forgot this GEM

Jun. 22nd, 2017 07:16 pm
apiphile: (maurice)
[personal profile] apiphile
yesterday a man punched me excitedly in the arm out of fucking nowhere and yelled at me that my (sun)glasses were fucking great, which was lovely, but SOMEWHAT STARTLING.

you know normally when someone yells about my clothes in an approving way they're: a) female and b) not hitting me??
apiphile: (did it on purpose)
[personal profile] apiphile
"i'll just walk there" it's 31C you are wearing plastic flipflops and you have a limited timeframe so you can't take it easy what actual part of your brain thought this was an acceptable idea you flay-footed fuck
"just walk to tottenham court road we have plenty of time" (at least we got to visit the museum of the order of st john while the garden was actually open: it is a beautiful tiny oasis in clerkenwell)
charlie decided we needed a large bottle of gin and i decided we needed a small bottle of gin and what with the two bottles of wine we went through before chris arrived and the half a bottle of pimms, i was right and he wasn't
definitely very allergic to grass my entire torso looks like someone's been firing angry cats at it
we did not feed the parakeets because we were too drunk and i am 500% delighted that i do not remember the majority of the conversation i am only very annoyed that i remember having to pee in the trees
went back to chris's in a valiant attempt to sober up a bit. how this actually worked: charlie drank a litre of water and threw up five times and was still incomprehensibly drunk. chris arbitrarily smashed a glass, i was directed to drink about half a bottle of gin and hung out of a majillionth floor window of a tower block in paddington watching the sun set over london on midsummer's day while waxing aggressively pretentious
we tried to go to g-a-y late, which somehow involved being in a restaurant on wardour street briefly which i largely remember because i have a receipt; chris informs me they both started nicking stuff the minute my back was turned but thankfully i was concentrating too hard on trying to understand salad to really notice
g-a-y late wouldn't let us in. not because *i* was monumentally drunk. not because charlie couldn't remember his own face. no, because chris, probably the most sober of us (who'd also had to put my nose piercing back in for me) "was too drunk"; we decided the bouncer was actually just wildly prejudiced against slavs and complained loudly about this all the way to Heaven, which was shut; we ate the peanuts we'd bought for the parakeets all the way to the RVT, which was also shut. Union briefly tried to tell me my PASSPORT WASN'T VALID ID? but we got in, which seems like a waste of time because it was almost empty and at least three of the people who *were* in there were straight; we left in the hopes of making an entire last hour in XXL / Pulse @ SE1 (bear night) but didn't get there (would probably have been fucking empty anyway WHAT IS WRONG WITH LONDON does NO ONE go midweek clubbing anymore) and found ourselves, eventually, in Bar Italia (Charlie demanded we go because he's never been and the Pulp song).
Bar Italia is very expensive. We sat there eating a cheese melt and yelling at Genesis videos in absolute delight before making our way home.
Oh you think the evening is over? Stopped for chicken from Hardies, AKA "how not to have a hangover" (the other part of not having a hangover is to drink water every time you wake up and take a paracetamol the FIRST time you wake up, then keep sleeping until you're not ill, I am pretty sure at least 50% of hangover is just being tired), and on the way back to the house ended up in a lengthy conversation about the overall shitness of men with a junkie-in-remission who was wearing a rainbow bra and accidentally killed her boyfriend's cactus.
My brain politely decided to wake me up repeatedly to inform me that I "probably have eye herpes now and will go blind" but I recognise "alcohol panic" when i see it (more or less) and just went back to bed.

here i am regretting my choice to remove all the skin from the tops of my feet and foolishly thinking this was the dumbest injury i was going to get this week (i have since SUNBURNT MY MOUTH):
here is charlie consuming his fourth or fifth glass of wine:

Anyway it took me until about four to start on the test writing and I've had to bow out of a social engagement this evening (partly because I don't want to go anywhere further away than the pub on the corner and partly because it is like standing inside a boiled bollock today - about 10C cooler but also 100% more humid - and partly because the friend I was meant to be seeing subluxed her knee this morning - she has EDS - and I didn't think we'd get the best out of socialising while one of us was sweating gin and the other was having pain sweats), but I've done it, so here it is:

Read more... )

... I started trying to fix the font on that but it involves removing so much crap it's really not worth it.

The Blood is the Life for 22-06-2017

Jun. 22nd, 2017 11:00 am
miss_s_b: (Default)
[personal profile] miss_s_b


Jun. 21st, 2017 10:37 pm
hollymath: (Default)
[personal profile] hollymath
It's been so hot and my hair's so thick that I shaved most of it off this evening.
A selfie where I try to show off that the sides of my head are shaved. My dark hair is longer on the top and combed off to one side.
Feels much better now. But no doubt this means the heatwave is over. You're welcome.

It's the longest day of the year in this hemisphere, a bittersweet occasion for me because I'm sad to think the days are getting shorter now already. It feels like I haven't had a chance to get used to or appreciate them yet. It's been a real catastrophe curve of a year, so time passes without me noticing it.

Is £70,000 a year rich?

Jun. 21st, 2017 03:35 pm
miss_s_b: (Fangirling: Arachnia Janeway)
[personal profile] miss_s_b
I think the argument boils down to two things: what you earn, and what you picture in your head as a rich person's lifestyle.

£70,000 is in the 95th percentile for personal income. This means that if you earn £70,000 you earn more than 94% (or thereabouts) of people. If you're earning more than 94% of your fellow countrymen, you ought to be rich, right? Like, if you're better off than the vast, vast majority of people, you should feel well off, or else how must the poor buggers on less than you feel?

The problem is, of course, that £70,000 doesn't actually buy that much these days. Like, it won't get you a mortgage on a decent house anywhere in the home counties. It won't buy you a new car and a couple of holidays every year after housing costs. It won't pay school fees for your little ones to go to private school once you've paid for housing costs either. £70,000 a year doesn't feel rich; and that's what the problem is.

If you look at the lifestyles our parents had, well, this is what my parents did in the 80s:
  • owned a home
  • bought a new car every two years
  • didn't go on foreign holidays but DID send me to private school
  • were in the pub three nights a week
etc., etc.

Now, I'm not saying they didn't work for that: they did. My dad had two full time jobs (mild mannered biology teacher by day, superchef by night) and my mum worked 9-5 too. They worked bloody hard. But the same amount of work in the same jobs these days would get you, if you were lucky:
  • a rented house that is one of three poky little Barratt boxes built in the back garden of the kind of house your parents owned
  • a second hand banger that you run till it dies, or a bus/rail pass
  • a cheap holiday for now, but only until brexit happens and then we have to pay visa fees and the exchange rate is knackered and oh look we can only afford Butlins
  • Pre-loading because the pubs are so bloody expensive, thank you alcohol duty escalator
Now most of the people I see arguing about this are either saying "£70k is mega rich, you're in the 95th percentile FFS" or "£70k is not that rich when you consider what you can buy" but not many are following both thoughts through.

How bloody scandalous is it that even if you're in the 95th percentile you are still struggling, and you are well worse off than your parents would have been on an equivalent income adjusted for inflation etc.? If 95% of the country is not getting a good enough income, that's a bloody disgrace and somebody ought to do something about it.

Anybody know any politicians?
miss_s_b: (Default)
[personal profile] miss_s_b
The relevant part (and the reason why I am posting this) will also be made bigger and bolder for those hard of thinking people. I thought I'd post the whole thing again though, just because it's periodically useful to do so.

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The Blood is the Life for 21-06-2017

Jun. 21st, 2017 11:00 am
miss_s_b: (Default)
[personal profile] miss_s_b

Happy Solstice

Jun. 21st, 2017 10:16 am
miss_s_b: (Fangirling: Arachnia Janeway)
[personal profile] miss_s_b
... especially to all those of us who fear the filthy day star and can now look forward to inexorably encroaching cool soft darkness for the next 6 whole months :)

(no subject)

Jun. 20th, 2017 05:28 pm
apiphile: (did it on purpose)
[personal profile] apiphile
Yesterday: admin and American Gods. Enjoyable nonsense, if a bit self-indulgent, and GOD I could live a thousand years without ever hearing or seeing another American fucknig trope-laden interpretation of Irish history or mythology ever again. PUT IRELAND DOWN NOW.

It is obscenely warm. Despite sleeping pills I woke up at 5am and kind of drifted until I got to my alarm. Went to the gym nice and early, finally practiced my wobbly-ass form with the barbell without a) any weights but b) the smith machine. Wobble. Wobble. Tense hands. THIS HAD BETTER BE WORTH IT. Also did mountain climbers next to a man who had clearly been doing them for a lot longer than I had so that I could just, you know, marinate in my shame. Still, it's always apparent that my mood is much better if I go to the gym than if I do not.

Bleached hair. Got distracted and left it in for longer than usual. Hair is now basically white. I like it.

Took Jess down to the British Library's dinky little Queer History/Anniversary display, which was pleasantly comprehensive, and as usual Jess basically skimmed a third of the exhibit and I insisted on reading every single thing and got on her nerves relentlessly (last time this happened was at the one at the Tate Britain which we'd paid a fairly large amount of money for and I just don't get it. At all. Why BOTHER if you're only going to glance at things?); we settled on going to Granary Square as a compromise between "going home immediately" (Jess's plan) and my usual "I want to stay out, you can go if you want". The fountains look lovely and would be great fun to go to with someone who isn't a 400% fucking killjoy; the trees were overoccupied so we sat by the large grassy steps (Jess in the shade, me in the sun; she retaliated for this betrayal by taking photos of me looking horribly fat with my top off, but I did also get pieces of watermelon thrown to me, and her instagram is locked anyway).

Still not being in the mood to go home, I took Jess to Dishoom for drinks:

(very excellent mocktails)

We sat for some time ("Against British Rule. As a former colony, you should be in favour of this." / "Uh, the fuck am I? I'm not one of those mad anti-monarchy types." / "I mean, that's not the same as being governed from Britain. Have you seen how badly we fuck everything up?" / "Have you seen how badly AUSTRALIA fucks shit up?" / "Yeah but at least it's your own fuck-up. There's a modicum of agency." = my girlfriend, the Australian, arguing in favour of remote rule by fucking idiots, for some reason?), I had the same pleasant strain of nostalgia as when I was in Whitechapel on Sunday. We had a brief look around the art displays by final year students at CSM, but ran away because there was a drone. (J: "They're not fucking dangerous!" / "DAVE CUT HIS HAND UP ALL TO FUCK" / "There's one you can get that follows your hand" / "What a great way to cut your hand up all to fuck" / "I don't think they can do that" / "HE BLED ALL OVER HIS FUCKING FLAT". I've also managed to fly the microdrone (before it stopped charging or working) into my own face repeatedly.)

Locals converged on FP last night apparently to give flowers to Finsbury Park mosque. The neighbour of the dickhead being charged with murder and terrorism has described him as "an absolute cunt". It is important to remember (I chant to myself, because Jess is pissed off if I talk about it) that there are more people who want peace and integration than assholes who want death and disorder.

Bought a ticket to a panel talk on the gay history of London; Jess is mildly passive-aggressing about me refusing to go see QOTSA with her, despite having asked me if I would enjoy it if I went before she bought the ticket. Repeatedly. "I will go with you if you want me to go" / "But are you going to enjoy it?" / "Probably not, no?"

[I have written the dialogue for Emma's comic. Submitted my story. Now there is no putting off rewrites. BOO]
miss_s_b: Vince Cable's happy face (Politics: Vince - happy face)
[personal profile] miss_s_b
... and to nobody's surprise it is Vince Cable.

I like Vince, as a person. I like his stance on bees. I like his dancing.

None of those three things makes him suitable to be leader of the party, though. I mean, yes, he's got long service. And he did that one joke when he was acting leader that one time. But I'd really like something more than that to enthuse about in a potential leader.

Plus, there's all the things that make him unsuitable to be leader:
  • He's not a liberal, he's a technocratic centrist. This is fine if you are (shadow) chancellor; commendable, even. It's not acceptable in the leader. The leader needs to inspire. Technocratic centrism is the opposite of inspirational.

  • His stance on brexit is... at odds with the majority of the party's members and voters is probably the kindest way of putting it, and is already bringing out the "but we must appease the racists! We can't tell people they are wrong!" faction. If he wins, and maintains this stance, I predict a halving of our membership in pretty short order.

  • Tuition fees. OK, so he's not entirely to blame for the policy cock up (all those of us who voted for coalition, myself included, must take out share of that blame) but he is the person responsible for the catastrophic mishandling of the implementation and representation of it, and a big part of the reason Labour, why a party which introduced and then trebled tuition fees, can still point at them like an albatross round our necks.

  • The British Press, bless them, are not known for their nuance and balance. His name will be "Sir Vince Cable, the man who privatised the mail" - whether he wins the leadership or not, tbh.

  • Ten years ago he declared that by his own reckoning, he was too old. I do not believe he has got younger in that time.
All that said? I'll give him a fair hearing at hustings. He'll have his chance to impress me. I just don't see him doing it.

So far, to my knowledge, the field looks like this:

Definitely not standing: Jo Swinson, Jamie Stone, Layla Moran, Tom Brake, Tim Farron, Alistair Carmichael
Probably not standing: Stephen Lloyd, Wera Hobhouse, Christine Jardine
Probably standing: Norman Lamb, Ed Davey
Definitely standing: Vince Cable

If anyone else declares that they are definitely standing I shall go into my reasons further, but based on Ds&Ps, and subject to persuasion at hustings, I expect my ballot to look like this:
  1. RON
  2. Davey
  3. Cable
  4. resigning from the party
  5. Lamb
There has been talk that there might be an online ballot this time, rather than a paper one. If that is the case I shall lobby very hard indeed for it to have at least one free text box for write in candidates and/or voting RON. Voters should be able to express their displeasure at the options on the ballot on any and every ballot, this one included.
venta: (Default)
[personal profile] venta
Yesterday morning, I attempted to make some scones. I have, historically, not made terribly good scones so thought I'd branch out and try a different recipe.

Scone but not forgotten )

Tayyab & the final nights of Ramadan

Jun. 18th, 2017 10:36 pm
apiphile: (not enough fart jokes)
[personal profile] apiphile
Been for dinner in Whitechapel:

After some wrangling, and walking, and hurting my feet with flipflops, and a heavy, bag, and complaining about the heat (it's been 28/29C the last couple of days and as a country we're not really equipped for it. I like this kind of weather but I like it better when I don't have to DO things and people don't keep trying to be AFFECTIONATE on me. STOP HUGGING ME. IT IS TOO WARM FOR PHYSICAL CONTACT.)

I still don't fully remember my half-dreamed story but it has all the colour trappings of the Yashim mysteries and the Orhan Pahmuk book that I read (My Name Is Red) which are set in Istanbul at different times, so the weather feels pleasantly appropriate. Whitechapel smells, sounds, and in this weather feels a lot like Ahmedabad did in 1988, although without the animals and the omnipresent dust (there has, in the intervening time, been a massive earthquake, a lot of regeneration, and tarmac: the Ahmedabad of my sketchy memory is long-dead) and that makes me feel terribly relaxed and - well, to be honest the weather does that anyway. Lassitude and oppressive heat and whatnot. The dusk and the flapping net curtains. (I had to chase a girl down the road in my flipflops because she'd left her phone in the cafe I'd walked into).

Lassi, there, which also tastes of that particular point in my childhood. I don't think I ever had kulfi as a kid. I'd have remembered. I'm furious.

The week ahead:

Corrections on the story (it's being/has been proofed), author bio (ish), submit to anthology, forget about.
Queer Museum Exhibit Tuesday with Jess
Wednesday hair trim, parakeets with Chris, clubbing with Chris & Charlie probably or possibly just Chris
Thursday ??? I need to work on this garbage book but I'm also in the process of vaguing my way to a very low-key hangout with someone new and I don't know when that's happening; evening I'm seeing Miranda
Friday ????
Saturday Queer Fayre at the Tate Britain / Jamie's birthday drinks / Duckie with Charlie and whomeverself will stir their fantasmagorical stumps in my unholy direction.
Sunday EID in the square probably, there is nothing whatsoever untoward about showing up at one of the most important days in the Muslim calendar with a thumping hangover. Maybe I'll have some ham first as well just to be 100% kafir twat

(Nay, I am just going because I love a good party and the Humanist Assembly is always on my work weekends, and I think after poisoning myself at Jamie's I will want the soothing embrace of teetotalitarianism, at least for a couple of days).

ETA: Cock I forgot, have to letter that comic as well, or at least write the dialogue for it

The Blood is the Life for 18-06-2017

Jun. 18th, 2017 11:00 am
miss_s_b: (Default)
[personal profile] miss_s_b


Jun. 18th, 2017 08:35 am
hollymath: (Default)
[personal profile] hollymath
Think I've actually managed to book for a yoga class this morning online?! That never used to work. Living right across from the gym, it wasn't a big deal: I just had to go over there with my card and scan it, but this is even better because I can do it before they open this morning.

When I went to the website I was asked to do a little survey, so I got to vent a bit there about how ableist they've been.

Went to yoga on Wednesday for the first time in a while and it was great as usual but, having started this at New Year, I'm not used to being sweaty while I'm doing it! It makes my hands slippery which is no good when the likes of Three-Legged Dog is hard enough for me anyway. I suppose I can be grateful that this isn't a problem I'm going to have most of the year.

(Man, this morning I've already washed all the dishes and tried to clean the coffee off the kitchen floor (I always miss some, because everything in our kitchen is black!), did laundry and hung it out in the sunshine, and went to yoga. And it's only 10:30. I feel far too virtuous a person and am glad I had crisps for breakfast so I have some evidence that I'm not.)

(no subject)

Jun. 17th, 2017 11:25 pm
apiphile: (Default)
[personal profile] apiphile
So I’ve got the sounds the sun makes open in one tab, right. And I’ve got a rain generator open in another with a high sub and low bass, low mid range, and high treble setting, right? I just yelled at a friend that it needed a “trees melody” and this is what I got (his work from 5 years ago).


I can't find any submission guidelines for this FUCKING anthology oasdh aouhvaicsas

The Blood is the Life for 17-06-2017

Jun. 17th, 2017 11:00 am
miss_s_b: (Default)
[personal profile] miss_s_b

(no subject)

Jun. 16th, 2017 11:45 pm
apiphile: (henry scott tuke)
[personal profile] apiphile
Sorry I keep whinging. My colleagues and I convened in the kitchen to basically stand there screaming at the TV about how evil the Government are and took bets on when there's going to be a riot, I stole some more food and I feel vaguely human-ish now. have this open in one tab with some good settings and this terrible disco filth in the other to try to mitigate some of the rest of the worst and the worst of the rest. Edits/alterations have been successfully applied to my Merman short story (tick), I still feel like I live in a fucking treacle mine over the blasted novel, and further rewrites on Heavy pend later in the week. June already feels like it's been going on for six weeks but I'm even slower.

it's probably a good thing i can't focus enough to Discourse about how to use the Lizard brain to control the Monkey brain because that's maladaptive, but I wish the Monkey would not rile up the lizard by shrieking and flinging poo and I wish the newspapers were not Monkey-riling devices.

(no subject)

Jun. 16th, 2017 10:43 pm
apiphile: (i hate that thing you love)
[personal profile] apiphile
the internet is especially stressful already tonight.

wound up about story deadline: can't do anything until tomorrow. about lack of progress on book plotting. on editing, which is 100% my fault

shit at working out & always feel like i'm wading through heavy water and making no progress whatsoever, on top of all the goddamn politics

the hell that is the news, and the constant feeling from every direction that i am not doing my best
venta: (Default)
[personal profile] venta
Today, I am supposed to be reviewing a colleague's pull request[*]. Multiple thousands of lines of Node.js and extremely Promise-heavy Javascript.

I don't really know Javascript. I've never used Node. I haven't done any aysnc programming in about 15 years. So when I say "reviewing", I really mean "learning a bunch of stuff from scratch in the hope of having the least clue what it's all about".

And the worst part? Earwormed by bloody Big Fun :(

[*] A "pull request" is some quantity of new computer code, which someone has submitted for potential inclusion in our Grand Bucket o' Code.
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