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http://notesfromthegeekshow.blogspot.com/2
http://penny-arcade.com/2012/05/16/betwi
The House At Pooh Corner Goes Up For Sale.
Cotchford Farm, the story book setting for the adventures of Winnie the Pooh, has just been put on the market. Author A.A. Milne lived in the real life Pooh corner home for three decades until 1959*. The English estate is where Milne dreamed up several of the stories and poems about the lovable bear. It is also where he raised his son, Christopher Robin.
But Cotchford Farm isn’t all about cuddly bears, honey, and bouncing Tiggers. The home is also the setting of a darker piece of pop culture. Forbes notes that in the late 1960′s, Brian Jones, one of the founding members of the Rolling Stones, purchased the house. Jones was kicked out of the band in 1969 and less than a month later he was found floating dead in his pool at Cotchford Farm.
*And since AAM actually died in 1956 if he was living there until 1959, woooooh, spooky.
But even apart from all that, one gathers that Christopher Robin Milne had possibly less than sanguine memories, or at least felt scarred by his identification with his literary avatar, so perhaps not terribly hummy vibes.
What's the betting that it gets bought up to turn into a theme-park of the Disney version?
Cannot resist linking to this earlier Pooh-related post.
This entry was originally posted at http://oursin.dreamwidth.org/1649618.htm comments.
Tiny hippo and the tiny train. A cautionary tale.
This entry was originally posted at http://oursin.dreamwidth.org/1649338.htm comments.
Are you going to Wiscon?
Barrelhouse is one of my favorite literary magazines. It’s one of the first I picked up, at Von’s Books in Lafayette, Indiana, along with the now-unfortunately-defunt Quick Fiction. It’s one of the magazines that I am proudest to have been able to contribute work to. What I am saying is that this is not, and really cannot be, an impartial review.
I’m not really that concerned about giving an impartial review here. Barrelhouse is great.
Barrelhouse 10 is out. It’s been out for a little while, actually. But when it first came out, I was in the middle of PhD exams – now passed, thankfully – and most of my reading was confined to like articles about Longinus and Burke and the concept of the frame and so forth.
I’ve since had the pleasure of sitting down with Barrelhouse 10. It’s lovely, duh.
Adam Robinson once told me that people who put out print journals are “doing the Lord’s work.” It’s basically impossible to put out a beautiful print journal and actually make back your printing costs. I know. I’ve tried. (Artifice, the magazine I edit, has moved to a quarterly, online format; we’re going to be focusing our print efforts on books for the time being.)
On the other hand, I don’t want to suggest for a minute that you should give Barrelhouse your money for their sake. That’s a ridiculous reason to support a magazine. Here are some good ones:
“I think one of us is a ghost,” I said. “I think it’s you.”"Well,” he said. “You know what that means.”"What?”"No condoms.”I went to the mirror, said my name three times, and spun around. I closed my eyes and opened them, but I was still there.
Josh, hello? Yeah, I’m here. It’s me, Margaret. You don’t know me, but I know you. I watch you. I like what I see, and I touch myself.
(I was in a class once with Sarah Sweeney, in Greensboro, NC: I can vouch for her, that she does in fact make prank calls to authority figures. Or did, still, in college, at any rate.)
I only want you to dance
on my smoking undergarments.With G_D’s help the pile will re-ignite
each time you reach the doorso I can pinch a moment alone
beneath my iron skirt.
I read somewhere that Nabokov was actually a pretty terrible literature professor. He didn’t have much to say about the books that he loved. He had that problem, that I think a lot of writers have, of just wanting to point at something in a book and say: That. Pay attention to that. That right there.
This. Barrelhouse. This.
Mirrored from Marsha Sisolak.
Trader Joe’s dark chocolate bar, caramel with black sea salt. Run, do not walk, to the nearest TJ’s.
This commercial brought to you by my delighted taste buds. You may thank the Eldest Child’s girlfriend. I know I am.
http://crookedtimber.org/2012/05/16/the-d
http://crookedtimber.org/?p=24469
Gizmodo has a piece proclaiming the death of Flickr at the hands of the hateful and incompetent Yahoo. In many ways, Flickr has been the most important site on the internet to me (after CT of course) for the past five years. There isn’t another site that allows people who are serious about photography (including film) to display and talk about their work with others who feel the same way, that also includes a social media component. True, there are other sites that are good display vehicles (zenfolio or smugmug) but that’s like opening your shop down a dusty side-street: random traffic. And there are other sites that do the social media thing and carry photos (Facebook, Google+) but where you are showing your stuff not to photographers but to your “friends” who may or may not care. No one else does the combination. The other thing about Flickr is the crossover from online social groups to real-world friendships. In Bristol we have monthly pub meets and various other events; through other Flickr projects I’ve met and hung out with photographers in other places, notably San Francisco. I’d never have met those people on Facebook. But Flickr does look tired and Yahoo has starved it of support. It is not dead yet, but it will be a tragedy if it goes, since nothing else does the same job.
http://crookedtimber.org/2012/05/16/pret
http://crookedtimber.org/?p=24455
Pretender, in the non-pejorative sense (and à propos of nothing in particular). Wikpedia’s definition will do: “A pretender is one who claims entitlement to an unavailable position of honour or rank. Most often it refers to a former monarch, or descendant thereof, whose throne is occupied or claimed by a rival, or has been abolished.” So, for example, Plato was pretender to the Philosopher King’s throne in a perfectly respectable sense. He wasn’t an imposter. It was his proper title. This seems to me a concept deserving of wider application and all-around democritization. When you write up your resume or CV, why list only the position you’ve got? That’s an extremely random sort of fact about yourself, on average. If we must be defined by our jobs or stations, most of us are much better defined by the offices or stations we should have – but that someone else is squatting on, through no merit of their own; or that, through no fault of our own, just don’t happen to exist. I’d be perfect for a lot of way cool jobs that don’t happen to exist. And if being perfect for the job isn’t some sort of entitlement, I don’t know how anyone can be entitled to any job. (Not that I don’t have a good job now. I do. And I’m lucky to have it.) Pretending, in this sense, is the highest form of ethical authenticity. “Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. Those who think themselves the masters of others are indeed greater slaves than they.” That is, you ought to put ‘pretender to freedom’ on your business card. If you put ‘accounts executive’ or ‘associate professor’ you are selling yourself short. Think about that kid in “The Squid and the Whale” who pretends he wrote “Hey You”. He’s not trying to fool anyone. He just thinks he should have written it. It was only a sort of accident that Roger Waters got there first. Makes a certain amount of sense.
What should your business card say?
I’ve been thinking of a way to explain to straight white men how life works for them, without invoking the dreaded word “privilege,” to which they react like vampires being fed a garlic tart at high noon. It’s not that the word “privilege” is incorrect, it’s that it’s not their word. When confronted with “privilege,” they fiddle with the word itself, and haul out the dictionaries and find every possible way to talk about the word but not any of the things the word signifies.
Yesterday’s post garnered 800 comments before I put it to bed and I ended up deleting a record number of comments out of it, largely from presumably straight white men enraged at the idea their life doesn’t necessarily suck as much as other folks’ and/or because they ate lead paint chips as children and have impulse control issues (plus a couple from other, calmer folks following up on posts I later deleted, so theirs needed to be deleted too). Whatever the reason, I thought it would be fun to post a compendium of Malletings here for your enjoyment
Also posted at Dreamwidth, where there arecomment(s); comment here or there.
The surface of Mars is a tough place to survive, but researchers at the German Aerospace Center (DLR) found some lichens and cyanobacteria tough enough to handle those conditions.
After driving off Greeley Haven – where she stood patiently for 19 long weeks – Opportunity is now driving again. Not just turning, not just bumping, but driving. She’s driven away from Greeley Haven, heading a short distance downhill, towards a small patch of wind-blown dust which has caught the rover team’s eye.
Sam Wollaston is right (bluuuuue mooooon, you saw me standing aloooooone) to be less than completely convinced that 'there really is "a new breed of women" as we're told', who practise 'rinsing', or women getting blokes to give them stuff, often really expensive stuff, for no return.
I give you Miss Adelaide (the Famous Fiancee) doing her act at the Hot Box in Guys and Dolls with 'Take Back Your Mink':
This seems to me yet another instance in which an existing, sometimes even age-old, practice is facilitated by the internet, but commentators seem to imagine was created by it.
***
In other news, I went to collect my new glasses this week and was told that they'd been delivered nearly 2 weeks ago (having been told a deliver date of this week), but Boots Opticians no longer contact people to let them know their glasses have arrived. I think they could at least suggest that people ring themselves... the situation is not satisfactory.
Anyway, these are the new specs. Still adjusting to new prescription.
This entry was originally posted at http://oursin.dreamwidth.org/1649022.htm comments.
The amount of time needed after reading a satirical news story, before you can read a regular news site without wondering what the joke was meant to be.
| The brass eye Countdown |
| The de-onionisation interval |
| SEWIWEIC |


Originally published at tansyrr.com. You can comment here or there.
My Flappers with Swords blog tour continues – I have a piece up at Kate Elliott’s blog on Looking For The Women (in Ancient Rome) which is a response and sequel to her own excellent Looking For Women in Historically-Based Fantasy Worlds.
“If a story starts with a maiden, let’s not assume that she has to get locked in a tower.”
I haven’t been blogging about writing much lately, meanwhile. I am writing a lot. I’ve started something new while I wait to hear about a whole bunch of irons which may or may not be in the fire. It’s exciting me a lot. I’m also writing a bunch of short fic and trying to get myself Out There. The tiny time windows I have to write in are starting to squeeze tighter and tighter, but there’s nothing I can do about that except breathe deep and carry on. I’m nearly at 50K total fiction words for the year, which would be more exciting if the year wasn’t nearly half over.
The Clarion Write-a-thon just swung past my radar again. I had completely forgotten about it and yet, checking back over my blog, it’s the thing that made the difference in building writing momentum for me last year, and helped me get to the halfway point of my Nancy Napoleon novel. 37,000 words in six weeks, not shabby at all.
http://www.strangehorizons.com/reviews/2
http://bigother.com/2012/05/15/big-bridg
Big Bridge’s 15th Anniversary issue is now live. It contains multitudes.