External brain is external.

[azurelunatic]

I may not crochet an anatomically -- well, I suppose the best we can get is anatomically probable -- velociraptor cloaca until I have finished the (human) sex ed hat.

I must also finish the crocheting project that is meant for afuna. (Localfolks have probably seen me working on it.)

I think I may need a sink plunger.

I am working on a code tour; my standard code tour protocol dictates that I remain awake until the code tour is finished.

I have words to put together on the topic of "but it's made up/invented/performative/a social construct, so that means it shouldn't matter very much", but suffice to say that given the utter wankstorms that can erupt over things like whether Harry Potter ought to have wound up in a serious relationship with Hermione or Ginny, and how friendships imploded, stuff that's a lot less fictional matters. And whether or not someone with an "objective" perspective thinks it should matter means fuckall. And how "objective" is a filthy lie and also dangerous.

Some eschatological humor, in concept form: Macdonald Hall fic. Miss Scrimmage falls prey to some doomsday prophecy, and in dotty but practical Miss Scrimmage form, prepares for the coming disaster by instructing her young ladies in the post-apocalyptic arts. Meanwhile, across the road, the boys are very busy in a fashion that all goes completely and explosively haywire on the very day indicated by the prophecy.

I still need soap, soup, and cider.

Whatever that thing was, it is an ex-that-thing, and should be discarded.

Having obtained the indicated boxes, it would be great to start putting the things from the shelves in them, and the boxes back on the shelves.

Nice gel mattress pad. It's still a thing.

There is plenty of fruit. However, we have established that carrots give a really weird texture to the smoothies.

Comments

[enemyofperfect]

"but it's made up/invented/performative/a social construct, so that means it shouldn't matter very much"

Oh, that fuckery -- the fancy expanded adult version of the old lie about the comparative danger of words vs. rocks and wooden implements.

I consist of consciousness. Whatever affects my consciousness, affects me.

Which is to say, I would love to read your words, and emphatically second the ones you've already assembled.

[azurelunatic]

I have been bouncing around possible rhymes involving the soul-destroying nature of certain kinds of words.

[siderea]

I like to tell my patients about the unofficial military slogan, "PsyOps: Because physical wounds heal."

[aedifica]

Yay Macdonald Hall fic concept! (Even if I did misread "eschatological" as "scatological" the first time through.)

[azurelunatic]

Heh, heh, heh. (That means my horrible joke is working!)

[azurelunatic]

Due to things colliding in the way that they do, Mr. Sturgeon is going to have to walk under the window of someone who is making illicit, and bad, cinnamon toast, and have some fall on his head. Repeatedly. And then he will go home to his wife. For lo, "The Afterlife", by David Kirby, is a beautiful poem, and Mr. Sturgeon is a person who would absolutely be on the other side of it. As he so often is, in life.

[ivorygates]

your posts should come with footnotes. or perhaps a bibliography. i never have the faintest idea of what you're talking about, and that makes me feel obtuse. alas and woe.

[azurelunatic]

Alas!

My to-do lists mostly make sense to people inside my head, because that's where most of the context is.


There's a Yuletide chatroom, and somehow we got on to the topic of crocheted velociraptors. Someone wanted an anatomically correct velociraptor, that is to say, a velociraptor with a dick. Those of us who knew bird anatomy objected, and the topic turned to crocheted velociraptor cloaca. Now, I am working on a "sex ed hat" that is to have a visible twat, and then the uterus and all tucked inside. I know my attention span, and I am not allowed to start a second dodgy obscene crocheting project without having finished the first.

Meanwhile, there's a crocheting project intended for Afuna, which would have been for Christmas if I'd been done then. Alas for procrastination.

My sink has resolved itself without plunging, happily, and I finished the code tour in dw_dev before falling asleep (which is always a hazard when I take one on).

I posted an entry the other day on some points of genderqueer ettiquette, and someone used a fatal phrase that got the inside of my head good and yelly. Since I want to yell about the concept and not at the person, it's saving up for an entry on its own, and meanwhile it's like a tumble-dryer of yelling inside my head, as per usual.

The other thing that possibly needed its own entry was the outline for some fic for Gordon Korman's Macdonald Hall series, which showed up ready to rock when one of the Yuletide folks asked what fandom she should write post-apocalypse fic for. It's a slapstick hilarious kids' series, amazingly unsuited to grimdark, and therefore perfect for apocafic subversion.

The rest are fairly mundane household to-do items.

[loki_of_sassgaard]

This is probably the best to-do list ever.

[azurelunatic]

Thank you.