necromommycon: I childproofed my home but they still got in. (childproofed)
I've been enjoying Tumblr. No, really, I have. Who wouldn't? All those keen young minds and up-to-date whatever, I don't know, I mean John Green is on there, and Rainbow Rowell, probably.

But the thing is, I am old. Decades and decades and decades; centuries by now, even. OLD.

So occasionally, just every now and then, being on Tumblr makes me feel like an actual mouldering corpse. Like a mouldering corpse, in fact, who for some horrible reason has been unearthed and dragged to a school dance and forced to sit in one of those metal-legged plastic-backed chairs in the corner. All the young people are doing vibrant young people things, speaking entirely in memes and meta-jokes and listening to, I don't know, MUSIC, and I'm just sitting there quietly mouldering and thinking wistfully of how much more comfortably I could be mouldering at home.

Hello, LJ-style blogging platform. I've missed you.






...the hand which guided that pen is now mouldering in the grave...
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
I know: anything that comes after that sentence is my own damn fault.

But I'm glad I'm reading it, because book two appears to be the point where I start finding the series hilarious. (I have had an ear infection and a fever for three days now. That's...probably not a non sequitor.)

Having run out of plot (spoiler cut?) ), E L James has resorted to having this volume be The Book of Ana Gets Stuff. Ana's reaction to this is exactly the same as her reaction to everything else: a stream of "oh my" and "oh crap."

I'm having coffee with Christian Grey? Oh crap.
A BSDM dungeon? Oh my.
Your mother was a crack whore? Oh crap.
An iPad? Oh my.

And so on and so forth.

Speaking of that crack whore thing--apologies if that was a spoiler--that brings me to THE BEST PART EVER. Okay, I really should spoiler cut this, since it's the only truly startling moment to date: spoiler cut )

So. Someone needs to write crossover fic. Not me, I have an ear infection and I'm lazy.
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
Inspired by all the trans-ethnic demiromantic demisexual cat-otherkin on Tumblr, I have decided to attempt to define myself, for my own amusement and the possible benefit of friends and passing strangers.

1. I am Elderly.

 
1.1. Memo to self: invest in drape-y clothes, shapeless dresses, possibly shawls.
 

2. I have been Mummified. This renders my life both very busy and, as far as non-Mummies are concerned, very boring. I apologize for this, but I like it this way.

 
2.1. I am therefore Exhausted. If I have fallen, chances are I do not want to get up. Please just cover me with a light blanket and leave me to sleep it off.

2.2. I am also thereby Well-Preserved, which lends a certain preserved-in-amber quality to my interests. I have probably not heard of your latest fandom, but if it's a book series, or a television series I can someday obtain on DVD, I would love it if you told me about all about the thing, in the faint hope I will find the time to read/buy/download it. Some days you Online People feel like my only contact with the outside world, and I appreciate you more than you know.

2.3. I am also, therefore, busy. I eventually reply to letters and emails, but there's no point in pretending it happens promptly. I try my best to keep up with the life events of friends, but sometimes I admit I can't find time to do more than fling a comment at you or mail you something--and the something is more likely to be "a short note and a small gift" than "a long chatty letter."

2.4. I understand that after the first few years, one adapts to Mummification and starts having free time again. I live in hope and expectation.

3. I am Prone to Melancholia.

4. I am Married. Mostly this is as I anticipated it would be, but there a are few unexpected side effects, such as a strong urge to matchmake and a faint urge to throw dinner parties. Luckily I have little time or energy to interfere with people's lives to any large degree; usually I find that lying down with a cold cloth over my forehead causes these urges to pass off. Still, I feel it's only fair to warn people.

5. I have, in my old age, turned into a Giant Prude. I would like everyone to go and put some clothes on prior to public events. I don't, however, go around saying so, because I try not to be a Giant Jerk.


So I'm an Elderly, Exhausted, Married, Mummified, Melancholy Prude. I sense this description is lacking something, but I'm not sure what.
 
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
Point the first: I was slightly scatterbrained to begin with (lists are the only thing holding me together, most days), and now I have two small children, so THE BRAIN, SHE DOES NOT FUNCTION WELL.

For example, just now I was on a friending meme, looking at people's posts (as one does), and started subscribing to some of the interesting-sounding people (as one shouldn't, unless one is going to be organized enough to remember to COMMENT in reply. Oops.).

And I suddenly realized I had subscribed to a bunch of people, not commented to any of them, and...yeah, hence this post.

So hi there. Sorry about that, but you all sounded too interesting NOT to read. Don't feel obliged to subscribe back! I mean, I will be delighted if you do, but there's no obligation.

I'm older than dirt, possessed of a spouse and the aforementioned offspring, addicted to books, slightly too busy for fandom right now but hoping that will change over this next year. Sort of religious, but still not sure WHAT religion--something paganish or heathenish seems like the best fit, but I also cheerfully go to various churches with my family once in a blue moon.

I mostly post either about day to day stuff (I try not to post about the children a lot, though), or about books. Or I rant about politics sometimes. Canadian politics, those would be.
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
As some of you know, I've been playing around with (uh...in the sense of attempting to write, not any sort of astral plane sexual sense) a new character. I can now see him! (Again: not in the crazy way.)

Thanfiction drew him for me, is what I'm trying to say (look: The Stranger, in Victorian military dress, sometime prior to getting involved with the Between the Wars "fandom").

And if any of you are looking for someone to draw you something, he* takes commissions, and works quickly, and is worth checking out. Plus I didnt get indoctrinated into a cult, so you know it's safe. Seriously, though: he draws stuff. Consider getting in touch with him if you need stuff drawn.



*"He" being Thanfiction. Not my fictional character. In case you were worried.
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
1. Check out this online bookstore. And this Paperback Swap bookshelf, while you're at it.

2. Speaking of books, if anyone's looking to hire a good copy editor, you can reach one at esthernidhonnacha@gmail.com. I may actually make use of that myself, one of these days. Hmmmm.

3. Kimagine's Etsy shop is full of pretty things. She makes these broken-china pieces that are just gorgeous.

4. I am still looking for people to write things for me, if you feel like Mina-ing on commission.

And I'm still taking suggestions for things/services/etc. to promote. Just comment on the previous post.
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
I have that exhausted-before-I-start feeling that I shouldn`t even bother posting this, but I`m going to anyway, because I`ve been commenting publicly (at Turimel`s and Abbey`s posts), and I just want to clarify what I`ve been thinking lately.

I'll be merciful and stick this behind a cut under the assumption that most people, quite rightly, don't care what I think about this. )

But I'm a "reader" here, one so far distant from events that I know my reading is next to worthless. Still: it is real life. One of the most annoying things about real life, but also one of the loveliest, is that there aren't really heroes and villains at all. Just humans, flawed and variously fucked up, capable of enormous jackassery but also of compassion.

And mortal, so it would be nice if we could manage not to wish each other dead (in the face of anything short of manslaughter or murder, at least).

I'm screening comments. Unless you actually write UNSCREEN THIS in the subject line I'll probably leave everything screened.

quotation

Jun. 28th, 2011 08:49 pm
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)

"I don't believe that children can develop in a healthy way unless they feel that they have value apart from anything they own or any skill that they learn. They need to feel that they enhance the life of someone else, that they are needed. Who, better than parents, can let them know that?"
~Fred Rogers, "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood"
necromommycon: painted portrait of lady in pink gown (Default)
You guys, I think this sentence should win some kind of an award. It perfectly captures the essence of an entire genre. I'm wiping away tears as I type this. Actual tears.


He pictured Peter's little package and could not begin to imagine how it might relate to anything in the subbasement of the U.S. Capitol.
 
 
Dan Brown, The Lost Symbol
necromommycon: (Chase eager)
And I am herein being deliberately facetious and taking a profound and evil glee in what we'll have to call Freudian anachronisms--turns of phrase, in other words, that read like deliciously telling slips now, but were probably written in all innocence then. For, at any rate, a given value of innocence...

When I last delighted you with bits of David, his friend Frank Maddox had suffered some sort of horrible but unexplained temptation whilst looking at, well, freshly-bathed bits of David. Personally I find it hard to imagine what one would have to have wrong with one to consider schoolboys appealing, but I'm quite happy not imagining it, really. And so then... )And they mutter some mushy stuff back and forth, the end. Presumably he recovers and they go to Greece.
necromommycon: (Chase eager)
I'd been intending to share the joys of "Five Are Together Again" today, but PD, in what I can only assume is an effort to put me off men altogether and particularly off former public-school boys, has lent me David Blaize.

I don't know quite how to describe it. Best let it speak for itself, I think.
David Blaize: quotations )
...yeahhhhhh. Quite.

Well, that does explain much about public-school inmates, such as why most women wouldn't touch one with a barge pole.

The whole thing has this sickly-sweet treacle-y feel to it, so that it manages to be both hilarious but also embarrassing to read, and it leaves me with a very slight urge to go beat up some nice boy in a uniform. Remind me never again to joke about the sillinesses to which girls are prone, or to listen in silence to anyone else joking about it. Because quite honestly, even at our very worst and silliest--which peaked, I think, at roughly nineteen for my immediate friends--we were never even a fraction as idiotic as this. No female I've ever met, even if caught at her worst and swooniest, ever approached it. Even a whole group of us nearly fainting away when our Favourite Undergraduate Professor said my name couldn't compare with that David-and-Jonathan line, ugh.

Also, there's something weirdly and killingly Freudian about the author's choice of words, so that fifteen-year-old David's discomfort "hugely increas[ing]" before he ran away "down the dark passage" had me in tears of LOL.
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