sundries

[rm]

Patty downloaded a bunch of her trip photos from her camera to her computer last night. Many of them are stunning to a breathtaking degree. I'm hoping she posts hers soon. I still have several islands worth to share with you all, but am a bit swamped right now.

Headshots February 5th. Okay, actually more like headshots, compcard, genderqueer author promo shot, and a video headshot slate thing. Look, I've needed to do it forever. That's all I've got to say about that. I'm having another neurotic convo with the photog today (me being neurotic, not him).

In recognition that my life does its awesomest shit when things become oddly circular, I'm now feeling ridiculously sanguine about something that was making kinda hysterical and edgy yesterday.

This is the item about which I have nothing to say.

Consweet!

Meanwhile, I love when I tell people what to do, and they do it, and then everyone gets what they want.

Lots of new updates on the Gallifrey schedule. I'm now on three panels. I suspect this is relatively close to final for me and everyone else now. I'm pleased by everything except that I'll be missing Tony interview Georgia Moffett, but then who the hell ever went to Gally for what happens on stage? So I have the death/mourning panel, immediately followed by the crossplay panel. I've said since the beginning that I simply will not cosplay at the death/mourning panel both because it's too weird for everyone and because it's a distraction from the material and because I feel like it's all sorts of disrespectful and I also might cry, but if I don't, then I'm not in cosplay for, you know, A FUCKING COSPLAY PANEL THAT I REALLY CARE ABOUT.

Another review of my play. This one awful. But not in a scathing precise awful way that I can actually take to heart, just in a "it's about whores and a retard and I don't get it" way. They also didn't get a spoof of Othello, so it's cool.

help_haiti auctions are winding up. Items with no bids yet are here.

hakeber continues to follow the earthquake swarm. Generally, aftershocks continue to go down in magnitude. So the 6.1 that hit Haiti today? That's extra alarming.

Starting in 2011, NYTimes.com will charge for access to articles over a certain quota per month. I can tell you right now, this isn't going to work.

Sexual transgression and digital armies -- when technology makes it easy for everyone to catch anyone, in which directions are our values going to shift? Hate the tone of the piece, love the question. Fanfic and original fic writers looking at how we get from our current values to a different set of sexual mores, look here.

Men, women, success and marraige:

Ms. Zielinski, the fashion stylist, said her best friend, a man, told her once: “ ‘You are confident, have good credit, own your own business, travel around the world and are self-sufficient. What man is going to want you?’ He laughed, but I found that pretty depressing.”

Robert B. Parker has died. He's the dude who brought us the Spencer books. I got into them for a brief while, because my ex was really into them. They were airport books for me and of interest because of gender -- men were men and women were women and maybe I could figure out how to do _something_ from them. I didn't. And then I got bored. But I was fond of them, and they were friends when I needed them.

Comments

[ex-adarog.livejournal.com]

Boy, with "friends" like that, Ms. Zielinski doesn't need any enemies, does she?

[laughingacademy.livejournal.com]

That is the funniest icon I've seen so far this week.

[ex-adarog.livejournal.com]

It's not completely appropriate to the spirit of my reply, but it was the closest thing I had on hand. *g*

[gement.livejournal.com]

Those don't look like chicken pants to me.

They look like BIG GAY SWAN PANTS.

I love that Swan Lake with all my pervy little heart.

I love that ballet, too.

[ex-adarog.livejournal.com]

Aha, you recognized those chicken pants!

My husband dubbed them "chicken pants" when we first saw the ballet. Then we noticed that actually most birds have little feathers on their legs down to the joint, so we started calling *them* chicken pants. Except on falcons, when you have to call them "falcon pants" or else you get chomped. *g*