Tired

• of people who should know better, since writing is what they do, than to contribute to the easy pegging of names/words to people, whether the issues are racism, religiously inspired dumbassery, feminism, and all other sorts of morality based judgments. We've got enough crap like that going on TV and the blogosphere as it is.
• of people who should know better twice-over, since writing Sfaich is what they do, than to contribute to reigning and ever-growing dumbassery that everything can be reduced to one simple word, one single issue. If world-making is already such a daunting task, why not learn from the experience and deduce that the real world is an even more daunting place to describe accurately?
• of people who should know better thrice-over, since they have hands-on experience on dealing with readers who may or may not give the whole extent of their lifework but a casual glance before making an easy single-word judgment based on a paragraph or even one book out of many. If you're not prepared to read up on the complicated field of ethics, don't make simple judgments based on an article or two, and especially don't parrot others who were obviously just as lazy.

Or, to quote my man Marcus:

Word after word, every one by itself, must the things that are spoken be conceived and understood; and so the things that are done, purpose after purpose, every one by itself likewise. And as in matter of purposes and actions, we must presently see what is the proper use and relation of every one; so of words must we be as ready, to consider of every one what is the true meaning, and signification of it according to truth and nature, however it be taken in common use
~Meditations, Book VII.4

d'oh

Yup, still alive a good beating with a sabre and a flu-now-turning-into-snotfest later. Been a naughty girl with the digiblippery, I know, I'm sure y'all missed me heaps. Promise I'll do better. Soon. Too much things in flux right now.

and yet...

Just had to share this cool thang I found through Global Guerrillas: mycelium as near nanotech assemblers.

Seriously, Capsule Corp ain't that far off.

Radio silence

Sshht, I'm way too busy with this to keep up with my imaginary and virtual audience, dearest digiblips. Yup, that's how low you rank in my life, how I'm doing in your ranking?
I'll be back to normal after the weekend, if the body craptastic holds up during the beatings I will be enduring and handing out.

And hopefully my judgment of distance has improved since this picture was taken.

Shtuff

Alrightie, finished reading Sykes' Tome of the Undergates. Did laundry, cleaned windows. Filled 3/4 big weight salvage bag with crap from the garden and shed and whatnot. Got one non-review up.
Now gonna cut the last grapes off the vines and perhaps round up some apples, and then I think I've been quite productive enough for an asthmatic person disabled by a cold-that-simply-won't-break-through-but-still-festers-in-the-airways. 

Wish Cow Watcher would stop chasing real devils and having imaginary conversations with real people, and occupy itself with stories and fantasy people.

*proot*

The problem of brainfarts is that they beget brainfarts and not even if you wrote day and night would you be able to write all those damned stories.

Cucumbers

So while I play All's Quiet at the Waterfront, let's not drown this blog in silence. I know how much you missed my non-review, beloved digiblips, even if that was a secret promise to myself and not to you (like duh, if you hadn't figured that out yet). You certainly missed the weekly adventures of my alter ego, not to mention my witty insights into whatever is hot news in Belgium.

To cover your pain I'll just copy paste three little items from my "something to talk about when it's cucumber time"-file. Cucumber Time equals what you English folks call the Silly Season now, but apparently at some period of time your English tailors also used cucumber time to indicate slow season. Now wondering whether it has something to do with the fact that pickling cucumbers/gherkins is not like, preserving the most nutritious or tasty foodstuffs, so not really working on surviving winter (imagine having to live on pickled gherkins all winter!). It's really not a heroic work either, not like fitting a couple of pumpkins into a jar or making chutney or sumfin.
Anyways, for your pleasure I'll trot out some brainfarts, like news is wont to do in such times, with stories about a Taiwanese dog helping old people crossing the street, or quaint medieval left-over habits of some village you have never heard of even if it's somewhere in your own country...

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SF/F/H in my mind sounds as Sfaich.

Meatball: Oh you write then? And what sorts of stories you write?
Me: Sfaich

I know, correctly pronounced it should be Esefefaich. But that sounds as if you've got a mental disease. But then, what do you write again?

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On "blogging community": Half the time I don't even read the crap you spout into cyberspace, digiblips, I just mark that shit read and move on. I can only follow two or maybe three blogs in depth, because there's also real world and news and silly stuff like that out there. And let's be honest, 2 or 3 people does not a community make. The whole format is also wrong, since you can't give and take on the same level. You yell something at the world, and maybe some of the world yells back. Is that valuable communication? Is that relation building?

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What everybody seems to have forgotten about in light of e-readers:
Suddenly it's all-okay to be staring at a lightbox for hours on end? The bad for the eyes has evaporated (true enough, we've got LCD instead of CRT now, but how is LCD less demanding on the eyes, especially on handheld devices, out in the open, with reflections assaulting the screen?). They truly are miraculous machines, aren't they?
Makes me kinda grudgy against all those years people nagged to be careful with me eyes (by me mom, me teachers, Concerned Parents Inc, and the government) when I was watching television and playing computer games for hours on end.

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In less brainfarty news: Mega-Evil-Beta Reader, whom you know as "hubby", dearest digiblips, started reading Tiger of Opal. He's making agreeing noises. Asked me about some of the noir stuff I put in, so obviously that's working. So far, at least, but allow me to go Weeeeeeee, even as his angry red pen scratches away at my beautiful baby.