na foine ting

Saturday, April 30, 2005
It all caught up with me.

About five minutes ago.

I hurt, I'm tired of hurting constantly, I'm tired of the struggle, day to day, to just get around. Feeling like half a person. Pissed off at my foot for hurting, and even more pissed off at it for being useless.

I chose being laid off from my job rather than commute to San Francisco, mostly because I'd like my kids to remember my name at the end of the week ("who're you? We have *two* moms?").

I miss hockey so bad I want to cry.

Cry enough to make a big rink and skate on salt ice and dribble a puck around, except my fucking foot won't fit in a skate, even if I could put enough weight on it to skate.

I want one of those Cadbury easter eggs, the disgusting kind that are so sugary they make my teeth hurt.

Because, for one, it's chocolate. And it sounds good.

And anyway, maybe if my teeth hurt it would take my mind off my foot for a while.

Fuck this shit.

I want to be on the ice.

I gave up my roster spot on the Ice Hounds, because the reality is, as Noel pointed out, I won't even be there half a season.

Tonight, I'm done being brave about it. I hurt, I'm tired, I want a stick and a puck and my skates and a fucking chocolate easter egg.


That's all.

Thursday, April 28, 2005
Since I got my cast off, I've been having quite a bit of pain in my foot.

I've been frustrated by it, and a little bit flummoxed, since there's been no real pain putting weight on it, and I'm keeping it elevated.

It's been frustrating to have something hurt and not be able to get at the reason, deal with the source.


I'm getting older.

I know this because I get less worked up about people being upset with who I am.

I've realized even if I want to, I really can't change that much. I'm a selfish, volatile, arrogant, moody, often reclusive often social, person. I am ridiculously bad at maintaining things -- relationships, the state of the interior of my car, correspondence -- and I think over the course of my life my lack of constancy... and I do think it's that, that sense of constant reliability... has cost me friendships.

At some level, I'm sad about that.

At another, I'm not.

There's a certain Darwinism of honesty of self, you know? I can promise to call, to write, and the fact is sometimes I do and when I do it's very intense and good, but more often I don't.

In the last few years, I most often say, instead of "I'll call," which is usually not the case, something like "I'm bad at calling people. I ignore the phone a lot. If you really need to get ahold of me, call my cell and explain it's important." I'll even say "Be persistent."

I suppose it's a reasonable reaction to compare me to a baseline sort of friend and say "that's ridiculous. Why should I do all the work?"

Quite right.

But you see, it doesn't change the fact of who I am. I can try to call more often, but I was crappy at it twenty years ago, and chances are I'll be that way now. If I do call, or write, or whatever it is I'm supposed to do, then swell.

And what I mean by Darwinism is this: I am lucky to have, in my life, a rather large, reasonably diverse group of friends who are aware of who I am, what I am, and in fact how I am, and they deal with it. Not only deal with it, but seem to like me just fine and love me a lot and in some cases (or at least I hope) get a fair amount out of our friendship, however sort of on again off again it might be.

I think the thing is, that when people do finally get my attention (which I admit sometimes includes marching straight into my line of sight with the emotional equivalent of a brass band), I am quite a good friend. I do very much care, maybe in intense ways that are even too intense for people who are used to, as these things go, the sort of more constant, less intense, more normal way of interacting.

The folks who put up with me... or I'm assuming this anyway... get enough out of those moments of trained focus and intensity that they're willing to put up with the rest.

I like that.

It feels... safe to me.

Trying to be something I'm inherently not, no matter how much I try, is very anxious-making. If I can be, very simply, as I am, and have that be OK with people, it's a great gift.

And those of you reading this know who you are, I think.

And to you, cymbals and whistles and snare drums and all, thank you.


It took me a few days to figure out where the pain was coming from.

I'd been tensing my foot since the cast came off.

Without the protection, I was sure I was going to bump it and hurt it, or step on it wrong and it was going to hurt.

It's funny; we can hurt ourselves more bracing for hurt than we would just taking the hurt when it comes.

You know?

Monday, April 25, 2005
Things to be grateful for:

1. Phil, who used to be a tech manager here and is now a salesguy. He's got a deep, resonant voice that sounds so much like my grandfather it sometimes makes my throat tight. I've been craving mochas the whole time I've had a cast on. Phil's been in Florida that whole time, getting trained to be a salesguy after being a tech guy. Today was Phil's first day back and the first thing he says to me is, "Hey, Kate, I'm going out. Ya want anything?" which sounded so much like my grandfather I almost asked for red vines and twinkies, which is the sneak snack he and I used to eat, but instead asked for a mocha, and he went not to the Starbucks, which is closer, but to the little indie place I really like and bought me *exactly* the mocha I wanted. For over a month now. I love Phil.

2. Enormous attachments in email. I still can't quite believe I got what I got in email today. I think if someone had sent me a box with Jeff Friesen in it and a gift tag that said "he's single, go for it," I might be slightly *less* happy, actually, than I was on receiving this email today. The enormity is still hitting me, which is why it's #2. That and I'm only halfway through the mocha.

3. Lili likes mashed potatoes. I was having rather fantastic shepherd's pie last night (Bec makes better shepherd's pie than I've had anywhere, and I mean *anywhere* including pubs in backwaters like Gairloch), and Lili was in her bouncy seat watching me intently. I would lift the fork, her little blue gaze would follow the fork. I would open my mouth and she would stare and stare, and then her lips would work and smoosh and her little hands lifted up as if to telekenetically beam that forkful of mashed potatoes straight to her little eager mouth.

I know, I know. No spice, no butter, no cow's milk no savory little crumbs of lamb and all the other things that go into the mashed potato part of shepherd's pie. But she was smacking her lips at me so... so... insistently.

So she got her first solid food. Only to find that the babysitter broke down to her big pleading eyes and fed her some banana last week, the little minx.

4. My cast is off. Completely. No more cast, no brace, no walking cast, nothing. The doc says because I'm in good shape and healthy I'm healing about a week ahead of schedule, and they're very happy with my progress. The bone in X-ray is very deformed and scary-looking, but he assures me it functions fine like that and--most importantly--will not affect my skating at all.

I can start putting weight on it now (and I can SHOWER!!!!!), and even more amazingly, he says I should be able to start skating again in a month. I can't believe it. I was expecting the worst.

5. This mocha's really, really good.

Friday, April 22, 2005
Been working here and there on some game graphics for an online RPG I'll be running soon.

Duck! Scary things!

Max, and Rebeccas both, not to mention miss N, I'm sure this image is allllll the hell too familiar.

Look! In living color... the nightmare revisited. Bwah hah hah hah hah.

No one should have ever let me near Photoshop, I swear to god.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Listen carefully, because this is a bit difficult to follow. I've been writing song lyrics recently for a very talented and entirely fictional character, Edi McCandry. Edi is originally a character Emma Bull made up, which is important because this all comes interestingly full circle in a minute here.

Edi is not just a character Emma Bull made up, but a role playing/gaming character faced by Miranda Otto (mrrrowww), and although I'd like to post her gorgeous webpage up I'll refrain, because really it all infringes copyright left and right and center.

Edi's player is a very talented writer, and plays her gorgeously, and mentioned wanting some original songs for the character to perform in play, so we talked about Edi's new (fictional) album (and I will post the album cover, which is gorgeous and original, and I'll post that as soon as I get a link from the player), and I sat down with some raw material that seemed right (Tennyson's "Lady of Shalott" and some bits and pieces from the LotR that had gone into the character page), and came up with some songs.

Well, everyone's been so complimentary about all the songs in play that my head got huge, and since I liked the song Widdershins in particular (it's below), I thought gosh wouldn't it be nice if someone actually sang these sometime.

This got me thinking about anyone who sings that kind of music who's even remotely someone I have contact with, which narrowed it down to only a couple of women (oddly enough I know lots of men who sing magical, celtic-inspired songs but very few women). One of these was the Fabulous Lorraine, originally of the Flash Girls who, of course was Lorraine Garland and Emma Bull.

Hah! See, full circle I came, and walking counterclockwise, thank you very much.

Anyway, I sent "Widdershins" off to Lorraine and got a nice note back from Malena, the other half of the visually stunning and talented Lorraine a' Malena duo, who have an album coming out this summer with all kinds of awesome stuff on it.

So there you go.

The songs I've written for Edi to date are below. The name of the fictional album is "Regret of Armor."


Regret of Armor

I had the wrong address
Took the wrong fork in the road I
Forgot where I was and he had

Lips like roses
Spun gold hair
Angel's voice and
Turn me away

Turn me away

I must have been dreaming
Light off the armor blinded me
Some kind of fairytale and he had

Lips like roses
Spun gold hair
Angel's voice and
Turn me away

Turn me away

I lift up the visor
His eyes were bluer than sky and my
World turned to ash and he had

Lips like roses
Spun gold hair
Angel's voice and
Turn me away

Turn me away... give me

All that is real and
All that is you and
All that is hungry and
Hopeful and eyes that are yours and like
nothing like nothing at all...

Turn me away
Turn me away


The lady of Shalott

I kept trying to call you
A language I forgot, and you had long since turned away

All those castles crumbled
And even iron shatters
And what was real was just a dream and the dream was what was real and
I’m so sorry

I am half sick of shadows


All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

I swear I’m trying to call you
A language I forget, and you have long since turned away

Floating down the river
I’m dead and I still love you
And what was real was just a dream and the dream was what was real and
I’m so sorry

And in his mercy lend me grace

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.


Right, and that's enough unbridled geekdom for one day.

I think it stops *just* this side of filking. Ack.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Hey... this is kinda cool.

I Am A: Chaotic Good Elf Fighter Ranger

Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.

Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently concern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existance.

Primary Class:
Fighters are the warriors. They use weapons to accomplish their goals. This isn't to say that they aren't intelligent, but that they do, in fact, believe that violence is frequently the answer.

Secondary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.

Tymora is the Chaotic Good goddess of luck and good fortune. She is also known as Lady Luck, and also Tyche's fair-tressed daughter. Followers of Tymora believe in the tenent that, 'Fortune Favors the Bold,' and will throw caution to the wind and trust to luck to work things out for the best. Tymora's symbol is an unmarked silver disk.

Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

And many, many more.

Dan other Dan not that Dan from before bonked me with this one:

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be? I stared at this a long time and I still don't understand it. I'm glad to know that Dan, who's a terrifyingly smart person, also struggled with it. I think I want to be Excalibur #1. I'm not sure, though. What was the question again?

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Heh. Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh. Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh...

No. Never.

Where do I possibly *start??*

The one true love of all time, though, is Dumas' Bussy d'Amboise. I will never love any fictional character so much as I love him.

The last book you bought is
Eeek. I can't remember. Books for Gavin from Scholastic. Shrek or some awful thing.

The last book you read:
Sir Ranulph Finnes' memoir. It's fabulous.

What are you currently reading?
A friend's novel final draft.

Five books you would take to a deserted island?
Yeah, this is definitely a trick question question. I'd take Gaiman's AMERICAN GODS, Dumas' CHICOT THE JESTER (see?), Pinsky's FIGURED WHEEL, Pernoud's JOAN OF ARC, and a blank book to write a book in.

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why? Rebecca, Rebecca and Nikki, because I ran out of Rebeccas.


And Bussy is my true love, but Julian was the first.


Still carry a torch for him.

Sunday, April 17, 2005

Circle in the grass
And a pinch of salt and
I hold my breath when the
Moon's behind a

Cloud in the water
And the tea leaves swirl and
I tie my plait on the
Willow boughs to

Kiss to the fire
And a half burnt cake and
I bite the seed for the
Blood to flow on

Hands to the heavens
And a hopeful spell and
I lift the veil say his
Name to come to

Circle in the grass
And a pinch of salt…



That should really be a song. If anyone wants to make it a song, please do.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Question: do you see fucking in church as a desecration?

Not during services, of course.


Gavin and I took Lili to the Roasted Coffee Bean today, after I picked her up from daycare.

We'd stopped at the bank, where I took a chance and parked in a handicapped spot because there was otherwise going to be a massive, exhausting, 200 or so yard crutch to the bank front door. With a five year old in tow.

When I came back from the bank, a parking cop was already standing by the truck. I crutched over.

"I'm back," I said, and she looked straight at me and my shocking pink cast and said

"You can't park here without a handicapped placard. This is a three hundred dollar ticket."

I said "I know, I'm sorry, but this was the closest I could get, the nearest parking spot was a really long way away and I wasn't even sure I could make it that far."

"Do you have a handicapped placard?"


Gavin's watching all this. "You can't park here without a placard," she told me. Looking at me, and looking at him.

I looked at him, and looked at her. "I know. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

She waved at Gavin. "See you later, alligator," she said, and walked off without giving me a ticket. Or saying anything else.

"Why didn't she give you a ticket?" Gavin wanted to know.

"Because she wanted to make sure I understood the rules, and I think she got it that I did," I said.

"Did you break the law?"

"Yes," I said. "And she gave me a break and just reminded me."

"Oh," said Gavin.

And he seemed highly satisfied with that.

Thursday, April 14, 2005
If you haven't seen Cronenberg's "Spider" yet, do.

It's a gorgeous, understated, beautifully acted piece, with Ralph Finnes as usual having exactly the right sense of how much is precisely enough, all the time.

It's visually stunning, in a very low key way, and Cronenberg manages to take you along on this journey to the more extreme parts of the human psyche without ever resorting to cheap shock or sentimentality to deliver a serious punch.

Gabriel Byrne and Miranda Richardson also deliver top-notch performances. It's a nearly perfect movie.


You know that Blake poem we all know because it's also a hymn and it gets used in cinema all the time?

This one:

I mean, just look how rich a source it's been. "Chariot of fire," "dark Satanic mills," and I know if I hummed the tune you'd go, oh yeah, that one. Think "Chariots of Fire" and "Calendar Girls," just for a start.

And Blake... we'll, Blake's Blake and we love good old one brick short of the Masonic load Blake, but does this poem strike anyone else besides me as somewhat sinister?

No sheep in England but those who are good Godly sheep, and Catholic to boot?

Blake wasn't Catholic. He was anti-deist, and certainly against the conservative structure of religion in general, despite being his own sort of wild, somewhat Gnostic breed of Christian.

I've been mulling this poem over, and although I'm reading that it's supposed to be about a sort of pious statement of zealous intent to convert England to a sort of idealized Christian state, and certainly it's sung that way as a hymn...

...I'm wondering if it isn't meant to be deeply ironic.

In other works, Blake depicts pastoral England as an "innocent" England, and any visitation of "heaven" on earth is usually a negative influence. The demonic influences he depicts are usually in fact the fires of revolution, which as a radical he was mostly sympathetic to.

Which means that in "Jerusalem," the angelic force tranforming the green and pleasant hills is potentially one of devastation, and not a good, revolutionary kind.

Something to think about, anyway. If it's the case, I like this poem a lot better than I thought I did.


Ah. Found a midi link.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Someone wondered to me recently in email (and given how I am known to answer or rather not answer email figure that could have been sometime this year) that my tone on this thing had gotten serious all of a sudden. Or frustrated, or something other than perky. Which I am capable of, you know, with the proper application of things like hockey, alcohol and/or chocolate. Perkiness, I mean.

It might be the case.

However, as I said to another friend, despite a few curve balls, it's really impossible to be consistently sad or anything like that in the face of a four month old, particularly when that face is grinning toothlessly at you and making cute squeaky noises it just learned.


I miss hockey like a hole in my heart.

Melodramatic, also true. Not being able to spectate and play, both at the same time, must be some sort of test of the Emergency Kate Systems. But I'm under two weeks before the cast's off, and Bryan A. says he'll get me through rehabbing it, which gives me something to look forward to, in that "it'll hurt but be worth it" kind of way.

And meanwhile I dream about pro hockey, in full color, and wake up wondering how the boys are all doing in their various locations around the world.

Sarah said I ought to have my cast signed, and asked who I'd most want it signed by.

I said Marco Sturm.


It's impossible to *miss* Paul, really, in that way you miss a loved one who's just died. I talked to him infrequently, despite what an idee fixe he was in my life.

I miss him in a tangential way: there's no hole he left to fall into suddenly, in my day to day life.

But I look down a road I used to drive to his house, for example, and regret that if I wanted to visit, he's no longer residing there.


No, all right, really, Dan (the other Dan). Now I'm all paranoid about my tone.

Thanks a bunch. Pttthththtt. (How's that for chipper?)


1. Kate
2. Lauren
3. Red (usually with something derisive after it from the opposing bench, ie., "get your elbow down, Red!")
1. lotusice
2. maenad1138
3. Bartok the Bat
1. ass
2. hands
3. can skate fast and take hits despite my advanced age
1. neck gets whiplashed too easily
2. foot is broken (fortunately still under warranty)
3. brain periodically misfires, usually around the 28th of the month
1. Scottish
2. German
3. Samoan (heritage, not ethnicity, right??)
1. oral surgery
2. not being strong enough
3. the idea of something happening to my wife or kids
1. internet
2. coffee with too much sugar and cream
3. hockey
1. dangerously low cut slinky top that's a very odd shade of mottled dark blue and rose
2. a screaming bright pink foot cast with matching toenail polish
3. a purple thong
1. Flogging Molly (I don't hold the broken foot against them)
2. The Pogues
3. Sisters of Mercy
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (of the moment): (replacing "favorite" with "obsessively listened to")
1. "Training" from the Miracle soundtrack
2. "Song to the Siren" - This Mortal Coil
3. "Lay me Down" - Ashley MacIsaac
1. Puts up with my BS
2. Able to play extended games of "let's pretend" both in and out of a sexual context
3. Travels well and must roam the world frequently or go nuts
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE (in no particular order):
1. I am courageous
2. I haven't eaten yet today
3. I miss playing wing to Reed's center
1. Making Lili grin
2. sweet sweet internet, my rpg in particular
3. Elevator Games
1. Eat
2. Fuck
3. Tear this cast off, get on the ice and FUCKING PLAY
1. writer/surf bum
2. writer/stay at home mom
3. writer/graduate student
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION: (besides places I'm going already)
1. Scotland (Worldcon Glasgow, please)
2. Barcelona (you know who's fault)
3. Samoa
1. Madison
2. Heidi
3. Chastity
1. Have a beer with Tim Hunter
2. Get my kids through college
3. Publish something really, really, really good.
1. I fuck women.
2. I love porn
3. I enjoy smashing the shit out of things.
1. Chick flicks
2. Chick clothes
3. Incompetent with plumbing issues
1. Ralph Finnes
2. That cute blonde actor whose name I can't remember but he looks like
someone that should hang with Christian Bale (and your fault right back, Megan)
3. Jeff Friesen
1. Brian
2. Jack
3. Andrea
And, to add one:
1. Getting into the grad school of choice
2. Writing an actual straight-up lit fiction story that I need for #1 to happen
3. Affording everything.


Thanks to Miss M., for being a catalyst in a couple of ways for an entry long overdue.

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