So, Vancouver Folk Music Festival.

Dad (who had the physical tickets) got lost trying to find the site Friday afternoon, so we missed the (apparently traditional) Musqueam opening and greetings, which this year were expanded to include a performance by a group of First Nations women including Ferron welcoming the festival community to the place that used to be Ee'yullmough, now Jericho Beach Park. Missed a chunk of the first mainstage act (Mokoomba) too, but got to see (total cutiepies!) Geomungo Factory perform "Freebird" on traditional Korean instruments at one of the evening side stages, so that was pretty cool. Other than that, Friday wasn't too eventful (the festival, anyway; earlier in the day I'd gone walking up West 4th with the intention of wandering the Endowment Lands all afternoon but found somebody's UBC staff ID on the sidewalk so kept going most of the way to the university to return it--ended up giving it to someone in the Endowment Lands office who said she'd call the university lost'n'found and get it back to the owner, before taking EL trails down to the beach to get back to the hostel).

Saturday was an excellent day for social conscience music, from drizzly morning Leonard Sumner solo concert, to "Rabble Rousers" workshop (Grievous Angels, Frank Yamma, David Rovics--who did this fantastic song "I'm a Better Anarchist Than You"--and ex-Saw Doctors Leo Moran and Anthony Thistlethwaite), to Pete Seeger tribute workshop (fun fact: it's VFMF tradition that a bunch of BC unions sponsor a Saturday afternoon workshop on the Utah Phillips Memorial Stage--aka Stage 2--and this was 2014's; huge audience for this one, both for theme and for the fact Joan Baez was supposed to be there--she had to cancel for medical reasons, alas, but we still got Eliza Gilkyson, Alejandro Escovedo, ought-to-be-legendary Josh White Jr, and Scottish singer-songwriter Karine Polwart, who I'll return to in a bit), to "CountryFolk" workshop (Sumner, Amanda Anne Platt of The Honeycutters, Suzie Vinnick, who told an adorable story about her dad turning a sweet cowboy ballad into a rousing shoutalong--"leather!", and Roger Knox with Jon Langford and Jean Cook, who I'll also return to; I got there just in time to hear Langford explain his and Knox's country-folk credentials: "Roger's from New South Wales, I'm from old south Wales, we're both from the south, we play country music"), to "Power in Song" (Polwart, Rovics, Yamma, and Ashleigh Flynn, though I'm obliged to admit that I napped through most of this one), to Knox-with-Langford-and-Cook solo, and right on into mainstage.

Baez's cancellation meant they had to do some shuffling: Noura Mint Seymali got moved to closer, Escovedo and the Sensitive Boys stayed where scheduled, and Karine Polwart got to take the sunset slot. She ended up one of the first artists at the festival to run out of stock at the merch tent, and frankly I'm not surprised: she's a beautiful, wistful voice and a captivating storyteller. One story she told a few times over the weekend to introduce her song "King of Birds" starts with a dedication to the Occupy movement, who had their London basecamp at St. Paul's Cathedral. the story of the king of birds, paraphrased from Polwart's stage banter )

Saturday's also the day I won the argument with my dad that started the night before when he expected me to agree with him that Leonard Sumner's mainstage tweener (which I didn't hear because I was off exploring the site or something) was terrible and that he had no talent, with the specific accusation that Sumner was "all message, no music". I did not agree, and asserted that Dad not liking rap or First Nations music had no bearing on the talent of people who make that. He backed down, grumblingly, and turned to his program, telling me where he planned to be at what time the next day and how much he was looking forward to Grievous Angels. Early Saturday evening we small-talked where we'd been all day; I'd gone to Sumner's concert and we'd both been at "Rabble Rousers", and I was able to press him on the false non-equivalency he'd constructed between Sumner and the Angels regarding their respective message:music ratios until he admitted that the issue was in his subjective taste rather than their objective talent (nothing against the Angels, I liked them a lot, but you can hardly accuse Charlie Angus of being mellifluous). Dad now claims he was referring to the old lineup, with a female vocalist, when he praised the Angels, but he didn't say that and he bought a bunch of David Rovics CDs, so.

The first session I really attended on Sunday (flitted around a bit during the first time block, a song here and two there) continued and condensed Saturday's themes in a really interesting way. Titled "The People, United . . .", it drew together a crew of familiar faces--Grievous Angels, Roger Knox with Jon Langford and Jean Cook, Frank Yamma with David Bridie, and Leonard Sumner--plus Iskwew Singers, who I knew slightly from last year's Edmonton Folk Festival. Every person on that stage was either indigenous (Australian Aborigine or Canadian First Nations) or working as an advocate for indigenous people (or an indigenous person): Bridie and Langford were at this festival mostly as supporting players for Yamma and Knox, respectively, and had only one concert block each for their own material (and how weird-cool is it that are two Aboriginal men, from different parts of Australia, performing different styles of music, but each accompanied by a whitefella using his higher music industry profile to draw attention to their work, playing the Canadian folk festival circuit at the same time?), Angels' frontman Charlie Angus took a break from music to help his neighbours organize roadblocks and is now the NDP MP for the enormous northern Ontario riding of Timmins-James Bay). It was . . . kind of intense, actually. Tense excited energy swirling through patches of (rather large) audience, nurtured by the perfect kind of cloudy sky; collisions of well-meaning white Canadian awkwardness around racial Others and activated activist potential surging. There were jokes (Sumner: "I never really get to play with a full band behind me. Thanks, Grievous Angels." Angus: "Yeah, we're gonna have to charge you for that." Sumner: "Great! Then I'll charge you rent for that land you're living on!") and the laughter was enthusiastic and sour--but hey, good things aren't necessarily comfortable.

Not many other standout events on Sunday--met up with a high school friend, finished the cardigan I'd been re-knitting, heard Jon Langford play some of his own stuff--up until the Mary Lambert thing. Read more... )
That sucked and it made me go sit under a tree in a place with no people for an hour.

As an event the fest was pretty relaxed, overall. Chock full of lesbians, as previously mentioned--queer women and folk festivals go together like ginger and lemon anyway but this one was really owned. Silver-haired Birkenstock womyn who pioneered the Left Coast tofu cabin lifestyle, glitter-covered babydykes fused together in sickening teenage love, two-mama partnerships doting on cross-racially adopted babies, matched sets of waistcoated butch people . . . It was kinda nice, actually, apart from the "do I look gay enough?" stress I always get around capital-L-esbians when my head's not shaved. Mostly white people but by less of a margin, I think, than other festivals, which makes sense for Vancouver--though it's also, fortunately, a trend across the board, that the population of "folk" attending these festivals is opening up the same way "folk" music is, albeit laggingly. At least that's my hopeful perception, comparing festivals I've been to recently with those of my childhood, where the only people of colour I can remember seeing were either on stage or behind a concession counter. I could make other observations comparing particular aspects of this festival to particular aspects of others but I think this post is long enough already.

(to be followed by a hopefully shorter thing about my one-day jaunt to the Calgary Folk Music Festival and a playlist of new-to-me, and some rediscovered-by-me, musics)
Hello from the southern tip of Vancouver Island!

I'm at Dad's house, which is a great little house but emotionally weird because it's full of things, sometimes really peculiar things, from our old house in Winnipeg (knick-knacks, art, books, furniture, the microwave). I was surprised that there was no wifi at the VFMF and the access I've had from other places (the hostel then the ferry, basically) has been slow or crashy or abruptly required me to reconnect to the network at irregular intervals, so I've been able to receive email and tweet and check weather and download offline transit map apps and not a whole lot else. I think I've skimmed back through all the new stuff on dreamwidth, not even gonna attempt to do the same with tumblr.

The festival was mostly really good but ended on a sour note because Mary Lambert's set and specifically the two spoken word pieces she did were really triggering for me (and also, somewhat relatedly, really frustrating) and I haven't yet entirely stabilised from that. It also differed from other festivals I've been to in a number of ways, some positive (real prominent emphasis on making the event more accessible for people with physical disabilities, NO MOSQUITOES, beer tent less of a priority/holy shrine for both guests and organizers), most neutral (in addition to a small artisan village inside the festival site they have a slew of vendors in a crowded narrow strip along the edge of the site that is open to the public, crowd totally saturated with lesbians) or negative (they do not even pretend to check bags for weapons, intoxicants, or breakable glass--though I guess that's actually less annoying than festivals like Winnipeg or Edmonton where the bag check is very obviously only a pretense? and might somewhat account for the more relaxed reverence for the drinking cathedral?--and the site is just ridiculously easy to sneak into, about a sixth of the vendors in the public bazaar are selling cannabis-related merchandise, geese). Will try to say more about the good stuff especially (music, frex) later tonight or tomorrow after I get my allowed visit with Mum.

PS I fixed the bad html in the last post, let me know if I missed something.
So, apart from the need-a-roommate problem (which . . . might actually be solved now? I don't want to say anything that sounds certain until it is, but there's a measuring tape involved now and I think that's a good sign), things are mostly pretty sweet here. I mean there's an overwhelming amount of stuff going on this month, but on the whole it's positive stuff, and this is a lot of words about some of it:

I'm going to accounting school! )

a wedding (not mine) and a cheesecake )

a folk festival )

another folk festival and geographically related adventures )
I have just introduced my staying-roommate (and, accidentally, some of our neighbours, including one very sweet dog-walker) to the magic of smashing eggs on the street--and now I'm maybe introducing you? If you haven't tried it, do. It's great. Eggs're cheaper and more biodegradable than dishes, and I keep expired eggs in a carton at the back of the fridge for this purpose so I usually have them on hand. Mostly I try to throw them at a sewer grate but unless you're standing right above it and just dropping them the bits will go everywhere (she types as she picks bits of shell off her glasses and out of her cleavage). Screaming is optional but attracts more attention.

I needed to smash eggs because we're looking for another roommate for August and haven't found one yet, which wouldn't be a big deal except I'm getting on a plane on Wednesday and I won't be back until the 30th, and I really, really want to have this situation sorted out before I go. Smashing eggs doesn't (probably) do much to attract roommates, but it's good for transforming scared nervous energy into pumped nervous energy, and, just after we finished with eggs and I started typing this, I got an email from one of the people who came by today (who left so abruptly I was sure we'd done something to turn her right off) saying she is maybe still interested, depending on how she likes the places she's looking at tomorrow, so there is hope yet that I will not be dragging these jitters with me to BC?

(and then I apparently forgot to actually post this last night before I went to sleep.)
Welp. I've paid the ontariocolleges.ca application fee and requested the necessary undergrad transcript (pleased with myself both for keeping my undergrad student ID in a relatively logical place and for correctly guessmembering my student number without consulting it!). Doesn't mean I can't chicken out but having put money and paperwork into this means the plan's officially in motion. Now I wait for the transcript to be received and vetted and for the college to send my offer of admission.

In the meantime, I'm still soliciting fic prompts over at my last post, and all the commentfic there plus one of the several previously on-pause stories are now up on AO3.

Um.

That's it?

Ooh, important ETA: I'm pretty sure the roommate's cat is involved in a blood feud with one of my houseplants. I water any other plant in the apartment and the cat could not give a shit; I water the one she chews on and she's up in my face annoyed that I'm giving succor to the enemy.
theleaveswant: text "make something beautiful" on battered cardboard sign in red, black, and white (Lady Catelyn)
( May. 24th, 2014 07:30 pm)
Today the mysterious on-and-off nausea of the past few weeks is the most on it's been yet. I am sulky and mortal. I want to write fic and I have ideas but the word engine keeps stalling. I would like to try jolting it with prompts, so here are memes appropriated from tumblr and dreamwidth posts:

TFLN )

trope trope trope )

after the watershed )
theleaveswant: still from Captain America: The First Avenger; Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) looking over his shoulder & shield, snowy bg (Captain Adorable)
( Mar. 27th, 2014 09:00 pm)
I really want to take a few days and go somewhere, but am kind of limited in where and for how long I can afford to travel.
37 hours left to bid on this beautiful handknit shawl in your choice of colour. Current top bid is only $55, which is a ridiculous bargain for this kind of unique handmade art.
I am heading west for five days in June to attend the wedding of a dear friend. Airplane tickets are expensive. In order to reduce my travel debt I would like to auction off a Damask shawl (pattern by Kitman Figueroa), hand-knit by me using Cascade Heritage Silk (fingering weight, 85% superwash merino/15% mulberry silk--I'm willing to use another yarn, for example if the recipient is sensitive to wool or vegan or whatever, but this yarn is soft, smooth, shiny, excellent value, and known for fantastic stitch definition, and it should work beautifully for this project) in one of the following colours list ) because those are the ones we have in stock at work.

Bidding will start at $25 for the smallest version of the shawl, to cover my out-of-pocket for pattern and yarn; if it goes above $100 the winner will get to choose the small or medium size, if it goes above $200 the winner will get to choose small, medium, or large. Shipping is not included. Auction will remain open until noon EST on Friday, February 15th, 2013, and knitting will commence as soon as the transaction is complete.

To bid, simply reply to the last comment on the thread marked "bid here"; please post any other comments and questions in a new thread. Bidders who do not have Dreamwidth accounts, please identify yourselves in your comments so that I can keep track (any name you like, but please be consistent).

Please pass this info on to anyone who you think might be interested in a gorgeous, hand-knit, one-of-a-kind shawl for themselves or a loved one.

(I am also open to commissions, if you want me to knit you something else; please contact me for availability and cost estimates.)





KLANGALANGALANGALANGALANG

That's the bell, folks. This auction is now closed. Congratulations to our winner [personal profile] sabinetzin!
Now and then I'll read a story—a good one, often one where it's clear from the level and quality of detail in other places that the author has done research, made a serious effort to know whereof ze speaks—and I'll be sitting there, scrolling happily along, until one of the characters gets tattooed, and then *brake screech* Some minor or major inaccuracy will throw me out of the story, sometimes irretrievably. I have five tattoos myself now, so I'm moderately well-acquainted with the process, and I notice when somebody's Doing It Wrong (for example, describing the process—not the sensation—as “burning”, or talking about changing bandages on a tattoo that's still bleeding two weeks after it was applied).

I'm not sure why this in particular is such a peeve for me, when I let some other kinds of errors slide more easily, but it is. It bothers me even more in 'professional' media, where producers can reasonably be expected (by me, anyway) to pay somebody to make sure they're getting things right, and especially in cases where I know people involved in the creation process actually have tattoos and ought to know enough to correct any errors, because under circumstances like that I can't see any excuse for botching things as badly as they usually do. One friend I complained to about this suggested that the reason representations of tattooing in mainstream media are such a dog's breakfast is that producers don't want to be blamed for “encouraging” folks to get tattoos . . . except that they still show tattooing, and they usually mess up by making the process look a lot quicker, cleaner, and less painful than it actually is, so I suspect it's more to do with laziness/the ignorant assumption that they already know everything they need to about tattooing (and kink, and paganism, and so on) from copying other media depictions that also got it wrong.

Of course, there's not much I can do about mainstream media (at least not until the fannish proletariat seize control of the means of production and implement a utopian meritocracy—I mean . . . *cough*), and really not a lot I can do about fandom, either. What I can do is put my knowledge out there, somewhere it might be accessed by fan writers and others who care about getting the details right, and hope it'll come in handy when you sit down to write that story about Steve Rogers tagging along the day Darcy Lewis spends her first SHIELD paycheque making a start on her half-sleeve, gets captivated by the process and the flash on the walls and decides to have his old unit insignia inscribed over his heart, or the one where Annie Edison walks in on Abed Nadir in the shower and discovers the full-colour art deco shrine to Farscape covering his back and is understandably brimming with questions (somebody please make these happen).

Please note that I am speaking from personal experience here, as a middle-class white cis woman from central Canada who got her first tattoo at age 20 and collected four more from four artists at two studios in different Canadian cities over the next seven-and-a-half years; from accompanying friends to the shop when they got inked; from talking to other friends about tattooing; from hanging out for a while in the Tattooed Knitters & Crocheters board on Ravelry and a few other online spaces; and from wandering into a whole lot of body mod shops over the years to check them out as a potential client or just out of curiosity. Some parts of the tattooing experience that I describe below are pretty universal, while others are probably more particular to my own experience; if other folks want to chime in to discuss how this does or doesn't resonate with your tattooing experiences, or to fill in any of my gaping holes of ignorance (for example home tattooing using improvised materials, cover-ups, or tattoo removal), that'd be hunky-dory. Finally, I'd like to note that this is not so much an essay as it is a bunch of loosely connected, theoretically factual statements.

Preparation )

Perforation )

Aftercare )

Colour Plates (a few of which contain small amounts of human blood) )
totally non-compulsory wishlist meme for people wot like granting and/or making wishes )

ETA: I thought of another thing!
8. A less-broken desk chair. This one is about one more missing screw away from outright dangerous.

I'm not posting my contact details in a public post but if you need my physical or paypal address you can PM me.


Five Acts Meme (Round Seven)
rules )
my requests )
theleaveswant: text "make something beautiful" on battered cardboard sign in red, black, and white (bad decision dinosaur)
( Jan. 10th, 2012 11:05 pm)
Ugh, last week. Don't even ask. (Seriously, don't.)

* Snowflake challenge, Days 3-10 )

* Stolen from [personal profile] commodorified, because fun.
Pick up the nearest book to you.
Turn to page 45.
The first sentence describes your sex life in 2012.

I am not unusually surrounded by bookpiles so grabbed either the topmost or the most protuberant of the three closest, which were:
Come, Thou Tortoise by Jennifer Grant: "Here is something to do if you are unslept and have a ponytail: Bring that ponytail around under your nose like a moustache."
Pretty in Punk: 25 Punk, Rock, and Goth Knitting Patterns by Alyce Benevides and Jaqueline Milles with photos by Rob Benevides: [full-page photograph of a young white woman with downcast eyes crouching gargoyle-fashion on what appears to be a rooftop in front of a background of industrial twilight (low sun, orange sky, tattered clouds, and shabby buildings) wearing a black leather aviator's cap with goggles, silver eye makeup, spiked collar with ring, black fabric bat wings, layered fishnets and ripped pantyhose, bikerish boots, and the featured knitting pattern, a "cobweb-inspired" "loose-knit tight-fit holey jumper" called "Goth Girl", over a black tank top]
and
The Slave by Laura Antoniou: "'Now,' he said, when she returned, 'you're in serious trouble.'"

* More Joy Day is coming up on Thursday. I have some ideas about what I'm going to do.

* Handmade meme people (you remember who you are?) who have not already PMed me with your addresses, please do so soon. I have or shortly will have stuff to mail you.
Oh, /o\ .

There are so many things I've wanted to post about but haven't allowed myself to sit down and write, and some of them may still get posted evenutally but today there is only one thing I can talk about, because today has gone like this:

*wake up*
*evict cat from comfy perch on my bladder*
*go to the bathroom and have a shower*
*turn on the computer and read about Jack Layton's passing*
*cry forever*

You guuuuuuys I am so sad and so scared and my heart is breaking for all of us but especially for Olivia and his family and then I read the goodbye letter he wrote two days ago and I can't, I just can't. The sun is beaming bright outside but it feels like a mockery. I never met him personally but I know a lot of people here in Ontario who did and who confidently attest that he walked the walk he talked. I'm going to the gathering at City Hall at 4pm if I can manage to stumble my way there through the blur of my tears, and put my hope in the axiom about shared pain etc.

As [personal profile] zingerella said earlier today in another forum, "I've said fairly often that the best friends are the ones who show you your better self--the parts of you that are stronger, braver, more honest, kinder, more generous--and help you to be that person all the time. By that metric, I think Jack Layton was a pretty good friend for a country to have."
You know this meme:
1. Reply to this post and I'll assign you a letter.
2. List 5 songs that start with that letter.
3. Post them to your journal with these instructions.

[personal profile] curgoth gave me the letter "T"

I delayed a bit on posting this, given that apparently at least one of the people I didn't realize was still reading my journal(s) thinks I yammer about politics (or particular political issues) far too much. I am willing to have that conversation but not here and not now (yes, passive-aggressive statement is passive-aggressive). For now, this is my journal and I will post what I want and given the situation that I am living just blocks west of, I feel this is plenty appropriate. Here's the Three Times Too Long, Too Political playlist: )
I can figure out how to upload all files in a .zip, if there's a desire. zips ahoy! I hope. Somebody lemme know if that worked?
This might be my last or second-last post to this LJ that isn't cross-posted from Dreamwidth. I'm going to be shifting over soon, anyway; I just wanted to get this out of my saved drafts pile first.

You may or may not recall that on January 26th of last year I posted a meme promising to Make Stuff for anybody who commented. The one year time span has come and gone. I never forgot about it, though I did get thoroughly sidetracked several times. I still intend to fulfill my promises, as soon as I'm able; this is an update on my progress.
[livejournal.com profile] pyroclasticgrub: I think you already know I was knitting you a vest. I had mostly finished it this fall, then ran out of yarn, and because the yarn I'm using was thrifted and old and I don't know where it came from, I cannot buy more. I've tried it on (we have pretty similar circumferences, I think?) and there seems to be a lot of positive ease, so I'm going to try frogging and restarting it with fewer stitches. I have a few other projects with stricter time limits to finish first.
[livejournal.com profile] prairiedaun: I had a lot of trouble deciding what to do for you. You can do your own knitting and many other crafts, you're good at finding music, you cook and bake, I don't know what your current fandoms are. I settled on designing a hat in your honour. Not sure it's the kind of thing you'd wear, but I hope you'll enjoy the premise at least. I'll put the pattern on Ravelry when I'm done. I'll probably donate the first prototype as a raffle prize for a pet rescue fundraiser coming up in a couple of weeks in Ottawa.
[livejournal.com profile] johnnypurple: A mix! This one has actually been technically finished for ages, aside from some minor picking and poking. It's big (30 tracks) and maybe a little weird; it started with me looking for a theme to work around and deciding somewhat arbitrarily to use only Canadian artists, and then it mutated into this big thing about Canadian identity, or my experience of living in a country with A Certain Reputation and trying to reconcile (or not) my love for so many of the people and places and words and ideas and bits of art that get flagged "Canadian" (willingly or nay) or that entangle in the rhizomatic tendrils of my "Canadian" experiences, with all the things I hate about that Reputation and about the realities of actually living here (many of which, such as sabotaging climate talks in Copenhagen, sabotaging post-secondary funding especially for social science and humanities students, denying Canada's history of colonialism, denying Canada's abuse of Afghan detainees, and proroguing parliament AGAIN to avoid talking about this stuff at least until the fucking wasteful destructive celebration of nationalism known euphemistically as the 2010 Vancouver-Whistler Olympic games are over, can be credited to the Harper administration's reign of bullshit; others, like performing pelvic exams on unconscious surgery patients without our knowledge or consent are less new [this example is pretty new to public awareness] but still fucking GROSS). At different points the playlist was much longer (but I don't need to include songs from every Canadian artist I kinda like) or much more angrily political (but that's hijacking, and there are better fora); I've tried to tame it down to artists or tracks I'm really fond of right now and which I feel stand out in some particular way, and use the Canadian identity issues mostly as a substrate. I'm posting it for everybody to enjoy, although I do especially hope that you specifically, [livejournal.com profile] johnnypurple, find some tracks or artists really warm you (or cool you, or whatever you need most this week). My title for the project is "A Case of You".

music and stories )

ETA: BONUS TRACK! This totally should have been on the list, except that I hadn't listened to the album all the way through before I posted:
The Cliks (Toronto), We Are The Wolverines
We all come from the wheel and fire
We are, we are, we are the wolverines
Burning in your heart's desire
We are, we are, we are the wolverines

Because the Cliks are awesome and Lucas Silveira is a rock'n'roll god in the ascendant phase. Because Wolverine is a strange kind of Canadian icon even when he's played by an Australian in American movies (comic books do weird things to geography--cities, worlds, bodies, plausibilities). Because the first year I volunteered at the Winnipeg Folk Festival I had a conversation with Billy fucking Bragg about how he hadn't been a very good goatherd (no joke) and he hypothesized that in Canada wolverines would be the dominant menace re: disinterring livestock, rather than foxes which were the problem where he'd worked (they're not). Because the wolverine at the Assiniboine Park Zoo in Winnipeg is a total camwhore. Because the song is sexy and somehow inspiring even if I'm not sure I quite get it. Wolverines!
Today is the birthday of Miss Amanda Fucking Palmer, who has requested that people who love her mark the occasion by sharing this love (and her music) with someone who has not yet discovered her utter fabulosity. I know many of you are already on the AFP trolley (e.g. [livejournal.com profile] liketheroad, [livejournal.com profile] northbard, [livejournal.com profile] tormenta, [livejournal.com profile] curgoth and [livejournal.com profile] mycrazyhair, because we were all at her show at the Mod Club five months ago), but for those who are not: Amanda Palmer emerged from the forehead of the goddess Durga fully-formed, of terrible countenance, armed with sword and noose, clad in a tiger's skin and a garland of skulls, filling the sky with her roars, falling upon impetuously and slaughtering the asuras of the army of Raktabija and killing this great demon and enemy of the devas by sucking the blood from his body. Pleased with her victory, she then danced upon the field of battle. Wait, that's Kali, isn't it? Easy to get them mixed up, some days.

Amanda Palmer is one half (with Brian Viglione) of The Dresden Dolls, co-discoverer (with Jason Webley) of Evelyn Evelyn, and has also recently released a solo album (the affiliated book, featuring many pictures of dead!Amanda by many photographers plus stories by Neil Gaiman, is now available for pre-order). She is a talented song writer, a phenomenal live performer, and a very weird person whom I would snog without hesitation. You should all definitely check out her work. To help you with that, I have embedded some informative videos&stuff (see her website and youtube channel for LOTS more) starting with the new and SO FANTASTIC video for "What's the Use of Wond'rin'?":



more awesome right this way )

Not related to Amanda Palmer: I handed in a draft of my thesis proposal. It's too long and I forgot to include some stuff and overall I kinda hate it, so I'm glad it's just a draft. Now I need to finish reading Tom Boellstorff's The Gay Archipelago: Sexuality and Nation in Indonesia, which is luckily a very good book so far, so I can co-facilitate discussion on it on Monday. And write the rest of my conference paper for next Friday, and the one the week after that. And possibly get a haircut or pick up some dye (I'm feeling scruffy).
A while ago I suggested that the members and supporters of the Beta Colony Stitch&Bitch (and anyone else who wants to be nice) might make a collective donation to Heifer International (thinking specifically that we could pool for a
knitting basket) . . . and then forgot to actually organize anything. I'll happily act as treasurer for this endeavour, if folks want to contact me (comment, lj message, facebook, email) with the value for their contributions, though I don't have to be the one to actually make the donation if somebody else needs the tax credit.
.

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theleaveswant: text "make something beautiful" on battered cardboard sign in red, black, and white (Default)
roses, bruises, 'bout your shoulders

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