theferrett: (Meazel)
[personal profile] theferrett

So the last of the Great Flux Events is tonight in Cleveland – my book release party, at Loganberry Books, at 7:00.  I got my nails done according to that fantastic cover, and my favorite cupcake maker in all of Cleveland is making donut-themed cupcakes.

All that’s needed are, well, people!  And I hope some show up!  Maybe even some of you!

(Though if not, I’ll drown my sorrows in two dozen cupcakes. So I may die. Vital that you come, then.)

Anyway, that’s the last of the event parties for this year.  (I tried to get a signing in Chicago for next weekend, but no bookstores wanted a Ferrett that weekend, and then I got an invite to a wedding, so… sorry, Chicago, get it together.)  I’ll probably do some more activity for next year’s The Fix, but that’s a long time off.

Right now, The Flux has been out for four days, and a surprising amount of people have read it in a single day, and they’ve seemed to dig it.  The book’s available if you want to order it from Amazon or Barnes and Noble or whereever, and if not, well, don’t mind me. I’ll be crying in the corner, my face smeared with delicious cupcakes.

Move along. I said move along.

Cross-posted from Ferrett's Real Blog.

tcpip: (Default)
[personal profile] tcpip
Wednesday night [ profile] caseopaya went to the first lesson of our short course in German at the city College of Advanced Education. The teacher was jet-lagged and a little dotty as a result, but the content for the first day (introduction to language, alphabet and sounds, greetings, numbers) was right. It has also inspired me to revive usage of my duolingo account, a rather effective online method of study. I cannot honestly say that I find German a particularly beautiful language and its grammar, whilst I am sure is terribly logical, is enough to send me quite mad - in a statement consisting of one main clause the finite verb is always the second idea, except with questions and commands where it is the first clause. Got that? We have a some unplanned intention to visit relatives in the Baden-Württemberg and Rhineland-Palatinate regions in the not too distant future.

With a notGerman empasis, last Sunday was our regular 7th Sea Freiburg game where I tried to replicate the Great Fire of London (a truly epic event), but instead the PCs outsmarted me, hiring some despised mercenaries who they were supposed to in conflict with, and then set up a city bank to bypass the evil banker-landlord monopolist. Neglected to mention a recent review of Eisen for said game system which I recently wrote. I somehow managed to neglect also mentioning fellow player [ profile] usekh's absolutely awesome birthday gathering a couple of weeks back which included the opportunity to catch up with many old friends. Apropos, Thursday night was our regular gaming evening, this time a new story using The Secret Lives of Cats. It is a narrative-heavy system, which we set in a Gippsland country town and with a theme of "cats against Cthulhu", deriving from Neil Gaiman's The Price.

It has also been a heavy week for IT and Linux related activities as well. On Monday night caught up with [ profile] strangedave who was in town for an Internet governance conference. In a typically wide-ranging discussion we ended up at The Lounge, an absolute mainstay of a location. That day I put in the submission of Linux Users of Victoria on the Trans Pacific Partnership, possibly the last submission prior to the TPP being signed. The following night was the monthly meeting of said organisation, which included two excellent talks, of which the latter is now available. In addition to this, I have done some investigations on storage on Android devices, and installation of Julia on clusters with MPI. The former is a household necessity, the latter I am fascinated with as an alternative to Octave, R, and Maxima.
andrewducker: (Default)
[personal profile] andrewducker

Let's play a game.

9/10/15 11:30
tajasel: Katie, with a purple wig on. (Default)
[personal profile] tajasel
It's called "Guess Who Said It?"

Hint: it was either the leader of the opposition to the governing political party in the UK about the leader of the governing party, or the other way around.

"We can't let him inflict his security-threatening, terrorist-sympathising, Britain-hating ideology on the country we love."

Was it…?

Poll #17012 Who said it…?
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 4

Who said it?

View Answers

David Cameron, about Jeremy Corbyn
4 (100.0%)

Jeremy Corbyn, about David Cameron
0 (0.0%)

Who are these people? I have been living under a rock and/or not on your puny little island.
0 (0.0%)

0 (0.0%)

And the answer is… *drumroll* )

Hamilton PSA

9/10/15 09:19
rydra_wong: Lee Miller photo showing two women wearing metal fire masks in England during WWII. (Default)
[personal profile] rydra_wong
Since so many people seem to be falling:

[community profile] hamiltunes, for all your DW Hamilton needs

[ profile] lemonyandbeatrice: an “all of my social media is talking about Hamilton and I’m lost” masterpost

Concise summary courtesy of [personal profile] vass, QWP:

For those who don't already know: musical about the life and death of one of the US founding fathers, Alexander Hamilton, here characterised as a brilliant, scrappy, orphaned immigrant with a near-deathwish and a desperate drive to succeed. The composer/lyricist is also the star, and he and the cast are all people of colour except King George III of England, who is white (and hilarious.) The musical style is mostly hiphop, but not all, with many, many references to other musicals and other hiphop/rap works. The lyrics are strong and smart and interconnected, and develop over the course of the show in an incredibly satisfying way. The female characters do not talk to each other about something other than a man, but they do discuss their wishes and options are in life, and their legacy, and clearly have relationships with each other extending beyond their relationships with men -- Eliza and Angelica's relationship as sisters is really strong and wonderful.

("We hold these truths to be self-evident/that all men are created equal/ And when I meet Thomas Jefferson/ I'ma compel him to include women in the sequel" is technically a Bechdel fail. NONETHELESS.)

Complete cast recording on Spotify

The Toast is all over this

Basically, this is a delight. And Lin-Manuel Miranda (N.B. [ profile] linmanuel, [ profile] Lin_Manuel, THERE IS NO FOURTH WALL HE CAN SEE US) seems to be a beautiful cinnamon roll, etc. etc., not to mention the kind of gigantic nerd who picks up an 800-page biography as light beach reading.

Spike Lee said of Hamilton that "Game recognize game"; I would like to suggest the complementary "Fannish recognize fannish".

This is a deeply, deeply fannish show, earnestly impassioned about intricate details of 18th-century American politics and about hip-hop and about musicals. It is intensely meta and referential, frequently funny but never "ironically" distanced. It is built on love.

Recommended even to those of us who start from a position of "... is he one of those dudes with his face on a mountain or something? I DON'T KNOW, WHY DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KNOW ALL THE DETAILS OF YOUR 18TH-CENTURY POLITICIANS WE'RE NOT ALL IN THE USA YOU KNOW." This is good stuff.
marnanel: (Default)
[personal profile] marnanel
"What does 'great with child' mean?"
"But the sentence is 'Mr Smith is great with children.'"
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan

I am about tidying myself up and restoring an air of respectability when Biffle clears his throat and says, dearest Madame C-, you have been quite infinitely good to me during this dreadfull time. I turn around and look at him. My dear Biffle, are we not the oldest of friends?

Indeed we are, and I fear I have taken quite the gravest advantage of your friendship and your good nature –

If this is Her Ladyship your sister insinuating that I shall come to ruin, do I not spend more time attending to business, you may confide that this is entirely not the case. Sure I am very comfortable at present and do not need to be hanging out for patrons.

No, she has said nothing of the sort to me, but as I come more to myself, I think that Kitty would never have intended that you should give up so much of your time to me for so long –

Why, say I, 'tis only a matter of some weeks.

- you have been of immense comfort and help to me, but I cannot let you go on like this. I should not go on like this.

I sit down on the edge of bed and take his hand. Ah, I say, I think you may be wise. For there are times for laudanum but one should not let it become a habit. I lean over to kiss him. But you know that you may always summon me, should it be necessary.

He gives me a half-smile. Twice you have drawn me out of hell; they say things come in threes.

I hope that is not the case: twice is too often.

We embrace and then I finish dressing. I wonder will this determination last.

The carriage takes me home, at an hour which gives me rather too long to ponder and worry about my impending encounter at R- House. Tho’ it has been given out that it will be a very private and informal dinner, yet if I am to meet the Marquess I feel that I should dress for the occasion, and adorn myself with my rubies. And the very faintest touch of rouge.

I do not know why I should be in such a fuss over the matter.

A carriage has been sent for me. Sure, I realize, 'tis probable the case that I am quite unus’d to being a dining guest at R- House – the last time I was there was that horrid night when young Master K- offer’d such coarse behaviour towards me.

Indeed it is strange to be admitt’d as if I am some honour’d guest by servants that conduct themselves extreme civil (even if this has been latterly the case at M- House), and shown into the parlour.

His Lordship is standing by the sideboard. One I take to be the Marquess is seated in a chair, a large volume open on a low table before him, with Sandy looking over his shoulder at something he points to. All look up as I enter.

I make them my best curtesy. The Marquess takes the cane that rests by his chair, comes to his feet, and makes a most elegant leg.

But, o dear, 'tis indeed the case that he is in most exceeding poor health: tho’ he is some several years the senior of Lord G- R-, he looks far older, very pale, dreadfull thin. One can still see, however, that he was once very well-looking indeed.

He sinks back into the chair. Well, I can understand now why young Rowley was so besotted with you.

He was? – sure, he never declar’d himself (indeed, I have to take considerable mind to remember him – a young fellow of His Lordship’s empty-headed wastrel set, that as I recollect, was most fond of Seraphine’s curd tartlets).

The foolish boy, goes on the Marquess, wanted to do something of note before daring to pay suit to you – run a fine race-horse, become a crack whip, something of that sort.

I make suitable condolences on the loss of his heir.

I was fond of the boy, says the Marquess with a sigh.

Lord G- R- offers me a little sherry. I take it and go sit down. I glance at the book open before the Marquess and were I given to blushing, would be put to the blush. It is however Sandy who blushes and says that they were just perusing The Worship of Priapus, which is a philosophickal study of the religious worship of the generative principle. Lord B- was telling me about some instances he has observed very similar to those illustrated.

I manage to maintain an entirely sober demeanour.

We dine exceeding well (sure I can recognize Seraphine’s touch) and since we are so very informal, at the end of the meal Lord G- R- desires me to take a little port with them.

The three of them look from one to the other after we have all had port poured into our glasses, Sandy has lit a cigar, and the footman has left the room.

Lord B- says that he comes to Town partly in order to die in his native land – for the quacks only quarrel about the exact date, and are all agreed it cannot be long – but also to get his affairs in order after poor young Rowley’s untimely death.

For the next heir is a distant cousin whom I detest, he says, a creeping hypocrite parson that will rebuke me for my sinfull ways and then go on with scarce a pause to say that I ought to be doing something about his preference in the Church and putting him into a better living. I can do nothing about the title, or the entail’d estates, but I have other property that I may devise to whomever I will. I was quite happy that it should go to Rowley, a near relative and one for whom I had an affection, especially as the B- estates are quite badly encumbered due to the imprudent habits and poor management of my forebears. But if it is not to go to him I have other uses I would put it to.

These are not, he goes on, uses I feel it prudent to describe in a testamentary document. But if I could leave this part of my property to one that knew my desires in the matter and I could trust to undertake 'em –

- And, says Lord G- R-, it would hardly be prudent to name me in such case –

- someone who would appear an entirely appropriate beneficiary that could not be contested or cause gossip. Such as a wife. He looks at me across the table. I have heard much of your discretion, Madame C-, and your reputation for honest and trustworthy dealing.

I slowly open my fan, close it again, tap it against the table, open it and wave it gently to cool myself. Say you so? this is most gratifying to hear.

But, I say, my honour’d preceptress Madame Z- was firm in her exhortations to get the terms of the bargain clear before concluding it. Since I am a woman of property, were I to dwindle into a wife, I should desire to ensure that my own wealth was well-ty’d up - tho’ I do not nurse any suspicion that you seek to wed me for my fortune. My affairs are in the hands of Mr Q- the attorney.

I fold the fan, tap it against my lips, open it again and look at them over it. Indeed I perceive the advantage to me of this match: it would convey to me not merely the respectability that goes with matrimony, but elevated rank. I also make the inference that I may anticipate to be quite soon a widow.

I confide that you would leave me private instructions as to the disposition of your estate?

The Marquess looks at me. I would not expect you to undertake this entirely without recompense. You would have a position to maintain.

I shrug, and fan myself. (This comes so very close upon my concerns over my future that I fear to make some entirely precipitate decision.)

I think, says Lord G- R- to the Marquess, you should disclose the identity of your heir at law.

O, says I, is this some clergyman that goes around endeavouring to attain penitent magdalenes? Fie upon the breed.

It is, says Sandy with a great grin, one Mr G-, that has a cure of souls in Surrey.

O, I cry, snapping my fan shut, sure I would pay to disoblige Mr G-!

The Marquess frowns. How come you to know the fellow? For tho' I am sure he is one that lusts in his heart, one of his other deadly sins is avarice.

I was, I say, oblig’d to rusticate for some months at the little place in Surrey left me by dear General Y-, that was in the Hon Company forces at Madras, under guise of being the wife of a sea-captain. Sure I was horribly teaz’d by Mr G- who was most attentive to my spiritual well-being, the wretch, which he seem’d to perceive located somewhere in the region of my bubbies; and he consider’d it a most ungodly thing for wives to have control of their own fortunes, for women are weak-minded creatures, as he continually told me.

Oh! I go on, I apprehend that there is no intention of consummation? The Marquess nods (sure, even if he had any notion towards my sex, I can see that his state of health would render any prospect of the enjoyment of conjugal rights extreme moot). But we would of course let it be suppos’d that all was done as is proper.

Why, I continue, sure I might be bearing an heir, which would put his succession in doubt, and altho’ this would in due course be disprov’d, it would greatly alarm him until it was.

I lay down my fan. I suppose that all must be carry’d out with some expedition. I will instruct Mr Q- to convoke with your legal advisors, and once these matters are settled in due legal form, why, the nuptials may take place whenever you desire.

Sandy remarks that he hopes he never does anything to annoy me, for I am Nemesis incarnate in my vengeance. I pick up my fan, lean over and smack him with it as hard as I am able.

Driving around...

9/10/15 01:28
archangelbeth: An anthropomorphic feline face, with feathered wing ears, and glasses, in shades of gray. (Default)
[personal profile] archangelbeth
Kid has been sick since, well, Monday, where she came home early. Fortunately, tomorrow is a teacher workshop, and Monday is a holiday, so hopefully this Horrible Depression And Anxiety Cold will go away before next Tuesday. (Some people've been saying it lasts 2 weeks. *sob*) Somehow, I do not seem to have acquired it, which is good. Or else that zinc pill I took kicked it off.

Her ankle is much better, so she has returned to walking around, which means I have accompanied her. (Still grousing to myself that with all this walking, I should be losing at least a little weight. >_> )

Must do Moar Editing, but not tonight, as it is 1:30am. >_>

Have acquired various books: the newest October Daye (Seanan McGuire) one, Sorcerer to the Crown (which I have heard good things about?), and of course Ancillary Mercy, because I have a huge soft spot for AIs. (For, perhaps, Reasons.)

Havva Quote
"How comforting," I replied, my voice and my expression steadily serious, "to think that in these difficult times God is still concerned with the details of housing assignments. I myself have no time to discuss them just now."
--Ancillary Mercy, Ann Leckie

INwatch+Bookwatch )

Dragons under fold )

Poem: moods

8/10/15 21:33
ysobel: (Default)
[personal profile] ysobel
Content warning for self-harm and images of injury

Read more... )
elf: Receiving Gold Apples (Receiving Gold Apples)
[personal profile] elf
So, I wound up thinking about my OC, Danwedh, enough that I decided to sign up for NaNoWriMo. (The last time I did that, my husband interrupted my writing streak by having a heart attack. Damned inconvenient of him.)

This time, I'm maybe better prepared. If nothing else, I have use of a Macbook Pro that's light enough to carry with me pretty much everywhere, and I have Scrivener to collect notes and details instead of trying to compose a novel and keep track of all the extra info in Google Docs.

Aaaaaand... I want to go to the Night of Writing Dangerously writeathon event. It requires donations. It takes $275 to get in, plus they only take the first 225 people (or actually, probably a few less, because some staff people are probably attending).

You were looking for a nice nonprofit to throw a few tax-deductible dollars at, right? I mean, other than OTW. You wanted another author-friendly pro-teenage-writer organization to support, right?

My donation page.

Okay, I'll sweeten the deal, since "send Elf to SF" is probably not a whole lot of incentive for you. (Especially since Elf worked in SF for almost 7 years.)

I will write 100 words for every $10 of donations, in any fandom I know. (Or fandoms I don't know, if you want fic that's probably wildly OOC and probably cracky.) Provide fandom, character/s, and a short prompt (i.e. "bubbles" or "knife play," not "a visit to the new Disney center on Mars, which has a faulty gravity mechanism in the ferris wheel") and I'll write you a drabble or better.

(no subject)

8/10/15 21:51
snarp: small cute androgynous android crossing arms and looking very serious (Default)
[personal profile] snarp
Fuck your fucken flower, Fox.
snarp: small cute androgynous android crossing arms and looking very serious (Default)
[personal profile] snarp
It's clearly not a conscious one. Maybe the same part that managed my auditory hallucinations, when I was having those? If so, I've clearly mellowed out a little since high school, given that I rarely recite incoherent sentence fragments about dismemberment apocalypse bloodses at him.
The point is that I just realized that today, when he walks up to me, I've been reflexively saying, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. WE HAVE A HATER."

He scratched my hand pretty bad last night, is probably what it is. (He didn't like the noise I was making on the keyboard while engaging with Mettaton, and he attempted to put a stop to it.)


azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (Default)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz - bolt of blue - infovore)

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