sundries

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/12/opinion/12cokinos.html

The story of the solar system begins with dust: Stars died. They exploded. Their remains gathered from far distances to start again. ... The Indo-European base for the word “dust” is “dhus-no,” which is related to the base for "fury."

I mentioned to my mother that Patty and I are planning to go to Ocean Grove in a couple of weeks. She talked about staying with a relative in a nearby town with my father just last week:

"He was his usual unusual self," she said.

"You mean," I asked, "he's still cranky and racist?"

"Well, yes."

"That's not unusual. That's cranky and racist."

No suggestion I should contact said relative about using the house, which resolves that question in my mind (the house has a long family drama history that sort of involves me except for the part where it doesn't because I was a child when that shit was going on, and it involved a lot of adults claiming to be negotiating on my behalf).

My mother also mentioned that another relative was at the shore with his new lady-friend, and they were having an event at one of the inns, but she and my father declined to stay for it.

My mother is still offended by the matter in honor of the relative's now deceased wife. I'm offended by the matter, because these are all adults and my mother should be one too. I don't think the deceased wife would be offended, but my mother feels a particular loyalty to her.

They were both Jewish girls who had beach-side romances and married into this crazy Catholic family, although decades apart. It was during the war for the woman who is now deceased, and, unlike my mother, she converted to Catholicism, and, also unlike my mother, her husband got rich. But yes, I think my mother has always felt a kinship for being outcasts cast into this difficult family.

Some of my most vivid memories of a child are of being at their penthouse on Christmas Eve, mother mother and my aunt sitting on a couch, smoking and drinking champagne through straws as the bubbles bothered their teeth, reminiscing about what it was to be Jewish children before and after the War.

Then my aunt would get up, declare my mother the host of the party and leave with her husband for midnight mass at St. Patrick's. I was seven, eight, nine, and the Christmas tree was covered in crystal ornaments and there was such food! and I was always given designer clothes.

Sometimes, instead, Christmas was at their home (estate? 99 acres, I guess that's a fucking estate) in New Jersey and hundreds of people would come and there would be things like cold pumpkin soup and hired help in the kitchen. Then they wouldn't leave for midnight mass, but "their" priest would always come, and I remember him chatting with me while we ate salmon rolled around cream cheese. It wasn't the religion, but how culturally not Jewish it was, that I think drove my mother nuts.

My aunt had a hard, fucked-up life, that ended in a very different place than where she started it. One of her children died, of breast cancer at 39, after years of marriage and divorce, after joining a cult, after all sorts of things. She climbed so far, farther than my mother, but still, my mother always felt they were in on a secret together. I suppose they were, and she was really, the only life-long friend my mother has ever had.

Still, I think she needs to suck it up on this one with the widower and the new girlfriend.

My mother says I have to come over this weekend. She has something for me. This could be anything -- jewelry from the shop, photos of relatives I've asked for, random clothes she bought for me, or money or objects from the two relatively recent family deaths (the aunt and my grandfather). Mostly, I find I dislike the mystery.

Remember my fury a few days back about trolls and liars on the Internet? Have some detail: http://demotu.livejournal.com/108455.html

From the offered without commentary department: http://www.upi.com/Top_News/2009/08/12/Panel-Spice-should-be-banned-as-drug/UPI-86891250084107/ Definitely only funny to those familiar with Dune. Thanks, wcg.

Some epic fail coming out of WorldCon. Read. Learn. Follow the links. Goggle with incredulity. http://karnythia.livejournal.com/1334378.html (for clarity: karnythia = good; fail described and linked to = bad).

All of a sudden, my fandom is fully of Ianto as service submissive stories. RAD. Okay, two, and one is spiderine's series from ages ago. The other is from alex51324 here. But are there more of these? By good authors? It's not my canon interpretation of Ianto at all, but the people writing it well are writing such lovely things.

Someone much younger than me at work yesterday asked me what the healthcare reform debate was like in the Clinton years. "Was it this angry?" he asked. And it shocked me, to remember what that all felt like then and yet to say no. No, of course not. People just complained that Hilary Clinton hadn't been elected and said misogynistic things. There was none of this shouting at town halls and mass murder conspiracies and Hitler fantasies and delusions that Medicare and Medicaid aren't run by the government. We can argue that things were more civil because healthcare reform didn't get as far, but really, I just think between then and now, we've simply gone crazy as a nation.

Also, relevantly: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/12/health/policy/12insure.html

More on hostessing in Japan: http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/08/11/womens-work-and-japans-hostess-culture/ which totally has that sex-work without the sex thing going on, much like some of what we've been discussing lately in terms of con appearances and genre actors.

Mount Vernon on Prince Edward Island: http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2009/08/11/greathomesanddestinations/0812-prince-slideshow_index.html (kalichan, look at creepy gazebo photo and think wizards!)