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Genus Loci - Printed and Promoted by John Brace (Liberal Democrats), 28 Falkland Street, Birkenhead, CH41 0BD. Published by Six Apart Ltd. 548 4th St San Francisco, CA 94107 USA
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 12th, 2009|11:36 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  okay | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Band of Gold by Freda Payne | ] |
Went to Portsmouth City Museum last night for Oddsocks' performance of Richard III. It was an open air show, with a small metal stand and a couple of rows of chairs, all completely uncovered. The only problem was it rained all evening, sometimes rather heavily. I was wearing my new Island Games rain jacket...but of course that provided no protection for my bottom half.
Ann and her book group arrived about ten minutes before the start; we said a quick hello. In traditional Oddsocks style the play was preceded by the cast playing tunes on medieval instruments, then they introduced their Oddsocks alter egos. Kaitlin Howard was Izzie Breathin again; she announced "I play one of England's most famous and formidable Queens, Elizabeth I..."
Stan Dandyliver interrupted "Er...no, you're not that Queen Elizabeth. You're Edward IV's wife."
"Oh." Izzie soon recovered her cheerfulness : "On the bright side, that means I don't have to be the Virgin Queen now!" She turned to face one handsome guy in the front row who was among those cheering that announcement and winked with a nudging gesture "I'll see you later!"
Artistic Director Andy Barrow became Will Barrow, and said "I play the rightful heir to the throne, a good king, a kind, honourable man - Richard III!" Roland Foloffaclif pointed out "Actually, he's a hunchbacked, scheming, power-crazed child murderer."
Will rightly replied "According to Shakespeare. Who wrote for the king that won."
The play followed Shakespeare's script - though a few scenes not essential to the main plot were cut out - with several Oddsockian ad-libs between the lines (Richard greeted murderer Tyrell as 'a purveyor of potato crisps' and promised him 'one of Mr Walker's recipes' as a reward; he offered Buckingham 'the earldom of Southsea' but the duke said it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on), plus many a visual joke. Chamber pots were emptied over people's fronts; the Princes were smothered with their teddy bears; when Richard needed somewhere to rest his pike to woo Anne Neville he stuck it in Henry VI's corpse, causing pink party string to shoot out; Anne Neville dies suddenly of drinking poisoned wine and is carried off, legs around the neck of Catesby, who straightaway loses his wig - Richard quips "I dread to think where it's gone" and Catesby replies that at least it'll be warm... Best visual joke was the head of Lord Hastings. With diligent use of props and trap doors in the stage, they showed the actual head of the actress who played him on a plate under a lid; the plate was lifted up and moved around several times, and she would always be in the right place whenever her head needed to be displayed.
Being Oddsocks, there was a measure of audience participation. We were divided down the middle into Lancastrians and Yorkists and each given a battle cry to shout with accompanying arm motions. We had to boo Richard at appropriate moments; several times he replied to the boos with "Pathetic" or "All at once, or not at all", and once said to the court "I apologise for the herd of cows".
Ann and I had more of a chat at the interval, about our respective new jobs and my holiday. Everyone took cover from the rain in the cafe, which did a roaring trade in coffee, tea and huge wodges of cake. One of the Oddsocks troupe came into the cafe to exhort us "It's nice and dry in the merchandise tent." The interval was extended to half an hour to let all the large crowd get served.
Ann and I walked back to the ferry together, still in pouring rain, and discussed shows we'd seen and her and Steve's holiday plans, then home to dry off. |
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| Two Dreams A Day. . . . |
[Jul. 11th, 2009|02:49 pm] |
July 3, 2009
In this dream I was at. . . some sort of teahouse I think, all of it had a heavy Asian influence. At the counter two girls were working, they seemed very nice and had given me hot tea in a slightly-taller-than-normal coffee mug and (from their own incentive) some sort of muffin or cookie or something else along those lines. Each came on their own small dish and I couldn’t quite balance them properly in each hand, specifically the tea, it seems I couldn’t carry it to the table in one hand as it was too tall to balance by holding it’s resting dish. It kept spilling over the side of the mug. I placed the mug down and decided that I would take one thing at a time to my table.
I had arrived at this place with my father, mother, step-mother, and step-sister. Including myself it was five people in total and I needed to choose a table because I was going to sit before everyone else. There were a few seats around the place, but I decided on sitting at the table shaped like a coffin. But the table was missing a seat.
I don’t know how we worked it all out but my parents sat on each side of me, my father to my left and my mother to my right. My step-mother sat opposite my mother and my step-sister was at the head of the coffin shaped table to my father’s left. She complained about being cold and my mother gave her-her jacket.
July 11, 2009
In this dream there was a small snake, a black mamba, though unlike the real snake the one in the dream was deep black in colour and was only about 2 feet in length. It would slither around the house and appear from time to time. Over the course of, perhaps a month, it would bite me every so often. For some reason during the first time I was bitten, I had anti-venom in the house to use. I would apply the anti-venom by cutting into my arm with a razor blade and allow the anti-venom to drip down the blade into the cut I made.
During the final time, the razor blade had become dull and I had to push really hard in order for it to actually cut me. When I finally made the cut and applied the anti-venom I found that I had cut too deep and had nearly cut my left arm off on the diagonal towards my elbow, severing one of the bones in half. With quick thinking I used the cardboard roll from a paper towel dispenser to wrap around my arm and secured it with medical tape.
Still, I needed to go to the hospital. After arriving there I found that I had to wait a really long time before anyone would take a look at my arm. Even then all I got was a nurse telling me that I could go home despite the severity of my injury. I really wanted to see a doctor, but no one would treat me.
I ended up meeting some people and things get really hazy. We all went to hang out and I found that my arm, while still clearly injured, was relatively fine. The cut was still there, but for some reason it felt as strong as ever allowing me to even do a few minor acrobatics. It had something to do with all the venom that had been introduced into my body, it had sealed the wound perfectly and was helping it heal. More than that it seemed as if the venom had changed me, made me something else, something more than human. Like not just the venom of the snake was in me, but part of it’s spirit as well. |
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| From The Mountains Of Columbia. . . |
[Jul. 11th, 2009|01:34 pm] |
I'm not a big coffee person, I often go months without drinking it. The same goes for tea.
But when I get a craving. . . . . I will not be denied.
I don't know what it is, but every once in a while something will click in my brain and be like "Must have coffee now! Or by Saturday at the latest.", No really, it's just like that. Thouhg because it's a craving, not just any coffee will do, in fact when I get cravings for anything they are always really specific. I'm very discerning that way.
Currently I am starving for a frappaccino from starbucks, I want one really bad. But as per usual, no one is willing to part with their car or drive me to get one. Normally it wouldn't be such an issue, but it's really pisses me off because if I wasn't feeling so shity at the moment, then I would have been able to get my coffee a good hour earlier than this post.
I hate living here. |
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| Iran Then and Now |
[Jul. 10th, 2009|11:38 am] |
Thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) tanith_astlik for pointing me to this:
http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-07-08/an-iranian-icon-on-todays-protests/
The link goes to an interview with Ahmad Batebi about his role in the 1999 protests and the protests still ongoing in Iran. Here's the beginning of the story:
[Yesterday was] the 10th anniversary of the day Iranians refer to simply as 18 Tir. On that day in 1999, a group of students who had holed up in Tehran University for six days to protest the government’s closure of a major reformist newspaper, Salaam, were savagely attacked by paramilitary forces under orders from the Revolutionary Guard.
The protests were the biggest of their kind since the fall of the shah two decades earlier—though they have been dwarfed by this past month’s protests, which have swept through the whole of the country. The university students had been emboldened by then-President Mohammad Khatami’s reform agenda to demand greater rights, including the right to peaceful assembly and a free press. However, the regime, frightened by the spectacle, saw the student movement as a threat to the stability of the state. In what has now become a familiar sight, the government unleashed the full force of its security apparatus on the students
Early on the morning of 18 Tir—the date according to the Iranian calendar—while most of the students were asleep, Basij forces raided the dorms of Tehran University, indiscriminately beating and arresting people. In the melee, a bullet whizzed by the ear of Ahmad Batebi, a young university student, and lodged itself in the chest of his friend. Batebi took his friend’s shirt off and used it to put pressure on the wound, but to no avail. He then ran to the front of the protests and held the shirt aloft for all to see, a witness to the massacre that had just taken place.
A photographer in the crowd snapped his picture. The next day, the image was splashed across the cover of The Economist and instantly became a symbol of the uprising: It was the lonely Chinese man standing before a phalanx of tanks at Tiananmen Square, or, more perhaps more fittingly, it was Neda Agha-Soltan slowly bleeding to death on the streets of Tehran, blood pouring from her mouth and nose.
The day after Batebi’s picture appeared, the police arrested him. He spent the next 10 years in prison, most of it in solitary confinement, in a cell the size of a bathtub. He was repeatedly tortured and forced to undergo a mock execution. The government wanted him to sign a statement saying the blood on the shirt was not blood at all—it was tomato sauce. Batebi refused. |
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| Silence Implies Consent: Why We Need to Continue Supporting the People of Iran |
[Jul. 10th, 2009|09:55 am] |
35,000 people protested in Iran yesterday, marking the tenth anniversary of the brutal crackdowns at the universities in 1999, despite warnings from the government that they would be facing arrest and death.
These people are not backing down. This is not over.
http://iran.whyweprotest.net/news-current-events/10643-green-brief-23-july-09-a.html
21. In Tehran, the Telephone Directory Service was out, SMS was cut off again, cell phones weren’t working in several parts of the city and even land-lines were also cut off in some parts. Most Iranian televisions ignored protests almost completely. Some later showed limited footage. Press TV again claimed that the UK was unquestionably behind the unrest in Iran.
Where is the American mainstream media in all of this? Why are they still covering the death of a has-been musician and pedophile? Aren't they supposed to be covering the news?
CNN is a worldwide news source, and they could be a major voice for change and an end to repression. They have repeatedly over the past month failed their mandate. Maintaining silence in the face of brutality, repression, and censorship validates those tactics. All over the world, CNN is considered the voice of America. In the face of their indifference and their decision to suddenly become just another entertainment "news" source, they have failed us all and silenced our voice.
If we as a nation keep silent, if we ignore what is happening in Iran, we are in effect supporting their brutal regime and aiding them in their attempts to cut their people off from the rest of the world.
Every day I and many, many others are working hard to help the Iranian people be heard. Won't you please join us in speaking out against brutality and censorship? Email the news sources of your choice, let them know you want them to cover the REAL news. Speak up, in any way you can, in any venue you can, to anyone who will listen. Let the world know that repression and brutality no longer have a place in this world. Every voice matters...let yours be heard. |
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| Cheetah |
[Jul. 10th, 2009|12:50 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  artistic | ] |
At last, Furtopia have sorted out their FTP access doohickey. So I took the chance to upload this slinky picture of Heather who is a character of mine from a synthpop band.
Yep, really. |
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| Note To Self |
[Jul. 10th, 2009|09:46 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  stuck | ] |
1) Do not drop your brand new goth-fairy ornament on the floor as it has a tendency to break them. Not much, but a small amount of the wing flew off. As wings do.
2) When repairing said wing, using super glue, one should make better efforts not to get ones finger stuck to the wing. Super glue sets faster than I ever imagined! I was being so careful and yet it still happened. Luckily I realised in time and got my finger free before it got totally stuck, but a few seconds more and that would have been... interesting. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|09:07 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  recumbent | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | What Will The Angels Say? by The Katydids | ] |
Completed the last of the Training Database this morning, so I now move on to the next stage - coding out causes of real deaths, from data on the PC screen and complementary paper reports. Simon sat with me as I did my first four or five, then he was wanted by Mel so he left me to my own devices - though he checks my work in batches as I go and points out any errors I make. I did OK on my first batch, only having three corrections.
It was Mel's 40th birthday, so Bev let off a party popper full of confetti behind her (later someone asked Mel if she was getting married, but Health & Safety then demanded that all the stuff be swept up). People kept asking her how it felt to be 40 and saying she didn't look it - Demelza suggested she tell people she's 50 so they'd be blown away by how young she looked...
To the Thorngate after work to give blood. After the debacle last time, the National Blood Service had put a note 'Review Venepuncture' on the form they sent me through the post to hand in, so I had to explain what had happened then and that they had a history of having trouble finding a suitable vein. So I was entrusted to the care of Pete, who, more than one of the carers assured me, was a wizard at locating elusive veins. He managed to find one, and while it was deeper than most people's, he succeeded in inserting the device properly. He and the carers fell over themselves to try and make me feel comfortable, but there was no need, I'm a veteran donor - as soon as Pete said the device was in and right, I was fine. I completed my donation in just under five minutes. I think I rattled Mo, the lady at the refreshment table, when I asked for coffee when she was offering cups of tea, but she made a lovely cup of coffee... |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|12:51 pm] |
Last night I went to sleep with a slight sore throat and much like a girl at a bar who's drinking too much because she just got dumped by her boyfriend, I woke up with it as well.
Every so often I'll get a slight sore throat, it's been like that for as long as I can remember (and I can remember a long way back). Normaly it will last a day, not be that bothersome, and then be gone. I kinda figured it would be like that again, but I guess not. I was kinda hoping that after today things could go back to normal, meaning I would have anything that needed to be done or worried over. But that just wont be the case with me apparently getting sick.
I hate getting sick, it always ruins my day and the ones following. It's of course made worse by the fact that I don't have any nice warm tea to drink. Though I was thinking that at least it's not an ear ache. I haven't had one of those since I was a kid but I remember that being some excrusiating pain.
Today is my final dentist appointment for a long while I think, which is good. As it means that I wont have to fuss over when and for how long I'm sleeping. It also means that I should have two teeth fixed. . . assuming all goes according to plan. Perhaps even the anethetic I'll get will aleviate the pain my sore throat for a while. That would sure be nice.
After this I will be going back to sleeping during the day and hopefully spending my nights actually getting things done. I still have half a story to finish as well as the ones that follow. I can't help but be amused at the fact that if my current story had been a simple short story instead of a novella, I would have been done a long time ago. At least the next few are all short stories, none should be longer than 50 pages at the most. Though they will probably be shorter than that. I think 30-40 is a good mark, though I should probably let the stories themselves dictate their length.
I am, as always, eager to get them done and actually have people read them. I'm pretty sure that once I finish this current one that I will have the confidence I need to tackle the rest and complete them without too much difficulty. There are three in particular that I am anxious to complete, the sea voyage, the necromancer, and the automaton. I have good characters in each of them and hopefully stories that are good enough to keep them interesting.
Though to be honest I'm not writing as much or as often as I would like. I still have a deadline of next year to complete them all, but. . . . I really thought I would be getting these done faster than I have been. I mean after all I'm still on the first story. I'd like to think that it's all because of the simple fact that they take place chronologicaly and my doing them out of order is the problem, but it's not.
I think the real issue is that I'm so particular about the conditions in which I write. Conditions which, around here, are hard to come by with any regularity. Without my own personal space, I really am at a disadvantage. Though I guess all one can realy do at times like these is to simple muddle through.
In other news, on my way back from the dentist, I am hoping to pick up an issue of Detective Comics #854, which is the debut of Batwoman in her own series. I don't normally buy single issues as money prohibits it and limits me to trades, BUT. . . I know that if I don't pick it up I am going to regret it. I've been waiting for her to get her own series for a long while now. She has just about everything I like in a hero, even her costume is relatively practical. You can't go wrong with that.
The fact that she is a gay hero doesn't hurt either (you know how I love my gay heroes), nor does that fact that Renee Montoya (The new Question and Batwoman's former lover) appears in the book. The art work is AMAZING, like "holy shit hang that in the metropolitan" amazing. To top it all off, it's written by my most favourite of all comic writers, Greg Rucka, who can write female characters better than anyone. Period.
I mean really this book has everything going for it. You should all pick it up. |
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| When you wake up in the morning, it'll only be a dream |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|01:46 am] |
So many of you, my friends, my true family, are going through hard times. Some of you feel alone. Some want to give up.
I wish there was something, anything, I could say or do to make everything all right.
All I can do is share with you a song that has given me comfort so many times.
This is Danny Elfman back in the Oingo Boingo days, and I'll tell ya...that boy can sing me a lullabye any old time he likes. *Sigh* There aren't nearly enough gorgeous red-headed geniuses around...
Anyway, my dears, please remember...you're not alone, you are loved, and the world would be a far darker place without your light.
Everyone says sooner or later you'll reach the end of the line
When things get rough some think it's easy to jump the ship . . .
You decide
I say--don't throw it away
There's about a million reasons why
Though you've heard them all before
And you're getting very tired
Lay your head on my lap and I'll sing you this lullaby
CHORUS
Don't you know
That everyone around you
Has felt the pain you feel today
You're out of control yeah--and you want someone to tell you
When you wake up in the morning it'll only be a dream
You're out of control . . .
There's a cloud-rollin' overhead and it seems to rain on no one else
There's a black sun--casting a black shadow,
and I know you feel so all alone
You're out of control--and you want the world to love you
Or maybe you just want a chance to let them know
That you live and breathe and suffer
And your back is in the corner and you've got nowhere to go
Nothin' for nothin'--everything's right at your fingertips--for a price
Who ever said that life on this planet would ever be paradise
I say--don't throw it away, you've got too many things to say
If you throw your life, if you throw away your life . . .
THe world will never be the same
CHORUS
You're out of control--and you move without direction
And people look right through your soul
You're out of control--and you want someone to tell you
When you wake up in the morning it'll only be a dream
And I wish that I could tell you, it'll only be a dream |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 7th, 2009|07:18 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | peaceful | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Perfect Place by Voice of the Beehive | ] |
( Holiday )
First day back at work today. I spent most of it looking back over my answers' comparisons with the right results for the last ten or so batches, to refresh my memory of it all. Around 10 am Sue spotted I was looking a bit lagged; since she's been asked to get us all to do our e-learning modules about security awareness ASAP, she suggested I have a change of scenery and come over to Elaine's desk (Elaine's on holiday, but her PC, unlike mine, is rigged up for the learning modules) and do a couple of those.
Bumped into Carol #3 in the canteen at lunch time. She asked if I was liking my new job OK; I said it was going fine. "Don't you find it a bit depressing, dealing with deaths all the time?" she asked. I replied that after the telephone unit it was a walk in the park. |
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| Remnants. . . |
[Jul. 7th, 2009|12:20 pm] |
You know, I didn't even realize it was Stephanie's birthday until I saw the date.
Out of all of them, hers is the only one I still remember. I'm glad she's out of my life, but still sometimes I just. . . sometimes I miss how it was when it was good.
Though as the years pass on, it gets harder to remember what it was like when it was good.
Anyway, feeling kinda lost today and I don't really know what to do with myself, for reasons unrelated to the above. It happens to me sometimes, there is something specific I want to do but when I find I can't do it for whatever reason. . . I get stuck and end up sitting around trying to think up something else t do.
I wonder if I might be a robot. |
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