Quick crosspost: fringe

Jul. 22nd, 2017 04:50 am
vvalkyri: (Default)
[personal profile] vvalkyri
I wrote the below over on FB:
I just saw the Changeling Child and it was, bar none, my favorite show this Fringe. A sequel to Midsummer Night's Dream, a generation along, and really sweet. One last performance tomorrow (Saturday) at 145p at Atlas. I'll be seeing something nearby so might even be able to meet up first to loan a button. Srsly, try to see it :). Fringe goes thru Sunday plus a few shows extended but sadly not this one.
There was a bit of screaming and gnashing of teeth involved: I dictated something like it into safari facebook on my phone a few minutes after wandering off from chatting with Tommx and Erica, and then it offered tagging someone and I hit 'back' and it took me back to my notifications. Then I went through typing it in again, since at the fringe bar it was too loud for dictation, and just before I was to hit post, the phone turned itself off, out of power. I finally posted from [personal profile] exsmof's phone.

Anyway, it was delightful. I wasn't laughing as much as I did in One in Four, but it's also a whole play, and sweet, and extremely well done.

Less than 10 hours before I'm ticketed to Exit pursued by bear. 2pm, Atlas.

I somehow doubt I'll get to Trey Parker's Cannibal The Musical at 11:15.


Might try to get to something more tomorrow or Sunday. Been thinking to get to Heroes' Tale.

Debating Exit Carolyn. If I go to the 7p I can't go to an acro thing in Rockville, though it does put me pretty close to a party...

Oh! Yeah, Clara Bow: Becoming It was worthwhile, and is at 3:45.

and ugh. I really have to go to sleep. Oh hell, I think I may have said I'd meet [personal profile] badmagic ahead of Exit for lunch. eep.

(no subject)

Jul. 21st, 2017 09:30 pm
arethinn: Wakko Warner blinking (humor silly (wakko))
[personal profile] arethinn
Because everyone cares about my culinary adventures: Read more... )
vatine: books-related stuff (books)
[personal profile] vatine
Reread.

Second of the Spatterjay (sub-)series in Asher's Polity universe. Takes place about ten years after the end of the previous book. We do, again, follow several different viewpoint characters, on all sorts of moral sides of any situation that may happen in the book. Some are returning characters, some are new.

I'd definitely recommend starting with the first book in the series, but all in all an eminently readable book.

(no subject)

Jul. 21st, 2017 10:46 am
vvalkyri: (Default)
[personal profile] vvalkyri
Gah. I decided not to go to Rockville to another evening of shiva last night because I really really needed to do something about my apartment and look at flights and such, for my own sanity. Going to the free fringe production of Shakespeare in the Pub then back home with K seemed like it would be a good compromise - how to turn down 11 women who've been drinking, a couple of whom I knew, doing a read through of Titus Andronicus with enough fake blood there were warnings re what clothes to wear? But the info had said 1.5 hrs. I hadn't expected 6:45 to end at 9:05, and I even more regret staying for Abortion Road Trip*.

Because really pathetically I don't trust myself to get anything done alone.

*everybody else seemed to enjoy it a lot more than I did. There were some strong performances, but I really hated the acting of one of the characters, and I was annoyed by the character with the most lines, and I was distracted by finding fault with the initial premise. Also? Neither K nor the guy on the other side of me had any memory of the character,"Mom."

on books

Jul. 20th, 2017 11:59 am
vvalkyri: (Default)
[personal profile] vvalkyri
crossposted:
when i got home last night there were a bunch of boxes of books by the recycling. They were in good condition and looked like anything from interesting to rare (there were some large Russian English dictionaries on top of one, and some Shostakovitch records on another) so I moved them to my parking space where nothing is supposed to live but I can probably get away with it a couple days, and pinged someone who is already handling getting other stuff to a charity he favors, and grabbed out Katherine Graham's autobiography for immediate reading.

My building has a building library; I'm not sure whether I should've given it first crack, but that would have required getting the boxes up a flight of stairs and through a couple doors at 3am, rather than just 50 feet to my space.

I'm not sure what sorting I should do before they go to support Fairfax Auxilliary. Probably start with grabbing out anything in Russian... .

I'm sad, because I'm pretty sure this is the collection of someone who died. And it also has me thinking of all the books Mom has, some of which are Old and Important, and many of which are outdated and random. And many of which Dad once wanted back.
That last paragraph may be a bit open for my usual friendsfriends security level over there on FB.

It seriously was sad, seeing things like that. I rescue stuff. It's so important to me that it has a home and not a landfill. And yet I do know that getting stuff to goodwill is yet another measure of cope, and even there one needs to be realistic about what they will and will not put out to sell. That's part of why I have so much grandma stuff that needs to be dumped on a "we sell it all on ebay and you get a cut." Because that Eastern Airlines tiny carryon that needs a zipper repair will be thrown out by goodwill, and treasured by the right person. When Allyson was over helping me through a large amount of momclothes she was overjoyed to take the Woodies and Garfinkles boxes from the closet. Cardboard boxes, but she wraps stuff in boxes from defunct stores and she especially loves local defunct stores.

A sweet little old man who lived a few doors down died a few years ago. As part of cleaning out the place, the family had put a box of mugs and glasses in the trash room. I'd looked through it, and seen a small mug, smaller than I usually use, emblazoned with [specific dc high school 50th reunion]. Kept it around to honor the guy, vaguely intending to contact said high school. A year or so later, Shira was over, and I showed it to her, and she took it with her! I don't think it was the high school she'd attended; I'd have to ask. But to her it was a sufficiently meaningful bit of DC history she wanted it.

This is all part of why it's so hard to sort. What is a life? This is part of why it's so hard to get rid of even things I don't really want. I guess I imbue things with a soul. Not just "does it give me joy" but "can I get it to someoen for whom it will?"

I have to stop typing; I decided to keep plans for today and need to leave soon.
vvalkyri: (Default)
[personal profile] vvalkyri
There's so very much to write. I didn't write about Baitcon. I didn't write much about MomYartzeit. I didn't write about New Story Leadership project (final event today at 630 at Archives). Or the various thought provoking plays I've seen at Fringe.

But I woke up this morning with I helped bury someone yesterday in my head.

I've known Sonya Schultz since her son Ben and I dated back in high school. Sophomore and Jr years. It was at their house I first was part of Havdalah. It was with them I first went to Simchas Torah - Ben and I went in all our Sadie Hawkins finery before going on to the dance. In the years that followed, she included me in her huge seders when I wasn't in Cleveland. In recent years other friends have offered invites first, or I've been in Cleveland. It's been a while since I've been to the house. My last sure memory of talking in person was shortly after Ben's now three year old was born. It was some years before that, in that apartment, when she said to me, "Marry one of my sons; I don't care which!" At the house last night, I was reminded by more than one of the family that she would have adopted me in, regardless.

I spent much of the day yesterday with Cathie and later Lauren. They would each occasionally run into Sonya and sometimes also David at Strathmore, or at Costco. I am envious.

It's kinda weird. In a certain way she and I were more regularly in touch the last couple years because she would respond in my facebook here and there. But I had no idea she was ill, because it had been so long since she and I had spoken in person. And tbh, I might not have known anyway -- people commented last night they'd just seen her at shul a week ago.

The funeral was long and full. Cathie and I were some of the few who ended up parking on the street because the parking lot was full. There were some beautiful stories and some heartbreak, and as is always the case for me, I learned more and was sad not to know it earlier. Bits about just how fiercely there she was for her kids, bits about her involvement with the shul, or defying being told "no woman can pass this econ test," or that they'd been on their most recent cruise only in May. Or that they'd planned to remodel the kitchen. I could so visualize that kitchen, the house. It wasn't the house they had when Ben and I dated; I don't remember that one, now.

At the gravesite, there was a traditional handwash station. One washes on leaving a graveyard. She and Ben had been at my grandmother's funeral at Arlington. Memories came flooding back of her coming up to me to give me wet wipes in the absence of the two handled cup. "al natitlat yadayim."

I've only been to a couple gravesites that weren't Jewish funerals*. Even so, there were things that were new to me. More traditional. That we all process together with the coffin but stop 7 times in reluctance. That one should add at least three shovelfulls of earth because 3 makes it not an accident or coincidence. That the first shovelful should be the back of the shovel, because we don't really want to be efficient in saying goodbye. That we shouldn't hand the shovel along to the next but instead put it back into the pile.

I've never before been to a funeral with real shovels adding the earth that had just been dug out, rather than symbolic trowelsful. After a while there was one person who went back and was shoveling more, for real, and Ben's younger brother for a while, and if there had been more than two shovels and I had been more clear whether it was okay or I was too far from the family I wanted to as well, despite the dress and shoes. It was hot, very hot. We said kaddish and we all went to the cars. Last night I learned that J had finished shoveling all the dirt for his grandparents, and would really have preferred to have done so here. And that the small bucket I'd wondered about that his girlfriend troweled from may have been Jerusalem dirt, but the part that was important to her was it also contained a vegan truffle she'd made for Sonya, but which Sonya had suggested bringing on Saturday but then not felt up to eating. This sounds so odd, written, but brought tears to my eyes in person.

I'd planned on going to a couple fringe plays last night, and I'm glad I hadn't preticketed. I spent the afternoon with Lauren, and then was in the right part of town to go over to shiva last night rather than trying to force getting there on Thursday. And the reason why shiva is traditionally in the deceased's house was so very apparent. So many memories in these rooms. A memory of a shiva, even. Sonya's mother.

I need to get moving. There's more to write and there isn't. There's contrasts with my mom's death, and after. Maybe later.


*One was Steve Devoney's dad, a couple months ago, after which everybody retired to the house and there were stories and video. One was a close friend, 8 years ago. The funeral itself had been a mass in latin at which there happened to be a coffin; the gravesite was in English and I think maybe mentioned her name. After everybody left her aunt started wedging flowers in any part of the coffin handles and hinges she could, and a couple of us joined in this until the coffin was covered in flowers, and then after the people came and lowered the coffin we dropped more flowers on top. And they put the concrete or whatever cover on and uncovered the dirt and I commented that in Jewish funerals we add the dirt. To make it final, real. And the four of us still there we each did add a handful. And that's when the aunt cried.
vatine: books-related stuff (books)
[personal profile] vatine
Previously unread.

This is the, what, ninth? eighth? book in Stross's The Laundry Files and the wheels on the hand-basket are truly on their way out, along a radial trajectory.

This book sees the return of many faces from previous books, as we slowly see things unwind around Bob. I am trying real hard to not let anything slip here, you see, as I feel that approaching the book spoiler-free is the most, ah, enjoyable? way of reading it. Surprising at least.

Anyway, Laundry Files, if you've read some of them before, you know what to expect. If you haven't, might I humbly suggest that this is perhaps not the best starting point (although it may well work as an intro novel). We do a fair bit of POV shifting in this book, even if it's primarily a "Bob" book (we also follow Mo, Mhari and Cassie, as well as the occasional follow-the-baddies).

All in all, a gripping read. I shall blame technology (and not being completely done with the previous book in time for the release) for taking this abysmally long to finish off something that was released a whole 4 days ago.

2017 - #72, "The Skinner", Neal Asher

Jul. 15th, 2017 01:55 pm
vatine: books-related stuff (books)
[personal profile] vatine
Reread.

This is the first book in the Sptterjay series, set in Asher's Polity world.

Time-wie, the Spatterjay books fall well after the rest of the series (bar, possibly, Transformation), but as the first two books takes place entirely (or almost entirely) on the planet of Spatterjay (see how the planet meshes with the name of the series...), it's not massively important exactly how it lines up timewise.

We follow a couple of different viewpoint characters. Ehrlin is a Hooper (that is, someone who's been infected by the leech virus, present in most (if not all) lifeforms on Spatterjay), who's been away from Spatterjay for a while, having adventures. Janer is employed by a sentient hornet hive, that he (some decades ago) spent two years indentured to, for killing one of its bodies at a football match. Sable Keech is a reif (basically a cyber-enhanced walking corpse), and ECS monitor. Sniper, a war drone. And Windcatcher, which I shall say nothing about. And a few more, who get walk-on POV roles.

Fundamentally, this is a story about loss and revenge. And how these things change, as time passes. I guess there's some talk about life and what immortality may mean for the human condition.

Again, this is a Polity book so it's kinda grimdark, in places.

(no subject)

Jul. 14th, 2017 11:34 am
arethinn: Flounder from The Little Mermaid, screaming, text "AAAAAA" (scared (flounder aaa))
[personal profile] arethinn
The asbestos abatement guys showed up promptly at 8 AM to rip the old vinyl flooring and whatever else they did out of our second bathroom. (This is after a plumbing collapse just outside the wall of the house last September that backed up into both bathrooms, and then endless jousting with AAA over exactly what was to be done and who would pay what blah blah blah. The master bath was done in June.) The upshot of this is that I have now had breakfast, two mugs of tea, run the dishwasher, and read all my internet and it's still not even noon. What do??

pulled from FB for posterity

Jul. 13th, 2017 11:18 am
vvalkyri: (Default)
[personal profile] vvalkyri
yesterday:
Learned: sunscreen and greek yogurt look a lot like one another smeared on one's plastic wallet. It's understandable to confuse them if both have been in that bag recently, but you really don't want to lick the former off the plastic wallet. Also? That would explain why the fruit and yogurt tupperware seemed still sound and yet the wallet was smeared.
(when Petrona asked, "Did you lick it? Enquiring minds want to know") my response was
I have it on good authority that I am very much a cat when I have tasted something I actively dislike (which is very infrequent -- my concept of okay is pretty vast) - Ken can attest to my reaction to reduced stout in an icecream. I would assume that E derived some amusement from my reaction to the taste of Neutrogena Dry Touch.


Today:
Been listening to wamu's the 1a about the gun debate. is noted that on certain things almost the entire country is in agreement e.g. background checks. NRA didn't join the discussion but the National African American Gun Association did.
A comment I found worth remembering -- that rural vs urban makes for very different attitudes and associations re weapons. It dovetailed with something from the other day -- I'd driven up to a part of Maryland where the lots are 5 acres and my friends have a bunch of woods on their property. During and after dinner there kept being booms that might have been someone shooting targets on their property or might have been someone doing stuff with fireworks*. The older kid kept yelling toward the neighbors (who obviously wouldn't have heard) to stop it already; the dad pointed out that it was perfectly legal to shoot on one's own property around here. The kid, of course, remembers when they used to live in Hyattsville, and the sound of shooting meant the family and cats would hunker down in the basement.
*it still being broad daylight I found the latter possibility confusing but in MD I suppose visible fireworks wouldn't go well.

(semirelated, I had an insanely long and occasionally very frustrating thread about The fist of truth NRA ad in which the husband of the NRA spokeslady came in to insist the vid I and many found practically a call to war against the Left wandered in and insisted it was an antiviolence ad. Ping me and I'll send you a link; I don't publicly link this account to my given name)
vatine: books-related stuff (books)
[personal profile] vatine
Reread.

First book in Jansen's Ambassador series. I must've confused this with another "interstellar ambassador" book, since my distinct memory was "ugh, do not like". This, as it turns out, is wrong.

Where was I? Ah, yes, Cory Wilson, our intrepid viewpoint character, is just about to start his job as ambassador for Earth to the gamra assembly, part of the interstellar crowd that run The Exchange (basically, what enables interstellar travel). And as part of the upcoming travel, he's talking to the president of the UN (well, it's called something else, and it seems to be an actual ruling body, and, you know...) when the unthinkable happens. And the unthinkable is taht there's a direct attack on said president, while our POV character is in the office.

And from there, things start unravelling at a frightening pace.

All in all, eminently readable. Now I'm vaguely interested in chasing down my previous post about this one.

Profile

michiexile: (Default)
michiexile

June 2014

S M T W T F S
1 234567
891011121314
15161718192021
2223242526 2728
2930     

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 24th, 2017 12:36 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios