vr_trakowski: (Default)
With deep apologies to Rick Nielsen. 

Read more... )
vr_trakowski: (hats)
Most of the time, when my brain presents me with an OC, they're human, or nearly so.  I did get a dragon some years ago, but he sort of evolved around the concept. 

Last night, though, I was gifted a new one, complete with husband, career, and really excellent name.  She's a macaw. 

The trouble is, I have no idea what to do with her.  She didn't come with a plotline... 

vr_trakowski: (pages)

So I realized recently that in some forty years of being a fan of Anne McCaffrey*, I had somehow never read The Kilternan Legacy.  This was mostly because I’d never actually seen a copy; like Ring of Fear† and The Mark of Merlin‡, I had to order it specially. 

It’s like The Lady/The Carradyne Touch more than any of her other non-SF/F novels, but considerably less evolved.  It does have some very interesting characters, especially both sets of twins; it wavers on the brink of feminism all the way through, and then throws it all out the window at almost the last page with a really ugly few lines about how...sometimes...beating one’s wife is a good thing.  I mean, what the everloving fuck, Lady Anne? 

However, much as I did enjoy most of the book, the endpapers are almost as interesting.  I picked up a first edition from 1975 (honestly, I’m surprised it made it out of one printing) and it has ads in the back for other books from Dell§.  Including Marathon Man, “Soon to be a major motion picture from Paramount”, and Eagle in the Sky, “Not since THE OTHER SIDE OF MIDNIGHT has there come along such a powerful novel of passion, plunging violence and triumphant love!” [sic] (Never heard of it.) 

There’s also a list of bestsellers, of whose authors I mostly have heard, if not all the titles (I had no idea Mae West wrote fiction, but that’s on me).  The list of nonfiction sounds very insignificant...except for one. 

I am now aware of the book James Dean, The Mutant King

Apparently it’s a cult classic; never having had any interest in James Dean, I was not aware of the book. 

But that title.  I can’t imagine picking that one up and being anything but disappointed that it’s not, in fact, a novel.  Because, come on.  Nothing about the man’s life can possibly be as interesting as the possibilities presented for a raring story about a former movie actor turned post-apocalyptic tyrant, leading his army of twisted A-bomb survivors in a rampage of conquest across a war-torn landscape!  

Oh, right, it’s 1975.  Better throw in something about population density and ecological collapse while we’re at it...❣   

___________________________________________

*Yes, there’s a lot of issues with her writing.  Trust me, I know. 

Ring of Fear dates from when she was writing Gothic novels, and apparently this one was supposed to be soft-core porn?  o_O  Let’s just say I do not recommend it.  At all. 

The Mark of Merlin, on the other hand, is a surprising amount of fun for a murder mystery.  It’ll still break your heart, though. 

§This is even more fun with books dating from the 1920s or earlier.  There are pages and pages of other books from the publisher, and you won’t have heard of any of them.  Insert profound remarks on the ephemerality of art in this modern age, etc. 

❣Don’t start.  I still own a copy of The Kids’ Whole Future Catalog.  Complete with a chapter on holograms and a recipe for making chocolate-chip earthworm cookies. 

vr_trakowski: (pages)
I just spent a few hours re-reading All Creatures Great and Small, a book I devoured repeatedly as a child but probably haven't read in a quarter-century.  It was interesting to see what bits I remembered, though it has a different flavor when one is aware that it is largely fiction (eight-year-old me had no idea). 

The series is one of the reasons I spent so many years dreaming of becoming a veterinarian, even though a lot of it qualifies as horror stories.  It's strange to think that if I'd never picked it up my high school and college years might have been very different. 

What struck me the most this round, however, was the time.  When I first read the books, the technologies, the medicine, the environment were only forty years in the past.  Old-fashioned, but not ancient. 

Now, these stories are almost a century old. 

It's a very odd thought.  They don't feel that old to me, because they've been part of my mind's tapestry for most of my life.  But to a new reader, it would be different.  A hundred years ago, there was a young vet working in Yorkshire...   

But the hills are still there. 

vr_trakowski: (Advent wreath)
Something really nice happened this week. 

Cut for backstory )

Eleven months out of the year, my music tends towards gaming and movie soundtracks, instrumental piano, and songs in non-Romance languages.**  But as soon as Thanksgiving dinner is over, I break out the Christmas music.  At this point, my collection is over five days' worth of songs, more gigabytes than my laptop can hold. 

I tend to pick up holiday albums by artists I never listen to otherwise.  But it took me an embarrassingly long time to wonder if Cleo Laine and John Dankworth had done a Christmas collection. 

As it happened, they did, back in 1999.  It appears to have had a fairly limited release and it isn't widely available now.  But I found a seller who had at it a reasonable price, and this year I had the money. 

It arrived this week, and I opened it up - case intact, CD booklet in excellent shape...except for the marker scrawl on the cover. 

It's autographed. 

Dame Cleo's signature on the front.  Sir John's inside.  The seller didn't mention that part. 

I can't wait to listen.  :D 


*My parents only had so many records, and a lot of her early stuff has not yet made it to CD.  And I don't have a record player. 

**I can't understand a word of them, so the lyrics aren't distracting. 

vr_trakowski: (pages)
NOTE: Due to fuckery on the part of Weebly, I have removed the site.  Eventually I will get the stories up again, probably at AO3.   

Active:
Tumblr
Bluesky
Archive of Our Own

Moribund:
Mastodon - @vrtrakowski@mastodon.social
Instagram - killed it, too much Zuck muck
Pillowfort

Fanfiction.net
Twitter
Discord - VR Trakowski

Other:
Weebly (fanfic)
Neocities (fanfic), still mulling it over
Hive - VRTrakowski nope

A search of my username will bring up others, but most of those are defunct. 

vr_trakowski: (Default)
Well, phooey.  

A few years ago I created a personal site on Weebly to host my fanfic, including stuff that - for a variety of reasons - I haven’t put up on AO3 (and some of which is not currently posted elsewhere).  It’s in no way transactional, but Weebly is suddenly requiring that I create a Square account to continue to use their service.  

I don’t want a Square account.  I don’t need a Square account.  I get Weebly’s point - its focus is small business sites - but I have no intention of complying.  I’m not giving Square my information just so I can still post fic.  Especially since it would have to be my IRL info, not my pseudonym.  

However, that means that my Weebly pages are, at best, frozen.  I can’t add anything more (not that I was, I’m way behind on updates).  I don’t think it was getting many hits, but...now what?  

Personal fanfic sites aren’t really a thing any longer.  I could go the DIY route - buy a domain name and some hosting and create pages from scratch.  They would be very simple, but I could do it.  Eventually.  

I don’t know of any hosted system that’s set up for this kind of thing.  I have an old WordPress account, but that’s a blogging model.  Ditto Dreamwidth.  

The other option, I suppose, would be to create a separate AO3 account and put everything else there.  I know about pseuds, but using a pseud lists everything in the same place, and the reasons I’ve kept some stuff off of AO3 means I don’t want to jumble everything together.  I’m not trying to conceal authorship - most of it’s on FF.net anyway - some of it’s just not very good.  Among other things.  

Probably there isn’t a good solution.  *bleah*  

vr_trakowski: (Default)
Given my age, I should have spent my adolescence watching MTV, but for a number of reasons that’s not what happened.  ‘80s rock is sort of a background substrate in my memories, but I didn’t deliberately listen to any of it until relatively recently.  

So skipping semi-randomly through YouTube videos is a weirdly amusing pastime when I’m in the right mood, evoking wisps of nostalgia here and there through sheer exposure.  The music video as an art form is not something I’m terribly familiar with.  

That said, the Blondie video of “Heart of Glass” could not look more uncomfortable if they tried.  It’s like nobody knows what they’re doing, and they have zero enthusiasm for it.  It’s downright comical, but I don’t think that’s what they were going for... 
vr_trakowski: (Default)

I am so bored. 

I don’t seem to have a fever any more but feeding the cats left me so tired I had to lie down for a bit.  My ribs and spine ache because I’ve been sitting too much, but frankly I’m afraid to go out for a walk. 

My concentration is shot; after about fifteen minutes of anything I need to close my eyes and lean back for a while.  Water hurts my throat so I’m living off of sweet tea and lemonade.  It’s a good thing I’m fat because all I’ve managed to make myself eat since Monday is one small frozen pizza a day and a handful of Doritos. 

I know.  It could be VASTLY worse.  My breathing is (so far) uncompromised, and my work is happy to pay me to stay home for a while.  I have cat food and supplies and fancy tissues. 

But I’m bored and cranky and achy.  I’m furious at whichever selfish maskless ass got me into this.  I’m terrified of pushing myself - what if I get Long COVID? 

I’m especially frightened for the little girl who tested positive two days after I visited her family on the evening I first felt symptoms (I thought I was getting a cold, and the symptoms started while I was already there).  Her, and her immunocompromised mother, and her aunt who was going to visit and now can’t, and the rest of her family. 

I’ll never know how I got it.  I’m boosted but due for the new one, and I wear a mask at work and in public, without fail.  Most of the people I see do not.  Even at work.  Know what the stupidest thing about that is? 

I work at a vaccine lab. 

Every single person who works there should know better.  But most of ‘em can’t be bothered. 

Wear a fucking mask.

vr_trakowski: (Default)
Warning: animal injury, mention of animal death
******

My apartment complex has a number of feral cats, mostly fixed at this point.  I feed a few of them every night, and extras on occasion.  It’s a big complex, and there are several territories.  One of the maintenance employees feeds many of the others.  

One of his regulars, a small tortoiseshell, would stop by my location every few months at suppertime and yell for her share, but she didn’t come my way often and so I almost never saw her.  She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t touchable in any way; born feral, and aggressive when cornered.  

Some time this summer she received a hideous injury to her face.  As in, there probably wasn’t an eye left, but it was impossible to tell by looking.  Maintenance Guy had managed to trap her for spaying earlier, but when she got hurt he tried and tried and she wouldn’t go near the trap.  I’d seen her once since, but I couldn’t get near her.  

Last night, she turned up.  Her injury was scabbed over but obviously infected; she was terribly thin, mewing quietly.  I offered food and water, but she wouldn’t take either; I don’t think she could smell them.  I went to sit down where I usually do so everyone could eat in peace.  

She followed me.  She followed me, this untouchable cat, sat down a couple of feet away, and cried at me.  Little mostly silent mews, remaining eye focused on me with determination.  

Help me.  Help me.  Fix it.  

It’s not often that a problem comes with that many flashing arrows pointing at it.  There was no way to talk myself out of the knowledge that I was her solution.  And God (I will say, because that is my faith), having handed me the problem, made sure I could solve it.  

1. I called the county’s Animal Control number.  A live person answered, even though it was almost 11PM.  

2. I got her into the cat carrier (fur and bones, I could feel every rib and vertebra) with no injury to either of us.  

3. Animal Control sent someone to pick her up, here at the very edge of the county, a forty-minute drive one-way at the best of times, and long past dark.  On a weekend.  

I’m certain she was euthanized as soon as she got to the facility.  Even if she weren’t feral, that injury was fearsome, and this is a poor county with limited resources.  But she’s no longer in pain, no longer starving.  

Yet I can’t get over her asking for help.  She didn’t trust humans, she only wanted food, she wouldn’t let anyone closer than a few feet.  

Until last night.  

What made her so certain I could help?  What made her demand it of me?  Weakness might have made her catchable, but she didn’t cringe or flinch, or even struggle until I got her to the door of the carrier.  She even let me pet her a little, tail going up as I stroked my hand down her spine.  

How did she know? 
vr_trakowski: (Default)
Chapter 1

“What’s the word?”  “The word is no. We are therefore going anyway.” - Star Trek III: The Search for Spock

oscillation overthruster - The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension

“Two sharp women are better than one, right?” - CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

“I don’t give a flying handshake“ - The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension

“Don’t drag us into your male mating rituals.”  - Jupiter Ascending

“It’s our ship and the wings are on it.  That’ll do me.” - Cabin Pressure (slightly altered)

“Don’t you want to cover yourself in glory and invoke bowel-wrenching fear in the dark hearts of your enemies?” - Space: Above and Beyond (slightly altered)

a left-handed spanner  -  probably lots of places, but specifically Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

“Everyone remember where we parked.” - Star Trek IV: The One With the Whales

“I’m not nervous. Just...poised for action, that's all.” - Blake’s 7

“By your command.” - Battlestar Galactica (original series)

“Walk on the left side.” - Ladyhawke

“I reversed the polarity of the neutron flow.” - Doctor Who (Third Doctor) (slightly altered)

“Because a dream is the only way any of this makes sense.” - Jupiter Ascending

“I’m not panicking. I’m watching you panic.  It’s more entertaining.” - Brothers in Arms, Lois McMaster Bujold

“We’ve done the impossible, and that makes us mighty!” - Firefly

“No boom today.  Boom tomorrow.  There’s always a boom tomorrow.” - Babylon 5

Chapter 2

“Oh, it took both hands.” - The Vor Game, Lois McMaster Bujold

In the physics of the heart, distance is relative; it's time that is absolute. - Shards of Honor, Lois McMaster Bujold

vr_trakowski: (pages)
 I am having one of those moments where a fragment of fiction has surfaced in my head, offering up detail but completely refusing to let me remember what it's from.  The last time this happened it was a bit from the 1999 Mummy film, and took me days to work out.  

This time it's a young man in a garden at night, speaking with his mother.  They're at odds, somehow, but they're not fighting; and when he leaves her, he folds her hand around a rose, from which he has stripped the thorns.  Is it a Regency romance?  Fanfic?  Fantasy?  I can't tell.  It's not new, certainly.  
vr_trakowski: (Default)
 I have reread Arnold Lobel's Mouse Tales for the first time in many, many years.  I remembered bits of it, vaguely, but I had mostly forgotten just how creepy it is when one of the protagonists buys new feet on the way to visit his mother.  

That's just wrong, somehow.  
vr_trakowski: (Default)
 I just read something that made me remember the fancy shoelaces I had when I was a kid, and for a moment I dropped into reverie, thinking over the colors and patterns and how much I loved looking at them.  I should look online, I thought.  There have to be even more kinds available now - I could find ones with rainbows, with stars...  

I don't own a pair of shoes that lace.  Haven't in years.  *shakes head*  

I still wanna buy some.  

Did you know you can get laces that light up?  
vr_trakowski: (Default)
 

My mother just emailed me to tell me that a family friend suddenly and unexpectedly died.  


I didn’t know him well.  He was my parents’ friend from church, about ten years my elder (though he didn’t look it).  Maybe seven or eight years ago he survived a life-altering physical event that had the side-effect of completely changing his personality as well.  I didn’t know him before that; afterwards he was a witty, light-hearted person who was deliberately wringing as much enjoyment as he could get out of a life restricted by permanent disability.*  


The only times I saw him were at holiday dinners - his family was all far away, so Mom would ask him over, though it was as much friendship as stray-collection.  Except right before this Christmas, when I went with my parents to a holiday display at the local park. He was a miniature train enthusiast and was a member of the group that had set up the (impressive!) train exhibition there.  


He had recently moved, and was planning out a huge setup for his own yard.  


It’s too much grief, in a sense; I didn’t know him that well.  He was visiting family just before he died, so they got to see one another.  But it still feels unfair, somehow.  


He never got his own trains set up…  



*He had the great good fortune to be comfortably well-off even though he could no longer work.  


vr_trakowski: (pages)
 I have a bad habit of getting home from work and frittering away too much time on games or Tumblr, wasting most of the evening.  Not that such things don't have their place, but I also do need to do the dishes.  

It occurred to me that a small ritual of some type might help me avoid the trap.  A deliberate step down from work and commute to relaxation (alas, getting out of my work clothes isn't enough).  I'm just not sure what it should be.  

Lighting a candle?  Making a coffee?  Reading a chapter of something won't work, I can never stop at one, and that is a bad time for trying to write something.  

I suppose this is the sort of situation that a cocktail is designed to fix, but habitual consumption of alcohol aside I just don't like the stuff.  

Hm.  

vr_trakowski: (Default)

We sent a vision to the god

Of war, but in the name of peace.

Glass and metal, gears and rods

A hope that long outlived its lease.

 

We saw a planet through its eye

No foot has trod; and yet, we walked

Along its tracks on dust and rock

To wonder at an alien sky.

 

Science without heart is null

And so we loved this far-sent bot

Our hopes packed into its hull

Our dreams the thing for which it sought.

 

Fifteen years. And now the spark

That lit the path has sputtered out.

But what it learned and brought about

Will build us wings to cross the dark.

 

We’re on our way. Someday we’ll see

Once more - our Opportunity.

 
vr_trakowski: (Default)
So a while back (good heavens, it's been over a year) a book I love went missing, strangely.  To recap: I had been trying to remember the title, glanced over at the nearest bookshelf, and spotted it at the very second the title came into my head.  The Piebald Princess.  I recognized the spine, the binding, the height of it.  But I was doing something else in a hurry, and couldn't lean over and grab it then, so I went back for it later.  

It wasn't there.  

I looked, repeatedly.  I checked other shelves.  Nothing.  

Yesterday morning, I was doing some hasty tidying, and I glanced over at a different bookcase, a shelf near the floor instead of over my head.  A shelf I had checked multiple times.  

Guess what?  

I have absolutely no explanation for its reappearance, but hey, I'll take it.  And the story is still delightful.*  

*Copyright 1954, so the exoticizing of a particular culture is era-typical if mild, and can to an extent be explained by [spoiler].  There is one somewhat objectionable illustration.  
vr_trakowski: (Default)
 

So I did a wee bit of family research today, since my parents were trying to nail down some dates.  I’m the family memory for years people died, but there are some gaps, and I went looking for a photo of my grandfather’s grave marker (found it, too).  


But then I started wondering.  My grandfather’s middle name was Morse, and my father didn’t know why.  I looked up Gramps’ parents, and hey, his mother’s middle initial was M!  Maybe it was a family name…?


But I couldn’t find an entry that listed her full name.  So I tried the same trick, looking up grave marker photos.  Findagrave.com is very helpful.


Well, I found the other set of great-grands, and an entry for Gramps’ dad.  No photo, but it does have his obituary from 1936.


But I can’t find his wife.  No obituary (and she died in 1968).  No grave marker. No middle name. No nothing.  The closest I can get is a couple of census entries and her Social Security death record.  


She must be buried somewhere--but there’s no mention online.  It’s as if she’s been erased. It’s eerie.


On the other hand, it appears my dad’s other grandfather collapsed under slightly suspicious circumstances at home, where he was apparently living alone.  Since his wife didn’t die until almost twenty years later...where was she? They weren’t living together, in 1956? I know they weren’t divorced. I gotta ask Dad about this one.  

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 Don’t get me wrong, I love home-organizing blogs.  I love poring over before-and-after pictures and reading about the latest clever hack or repurpose or new organizational gadget.  I read pages about paper planners even though I do everything on my phone (and not much of it at that).  I find it all very enjoyable, and occasionally I even bookmark an idea or two for later.  

But you know what I would also love to see?  Organization and decorating for everybody else.  

I want to know how to organize a pantry when it consists of one set of shelves, not something you can walk into.  I want pictures of laundry setups where it’s stored in a space the size of a coat closet, not a small room.  I want truly small kitchens, where two or even one person is one too many (I have yet to see a kitchen as small as mine on these blogs).  I want ideas for spaces where you can’t repaint, re-tile, or re-cabinet.  I want to know how to deal with a closet that’s too narrow for an Elfa or even a Rubbermaid system, or how to cover up stained walls, or how to organize a home where you can’t use the cabinets because of the bugs.  

Don’t get me wrong--I’m not knocking those blogs!  People get enjoyment and help from them, and that’s great.  No one should be mocked for what they like.  I’m just not the target audience.  

I want organization for the poor, the crowded, the disabled, the chronically ill.  The people who can’t run out and buy sixteen baskets or matching jars--or, if they can, can’t get them home on the bus.  Those whose carpet came with the place and whose cat/dog/child barfs on it regularly anyway.  Those whose landlords refuse to replace paint or fridges or bathroom cabinets that are old enough to vote.  

The people who have barely enough space for what they need.  The people who don’t have the time or the energy or the strength to tidy every evening or weekend.  The people who have to live in ugly spaces, but still want order in their lives, and maybe some beauty too.  

Does such a thing exist?  

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