the wildly successful Broadway play. That's not even getting into modern musicals like Wicked or Little Shop of Horrors. What does it take for genre to work in a live setting, and where have we seen it succeed (or fail)?

Anyone else I can expect to see this weekend? The ziggurat awaits.
oursin: Photograph of small impressionistic metal figurine seated reading a book (Reader)
[personal profile] oursin

What I read

Finished Dream Count - not quite up to her earlier works? all being a bit of the moment (starting in lockdown and so on)? Will see what comes out in discussion.

Mick Herron, Clown Town (Slough House, #9) (2025) possibly getting that series-dip effect a bit? And was I really supposed to be flashing on the Marx Brothers' stateroom scene in A Night at the Opera during one particularly fraught episode?

Matt Lodder, Tattoos: The Untold History of a Modern Art (2024), which was very impressive (and copiously illustrated) and one guesses a bit of a passion project*. Interesting that there is a recurrent theme of tattooing coming out from being a subcultural thing among lowlives: when the story in fact is that they were the ones for whom body art would be being recorded for identification, in muster-rolls or prison records etc, and people of more genteel status would not be In The Record as being inked unless for some unusual particular reason. And that its being/becoming a fashionable thing has cycled around or maybe always been there. Also fascinating the links between tattooers and the development of a subculture/s.

*Yes, we would like to see what he's got portrayed....

I intermitted this with JD Robb, Framed in Death (In Death, #61), which had come down to the (nostalgic) price of old mass-market paperbacks (now defunct). Not one of the stronger entries, yet again, serial killer with very specific modus.

On the go

Eve Babitz, I Used to Be Charming: The Rest of Eve Babitz (2019) collection of her journalism, 1975-1997.

Up next

Well, I don't suppose that the books from local history society - which I have now been informed are available and can be purchased - will arrive very shortly, so dunno.

They're All Terrible 1-3

Jan. 14th, 2026 11:22 am
rachelmanija: (Books: old)
[personal profile] rachelmanija
A Bad Idea comic by Matt Kindt, Ramon Villalobos and Tamra Bonvillain. A swords and sorcery parody/pastiche about a group of badass, backstabbing, greedy, terrible people tasked with saving a peaceful city from invaders. I picked this up based on the art, which is spectacular - I especially love the unusual color palette.





Unfortunately, the story is both cliched and kind of edgelord, and I didn't care about any of the characters. Also, the art is extremely gory - the panel above is mild. So I won't be continuing this series, but I may look into what else Ramon Villalobos, the artist, has done.

This Year 365 songs: January 14th

Jan. 14th, 2026 01:45 pm
js_thrill: goat with headphones (goat rock)
[personal profile] js_thrill

 The song for today is Going to Norwalk:

 

There was a period shortly after I got into the Mountain Goats when I basically didn't listen to anything else (I don't have too much to say about this song in particular or about the annotations today, so I guess I am just going to tell a story about me and my journey with the Mountain Goats, instead).

And during this period, I was hanging out with my brother, which is not super usual, because after college he and I have never lived particularly close to each other, so we see each other at holidays or for particular visits.  He must have been visiting me, because I wouldn't have been in charge of the music when visiting him.  Anyway, he was not enthused with my constant choice of Mountain Goats as the soundtrack in the car, and even though he had really not heard that much of it, he had an uncanny knack for imitating the cadence of Darnielle's singing, and for making up lyrics that were 100% not Darnielle-esque lyrics but which were annoyingly near enough to be very good "dismissive joke version of Darnielle lyrics."*

Anyway, this song reminded me of the time my brother did that so many times in one visit that I was like "ok fine, we can listen to something else, but that's not what this sounds like" and he said "Lew" (he is one of three people who calls me Lew), "that is exactly what it sounds like."

 

*To simulate this effect, you basically have to imagine someone talking about random things from their day, mixed with a sort of pastiche impression of Bob Dylan patter from Subterranean Homesick Blues, but, and I have to stress this, being very good at doing it on the fly.

More Loon Art

Jan. 14th, 2026 09:15 am
lydamorehouse: (nic & coffee)
[personal profile] lydamorehouse
 Laser Loon melting ICE
Image: albino loon (one of which has been spotted near Minnesota) melting ICE with LASER EYES by Cat Saint-Croix.

I have to say that I also really love the outpouring of art that has been happening. 

Speaking of art, last night I happened to see that a group of my Hamline-Midway neighbors were gathering at a random street corner to sing. The idea was just to gather in a low-risk way so that some very little children could join. Also, in hopes that if there were neighbors nearby in hiding from the gestapo, they could hear our voices. The temps are dropping here, so there weren't very many of us. Probably a dozen? But we stood together in a circle and raised our voices and sang old protest songs, some hymns, and even one pop song ("Lean on Me.")

Did it stop ICE? No. Was it extremely cathartic? Fully. Did I heal my soul a little? Yes, it helped. 

In my effort to do SOMETHING every day, I'm hoping to join one of the pedestrian bridge brigades today. It's at an awkward time for me (right when I need to get Shawn from work), but, if nothing else, I might spend some time making a poster or two. 

It's funny because we are absolutely a metro area under seige, but it is also fully possible to go through your day and not see anything? My grocery stores are open--even Shanghai market. Shawn is going to work. Mason is applying to law schools, going over to his uncle's to do handiperson work... life is kind of going on, while also very much NOT for so many of us. 

(no subject)

Jan. 14th, 2026 09:37 am
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] ljgeoff!
radiantfracture: Loon linocut with text Stupid Canadian Wolf Bird (stupid Canadian wolf bird)
[personal profile] radiantfracture
A new series of Poetry Unbound has begun, and gorgeously, with Anishinaabe poet Kimberly Blaeser's "my journal records the vestiture of doppelgangers."




“my journal records the vestiture of doppelgangers”
Kimblerly Blaeser


i.

Remember how the loon chick climbs to the mother’s back.

Oh, checkerboard bed and lifted wing—oh, tiny gray passenger

who settles: eyes drooping closed, webbed foot lifted like a flag!

Each day, each week, I write missives—Mayflies' transparent wings

a stained glass—fluttering across the surface of lake.
An impermanence.

Imagos who transform: molt made glitter as splayed bodies on water.

I write the red crown, mad V of vulture-wings drying in morning sun.

I record red squirrel swimming (yes! swimming) across a small channel.

ii.

I barely breathe watching the narrow body (a mere slit of motion)

dark and steady like all mysterious—paddle, paddle, and arrive

now climb bedraggled and spent onto the small safety of a floating log.

It rests. We catch our breath. Now it scurries ahead to the other log end.

Here my journal stutters with a squirrel story bigger than words:

Unfathomably, it plunges back into blue chance—into uncharted.

We are never done, it says, with a body tiny enough to know.

The world is large, it says, with a courage I am greedy to learn.

iii.

Praise here all fabulous unwritten. Each shimmer of spent body,

journey from rest to blue next. Who, I ask, is the blissful beaver

devouring each yellow water lily if not our doppelganger?

Continually, I feel paws pulling, mouth filled with flower lust—

what little rooms are words in these seasons of plenty.

* * * * * *

Pádraig Ó Tuama's commentary is, as always, tender, attentive, and personal. He seems very taken by the squirrel (as who would not be?).

It's interesting that he glosses the "imago" in section i as theological, the Imago Dei. I read it first literally as a phase of insect development, and then psychoanalytically as an internalized image of an idealized self based on the Other -- but it strikes me that this second reading probably derives from Ó Tuama's source, Lacan having been raised within Catholicism.

I like Blaeser's use of "doppelganger," how slightly off-kilter and irreducible it is, how it makes the images not just celebratory but metaphysical and eerie - ties back into that reading of "imago."

What do you hear?

§rf§

More Laser-Eyed Loon Art

Jan. 13th, 2026 01:52 pm
lydamorehouse: (Default)
[personal profile] lydamorehouse
 laser loon
Image: the "don't tread on me" snake being beheaded by a laser-eyed loon with the Minnesota flag on its chest (created by Andrew Prekker).

You know I love my laser-eye loons and I could not have been happier to see this art pop up on my Facebook Feed. Andrew is selling this art on Redbubble and I bought a t-shirt immediately. (Feel free to click the link and get your own merch.) For those of you new to my journal, I posted about Minnesota's collective enjoyment out of imagining that the red eyes of the loon could (and should!) shoot laser beams in the past. My library card has a loon with lasers shooting out of its eyes and we NEARLY had a state flag with a loon shooting laser beams out of its eyes.

One thing I have learned while living in a police state is that I need to do one good thing a day or I go out of my mind with stress. Today, when I realized I was just pacing around the house trying not to doom scroll, I found out that Smitten Kitten (for out-of-towners, this is a sex positive, trans and queer owned sex shop) has been acting as a distribution center for people who are in hiding from the gestapo. They put out a call for diapers, etc. So, I hopped in my car, bought a few things at my local Menards, and then drove over to drop them off. Just feeling the energy in the shop, being greeted by people still excited to see my queer D&D t-shirt (actually ConFABulous, which I talked to the person about potentially coming to this next year)... it felt good, maybe even kind of normal in a This is NOT normal sort of way?

Right now, at 6:30 pm,  I'm going to go throw on my coat and go sing with some neighbors. I am, apparently, someone who needs to DO.  

Stay strong out there, everybody!



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