Rain and Roses

Brian and I went to see Public Enemies today, and then I came home and discovered that half my friendslist had done the same. So, because I'm lazy, and because he basically touched on everything I was going to say about it, I'm going to link to epi_lj's post on it, and call it good. (Thanks, dude!)

Our 3rd/4th of July celebration was really quite fun.  You couldn't ask for better weather - when we got out to the beach it was sunny and almost sweltering (fortunately a nice breeze coming off the ocean helped with that).  A few friends joined us and we got a fire going, and between the five of us there were plenty of drinks (alcoholic and non-) and food to go around.  Somewhere around my fourth bottle (over a period of hours, I wasn't drunk) I made a declaration that my usual eat-healthy mantra was suspended for the duration of the holiday, given how many liquid calories I was consuming.  Amusingly, though, aside from the drinks I think I actually ate healthier than normal - Brian made grilled salmon and corn on the cob, and I made honey mustard chicken sausage shishkebabs with peppers and zucchini and three-bean salad, and on the whole we had a rather delightfully gourmet barbeque.

Some moments that are sticking out in my mind:

• Reading the first bit of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies to Brian while we waited for folks to show up
• Almost stumbling over a young child of six or so, wrapped up in blankets and conked out on the beach around 11:00
• Watching kids playing on a tire swing in the exact same way I used to when I was young
• Hurriedly moving the campsite when the tide started coming in
• Justin declaring he was "going to move the fire"...and then actually doing it
• Amanda looking absolutely adorable with roasted marshmallow smeared all over her face (not that I'd know how *that* happened...*cough*)
• Realizing how much more effort it takes to dance in sand, although AC/DC on a portable boombox is a good motivator
• Discovering exactly how dangerous Mike's Hard Mango Punch can be, given that it doesn't taste like booze at all
• Justin declaring in a Generic European Accent, "Ahh...sneaky booze!  My favorite kind."
• Andy having us in stitches with stories from his past years at Burning Man, including one about the Blue Man (his nickname for the dude who was carried into the medical tent so drugged out that he'd fallen face-first into a port-a-potty)
• Singing "Rock Me Amadeus" to the radio with Andy (and, yes, dancing some too)
• Discussing Palin's surprise announcement and all but taking bets on whether she was leaving voluntarily or because the lid was about to pop off of some new and even more hilarious scandal
• Holding Brian while we watched the midnight fireworks

"You really ought to replace that stairway before someone breaks a leg and sues your ass.  A light would also be helpful."

From a letter dated 1977, from when Juneau was little more than a frontier guv'mint town.  Ah, history...

The NYT Magazine has a pretty cool article on "The Gay Generation Gap", which talks about some of the issues that younger gay men have been sniping at older ones (and vice versa) about - "You're cocky and entitled, you're sexually careless, you heedlessly take advantage of the benefits we spent our youths fighting for" vs. "You're obsessed with your own victimhood, you go on about AIDS like your parents went on about WWII, you think the only way to get anything is to get angry about it", etc.  It's interesting from a cultural perspective, but also oddly heartening - especially after watching Milk and realizing that it wasn't that long ago that being openly gay really was a serious liability.  Intergenerational sniping aside, the fact that we've gotten so far in the space of one generation is pretty astonishing in and of itself, and I only hope it continues to get better.

Dexter was having health issues over the weekend, which led to my being rather upset and depressed for much of Sunday. It wasn't anything serious, just a urinary tract infection, but I think I was having a hard time because of how quickly Mr. Jerry Brown had gone from "a bit out of it" to "seriously ill", and I was afraid the same thing would happen again. (Plus the inevitable large vet bill hovering over the horizon doesn't help one's state of mind any, especially when one has just paid for a wedding and is already on the uncomfortable side of "in debt".)

Anyway, getting the kitty diagnosed and treated did wonders to lighten my state of mind as well as my wallet, and somewhere in the intervening time I heard a clip from "Because I Got High". And the rest sort of...happened.

( Here there be bad song parodies. )

Seems like I've been doing a lot more reading, lately. Or maybe just writing about it more.

Joe Abercrombie's The Blade Itself: This book came highly recommended to me by a couple of friends, but I must admit, I wasn't too taken in with it at first. For the first hundred, hundred-and-fifty pages, I honestly couldn't tell what was so great about it - the narrative was scattershot, the characters stereotypes, and the plot (what there was of it) a dreary slog. Especially troublesome to me were the characters - stock origins aside, only one of them was remotely likable, and he was the one we knew the least about. The rest were all various nasty people in various stages of depression or cluelessness, and frankly I didn't see why it was I'd want to spend any more time with them.

Somewhere along the line, however, that changed somewhat. The plot was still lacking in action, the revolving point-of-view approach still scattershot, but the people populating the story grew on me. One's plain-black internal monologue gradually got blackly humourous, another's arrogance became tempered with a small dose of self-awareness, and I found myself liking them rather more - to the point where I was disappointed when the book was finished, because I'd been enjoying the time I was spending with them.

Structurally, the novel is a bit of a mess; the author was obviously focusing on launching a series rather than telling a single story, and the slow start and lack of any real climax belie that. But plow through the narrative housekeeping, and as the voices of the various characters become stronger and surer, you may well forgive those deficiencies and find yourself looking forward to the next book rather more than you thought you would. I know I did. B-

I've had a love-hate relationship with the Cosmopolitan for some time now. It's quickly become a "classic" drink, and I've made variations on it many a time before, but frankly it's just never appealed to me that much no matter how I tinker with the proportions. So I pretty much gave up on trying to come up with a "good" recipe for one.

However, when I went to a drag show recently with Philip, I saw people walking around with "Cosmopolitans" that were an oddly appealing crimson color (as opposed to the pinkish-cranberry color that most of my home concoctions possessed). Out of curiousity, I gave one a go, and was surprised at how much I liked it. It didn't taste at all like the ones I'd made, and frankly it didn't taste like there was a single natural ingredient in it, but I found myself liking it in spite of that - something about the shameless artificiality appealed to me, especially in a "trendy" drink.

I've tried a couple of times since then to replicate it, but hadn't had much luck - I figured they used some kind of from-concentrate cranberry juice as the base, but didn't have much interest in tracking down the ingredients. So the matter's been at rest until today, when I stopped at Fred Meyer for some tonic water, which happens to be located next to the drink mixes.

Hm, I found myself thinking, that Cosmopolitan mix looks like it's about the same color as that drink I had at the drag show.

And the lightbulb went on.

So now I'm not sure which makes me more sheepish: the fact that it took me this long to figure out that they used a mix at the bar, or the fact that I'm truly and honestly enjoying a drink made from a brazenly overprocessed maraschino-colored mix and Absolut Raspberri vodka.

ETA: Having finished the drink, I'm now not quite certain whether to be amused or slightly afraid that the lime wedge I tossed in is now stained bright red...

I'm not sure which surprises and delights me more - that my local bookshop has three copies of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies for sale, or that they're shelved in the "Classics" section.

David Keck's In the Eye of Heaven: When I first picked this book up, I found it distressingly uneven. I liked the Dark-Ages aesthetic (here's a book where the protagonist thinks nothing of sleeping on flea-infested mattresses and regularly cowers in terror from threats both human and supernatural), and certain bits definitely left an impression - a rather agonizing description of a medieval trip to the dentist especially has stuck with me. But the main character never grabbed my attention; frankly, he reminded me of a heroine in a romance novel in that he seemed a passive placeholder through which the reader could experience the world rather than a person in his own right. While I admire the author's skill at world-building, I far prefer character-driven stories, and the characters just weren't that interesting - they seemed to be little more than sketched-out archetypes, driven by the whim of their environment.

Having given it some thought, however, it strikes me that this was probably the author's intention; such a style has any number of "classic" literary antecedents (Stephen Crane and The Red Badge of Courage come to mind, especially). But frankly, I find said style to waver between "tiresomely pretentious" and "just plain annoying", so I think on the whole I'm the wrong person to be judging it.

Taking the above into consideration, I give it a C+ - it didn't grab me, but I think the author did at least a moderately good job achieving what he set out to do. C+

While he's taking pictures of breaching humpbacks out at Douglas Harbor, I'm off by the pier waiting for our friend David (who's been out fishing on his friend's boat) to come in. Thinking I'll check out the time, I pull Brian's iPhone out of my back pocket.

And drop it into the harbor. In murky, cloudy, silty Alaska water.

I reach in to try to find it, then borrow a net and try to dredge it up, but I have only a vague idea of where it is, and I have no luck finding it. Eventually I give up, only to catch sight of the edge reflecting light underneath the surface, and I reach out and grab it. But it's been in there a few minutes already, so it's pretty much dead.

Brian shows up shortly after I do so, and asks what's going on. Everyone on the pier, including David, suddenly finds their feet very fascinating.

I say in a very small voice, "I dropped your phone into the harbor."

There is a very long silence, which includes a Look.

Then he says, "It's okay. I still love you." And hugs me.

David: "I now pronounce you man and wife."

T minus 6 hours until the Great Karaoke Showdown, and I'm still not certain what to sing for the sad/dramatic round. Pondering "Total Eclipse of the Heart", but I'm not certain if I'm a good enough performer to overcome the audience's collective "oh my god I've heard this so many times" aversion.

Suggestions?

Link stolen from sigma7.

So this woman has a blog/Facebook/Twitter setup, all centered around telling the story of her Very Difficult Pregnancy - how her soon-to-be daughter had been diagnosed with a fatal disease in utero, and how she wasn't getting an abortion no matter what, and yadda yadda yadda. This being The Internet, the results were pretty predictable:

Every night for the last two months, thousands of abortion opponents across the nation logged on to a blog run by the suburban Chicago woman who identified herself only as "B" or "April's Mom."

People said they prayed that God would save her pregnancy. They e-mailed her photos of their children dressed in pink, bought campaign T-shirts, shared tales of personal heartache and redemption, and sent letters and gifts to an Oak Lawn P.O. box in support.

As more and more people were drawn to her compelling tale, eager advertisers were lining up. And established parenting Web sites that oppose abortion were promoting her blog -- which included biblical quotes, anti-abortion messages and a soundtrack of inspirational Christian pop songs.

By Sunday night, when "April's Mom" claimed to have given birth to her "miracle baby" -- blogging that April Rose had survived a home birth only to die hours later -- her Web site had nearly a million hits.

Any guesses as to how this tragic tale ends?

Yep - it was all fake! Ten points each to the smart readers.

What totally cracks me up, though, was the way in which she was found out. She'd spent all this time so carefully crafting this story and roping people in, and then takes pictures of herself with her newborn - except that the "baby" is actually a doll. Surprise, surprise, a few people go "I have that same doll!" and the whole thing unravels from there. Really, how hard would it have been to just take a picture of the bundle of blankets, or (even better) spin a sob story about how the pictures are too personal to post?

Sunny weather in Juneau makes everybody insane. We just can't handle it. That's all there is to it.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up nacho ingredients for dinner, and when I got to the checkout the lines were all incredibly long. Not your usual "rush hour after work" long, but "five people with full carts in front of you all curving off to the left because there's no room for them to line up straight" long. A pain, for sure, but such is life, and I entertained myself texting people about (you guessed it) how long the lines were.

The real doozy came a bit later, as I was pulling out of the parking space. I saw a car sitting half-in half-out of the exit lane, apparently standing still, so I move to go around it. Unfortunately, it must have started moving as I went past, because when I pulled in front of it, the driver started whaling on their horn. Not the short, "Oy, watch out" kind of beep, but the long, drawn-out, "You hit my car, asshole!" beeps. Thing was, I hadn't hit them (I've hit things in my car in the past, I'm pretty sure I know what it feels like) and while I felt bad for cutting them off, I wasn't going to get out of the car just so they could yell at me - especially not after glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing the woman in the passenger's seat apparently having an aneurysm, she was that upset. I noticed her taking a picture of my license plate with her phone, but I'm not sure what she plans to do with it - she's not going to find it on Google, and even if she's a State drone and has access to the DMV database my record's pretty spotless (plus, I doubt the police are going to care that someone cut her off in a parking lot). Maybe she'll post it to a road rage website?

Frankly, I feel sorry for her more than anything - they must've been having a pretty awful day to get that upset over something that minor. Or have serious trigger issues around driving. Or both. Whatever the case, I don't envy them.

Okay, time for the shower I've been waiting for all day. Huzzah!

Ever wish the footage in the music video had something to do with the actual lyrics in the song?

Well, we can't (easily) change the footage of the video, but...



Incidentally, I'd never seen the original before, just heard the song. And I'm pretty sure it's not just the effect of the reworked lyrics that's making me go "God what an awful music video..."

I’m thinking of undertaking an experimental project that would require a server to which I could regularly upload mp3 files (to be downloaded by other people later, theoretically). I’ve noticed a few people using MegaUpload for such a purpose – does anyone here have any experience with them, either as a content distributor or consumer? I’ve seen some complaints about their mandatory wait times and bandwidth prioritizing; are there other places that provide better service? I don’t need huge chunks of bandwidth, just a few megabytes at a time.

I realize that abortion is a hot-button issue and everyone's got an opinion on it, and that's fine, but...

...when one posts a link to an article relating to a very specific aspect of the whole debate, is it completely bollocks to think that people might read and think about the content of that article, and respond to the content of the article rather than just posting their opinion about abortion in general?

There are plenty of forums to express opinions on abortion, and I'm more than familiar with most of the arguments one way or another. Frankly, the reason I posted the link was because I was interested in getting people's thoughts on the specific subject of the article, which brought up an idea not often seen in the debate. Instead, it seems everyone just saw the word "abortion" (and maybe "Tiller") and gave a knee-jerk Pavlovian reaction.

Maybe I'm expecting a bit much from folks on the Internet - I know a lot of people don't go to LiveJournal to think. But still, it's a bit discouraging seeing how easily manipulated people's feelings can be (and I'm including myself here, I know I'm prone to it too) just by bringing up one or two loaded terms. It's why I always make doubly sure to rethink anything I might say regarding a subject I feel strongly about, because it's so very easy to get wrapped up in your feelings and completely miss the actual point someone might be trying to make.

Not so long ago, this whole "getting married" idea was a comfortable six months or so away.

Invitations, cake decorations, hair appointments, honeymoon bookings, housesitting schedules, three rings and two sets of formal clothes later, there's only the ceremony itself left to arrange. It's all been happily low-stress, but even so, I'm suddenly being blindsided by the thought that we've got less than six weeks to go.

Not that I'm feeling like changing my mind or anything, just, damn...where'd the time go?

Dexter is currently prowling the kitchen, convinced that everything he has ever wanted is just on the other side of that glass-paned door. And because no one will let him out, he of course is the world's most unloved and lonesome kitty. No cat has ever been so cruelly treated, he sings, in a remarkably wide range of enunciations.

Adora Belle has spent the last five minutes sitting in the bedroom doorway, staring up at the doorjamb, which she finds completely fascinating for reasons best left a mystery to humankind.

I love my kitties.