30 December 2006

The Glorious and Scathingly Brilliant Who.

Mr. (Tom) Baker of course.
Presently 70 and living in Tunbridge Wells.
Hear him sing "How Soon is Now" here.

And whilst listening, read below for the pithy pleasures he entertained me with this evening. Be still my enamoured (although un-bescarfed) neck.

the Doctor (the Real one):
i've been tied to pillars by better men than you, captain.

good looks are no substitute for a sound character.

Bafflegab, my dear!

It's an economic miracle, of course it's wrong.

His compatriots:
do you mean they slammed him to the wall with "good vibrations"?

I'm concentrating on the doctor's mind, don't disturb me.

And the arch villains, occasionally rife with cleverness themselves. (Although not quite so dreamy. They don't wear the scarf, after all.)

you dare to lay the rotting fruits of your own incompetence at my door?

your manner appeals only to the homicidal side of my nature.

by the left frontal lobe of the fiery demon, Fibuli!


(and this from the New Who)
go canoodle her spoon, or whatever it is you British do.

voice-mail dooms us all.

28 December 2006

assam and "Little Miss Disaster"

tea and the Damned.
What a Perfect way to start the morning.
Merci bien 073666.

one night stands.

i have of course told everyone who will listen about my latest little book project, rendering the whole idea banal and done with at best, but regardless, here is one of the drawings from my "one-night stands" book, which will be launching with my art window at Pages in January 2007. the project has been...highly enjoyable.

27 December 2006


Seeing as it is a spiritual time of year, i cast about for a bit of relevant reading yesterday, and re-introduced myself to some basic thoughts on magic, courtesy of Mr. Grant (thumpa thumpa) Morrison, of Invisibles fame.
He lays out his basic priniciples of sigil-making here; stuff which I paid A Whole Lot of attention to ( I went down to DisinfoCon in New York in 2000, specifically to hear Morrison speak.)
GM talks about two kinds of magic in his PopMagic manifesto (and in Pop Magic part two). There is your basic sigil-making-focusing-your-will stuff, and then there is what he calls "narrative hypersigils". For him, this was The Invisibles. Basically the man drew himself into a comic book existence to parallel one he wanted to see for himself.

Both are very similiar to principles of living well or being ones real self, it seems to me. Namely, one has to make a decision, strip it down to the essentials necessary for said decision to manifest itself, and then stop thinking about said decision and let the will run its course.

And if necessary, fake it 'til you make it.

I've struggle with this. I am an empiricist, and I trust the reality of what I see with my own eyes. I trust facts. I'm too aware of "faking" to do it well.
I have based my ideas of "truth" on these facts for a long long time, except for those unfortunate times when my emotions get in the way. More and more I am coming to understand that honesty means Squat when there is more than one person involved. There are as many kinds of honesty as there are people in the universe.

Lately I've been pondering the fact that the liars might be more trustworthy than those who tell "the truth".
When you listen to someone's lie, you listen to what they need/want/aspire too, unassailed by illusions of morality, insecurity, or responsibility to others. This, I admit, is dangerous. But everything in the right context, it seems to me.

a small piece of wisdom (possibly misquoted) from Mark Twain

"History doesn't repeat itself, it rhymes."

and what did i get for Christmas?

a tin monkey who solves problems with his feet and his groin.
I would say i was kidding.
but i'm not.
i Love it.

clever little me.

well, i didn't make too many gifts this christmas, and i haven't yet given them all to their recipients, so some remain unspoken of. I did knit a pair of very lumpy armwarmers for one friend ("you gave her your time and your love! R said. ah yes, that is my time and love, crooked and lumpy, with strings hanging out everywhere.) gave a drawing from the past to another friend (said friend has suggested I should refer to my friends as numbers, so as to avoid privacy issues. so, to friend 163478, i gave a piece of history), and i...well, you will have to re-visit, dear readers if you want to know what friend 231079 got for Christmas.
But back to my armwarmers, I did redeem myself to their recipient with these what I thought to be rather clever t-shirt transfers, made by scanning scrabble letters into funny little tidbits relevant to their recipients. The first two for a couple dedicated to most persistent scrabble challenging, the third for a fellow fan of Jeannette Winterson's powerbook ("carbon-based primitive in a silicon world"), and for myself, 'coz i had some extra transfer paper, the last most timely warning.

"new you"

a message from above that little ad men tapped in tin onto the billboard across the street over the course of today. of course, from the angle I took the photo, the "you" is obscured. sigh.

24 December 2006


Having just posted nudey photos of my work cohorts (I got permission from them, dear reader(s)), i feel there can be no more apt time to move quite to the other end of the spectrum to rant endlessly about a rather uncomfortable situation I find myself in frequently these days, with nary a clear solution.

I work more than one job, dear reader(s), and my other place of employment finds most of my colleagues fairly consistently clothed. This is a great relief to me, specifically in the case of one gentlemen I occasionally find myself working alongside, who pays FAR TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO MY PERSONAL LIFE. FAR TOO MUCH.
It began sometime back with your average work chatter, what do you do, where do you live, etc etc. Not unusual. From most people, this kind of chatter I find both welcome and immensely edifying.
However, in this case, things graduated to a point where this gentleman, a self-confessed illiterate when it comes to computers, was reading my (previous) blog daily and visiting my (rarely changed) website regularly (or so it seemed, judging from the comments about it) At work he would comment on events in my life back to me in greater detail than I ever outlined in this silly cyber-preoccupation of mine.
I began to realize that something one-sided was going on, but how does one stop being amicable, with someone who is being "kind" and "considerate", by most peoples judgement?
When I printed my first comic, and threw away a badly coloured one, this man protested, grabbing the book and saying he would like to keep it, despite already owning a copy of the completed book. At the time I was indifferent to the matter.
A month or so later he confessed that every time he goes to one of the bookstores that carries them in the city, he buys a copy, so now I no longer know if my books are actually selling, or if they are piling up in this man's personal environs.
These days I cannot enter the room without being leered at, and somehow such things as orange juice appear for me on the lunch table when I'm sick, despite NOT asking for it, despite expressly insisting that I am not in need of anything.

A month ago I moved house. This gentleman has asked me where I live THREE times now. Specifically. He isn't content with "the west end" or any response like that. And he isn't content with "I moved TO A DIFFERENT ADDRESS" either.
When male friends visit me at work, there is an impromptu quiz about who they are, what they do, "my, (they are) handsome" etc etc.

For a long time I have tried to accomodate these questions with pleasant vaguaries, in the interest of keeping the peace (read: being passive agressive). This has been, of course, completely ineffectual.

My next step was to begin pointing out to this man that he pays far too much attention to my personal life. This was greeted with a chuckle on his behalf, along with some vage sort of disclaimer.

Finally, the other day, when he mentioned that he had read about a friend of mine in the latest uTOpia book (about culture and the arts in Toronto), identifying her by her first name, as if she was an acquaintance of his, i announced that she is NOT his friend, and HE REALLY PAYS FAR TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO MY PERSONAL LIFE.
His retort? "well, she's in (the book) for anyone to read about"
How do I argue this, dear reader(s)? Of course, nothing about her relationship with me is "in the book", but he remains staunchly oblivious to the inference that HE HAS CROSSED EVERY RESPECTABLE BOUNDARY ONE CAN CROSS WITH A COMPLETE STRANGER whose only shared connection is the workplace lunch table.

Now, all of this seems to imply a simple solution, non? Keep Away. Plain and simple. This man, rife with good intentions as he sees them (and they no doubt are), has absolutely NO intention of listening to my complete lack of interest in him, or my increasing discomfort with being constantly waylaid with attentions that even my ex-boyfriends wouldn't indulge in.

Now here, dear reader(s) is the problem. This gentlemen runs two of the machines I need to use to do my own book projects. And, try as I might, I cannot get him or anyone to teach me how to use them INDEPENDENTLY if I decide to use them off my own accord, it is pointed out that I am doing a far from perfect job, and this gentleman inevitably steps in to improve on it, Completely Ignoring my entreaty that I am not in fact Interested in doing a perfect job, I am interested in doing the project on my own. I have attempted to negotiate these jobs in trade, since the gentleman has an affection for scotch, but now my offer of compensation to ensure that the arrangement is seen as a business one is greeted with a voluble tirade that he WILL NOT help me if i purchase him anything of the sort.

The difficult thing is, I need to use the machines, I need help using them (at the moment) I am grateful for the help. These projects are SO important to me. I need to make the books. There isn't a question here. That is a mutual understanding. Unfortunately.

Good intentions, ladies and gentlemen.
"Good Intentions".

What's a girl to do?