Still here, as them bastards at DW still haven't graced my OpenID login with an invite. Just because I've only just registered it. No excuse. Feh.

» Last night, I dreamed and (a rare thing) remembered what I dreamed. Possibly because it was odd even by my standards: I was in crevette's kitchen (someone I know only through reading her LJ, so why I was there I have no idea; there were no clues in the dream either). She was cooking some sort of stew or gumbo in a huge cauldron-like pan on a range at the right end of the far wall, and asked me to add the lamprey like carnivorous sucking fish things by me to the mix. I grabbed one and it turned out to be alive, squirming, and fairly vexed at its intended fate; it squiggled round in a muscly, slimy fashion and attached its mouthparts to my arm. Another one of the things leaped up and went for me too.

After a struggle, I got the fuckers off: they swung round to each other and attached, one to the other, tail to tail, leaving their gaping round maws free to meld with any available human protoplasm. I hurled them away, and they cartwheeled across the kitchen onto the red curtains in the window at the far end of the left wall. crevette detached them with professional ease and threw them in the stew. And that's where it ended, or at least as much as I remember.

No, I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to speculate.

» Yesterday, I rebuilt the pond filter that had been out of action since the end of last week when I managed to break the quartz tube that enrobes the UV bulb. Can see fishes again now, and they seem a lot happier, unsurprisingly.

» Yesterday morning, at 4:30, I was woken by a yell from ramtops in the bathroom. Turns out that Lilith was in there well over half way through consuming a skyrat, the feathers and sundry gore of which was spread over the entire floor. Which also contained Henry and Ron, positively thrumming as they witnessed Lily ravening. Cleaning that lot up wasn't what I wanted to do at that time of the night. Or ever, frankly.

» On Monday, I planted rhubarb on Aliss' grave. It'll either thrive, or wither and die; I've no idea which yet.

» On Sunday, I biked from home to the Bath end of the railway path and back: 40 miles end-to-end, near as damnit. Sore bum when I got home, and pretty tired pedalling from Bristol Self-Store to here; I was expecting my legs to be crippled Monday, but I slept better that night than I have for a long time, and my legs have actually felt better since. Maybe I'm not quite as unfit as I thought.

That's far enough back now, I think. Time to make a pot of tea.

ursulav has posted the best counter to pseudo-anthropologically based human self-delusion and self-justification I've read in a while. Wholeheartedly recommended.

And, an added bonus, from this thread in the comments; I can think of worse things to taste like than spicy chicken :)

Quiz created by Recipe Star

Not a bad weekend for the start of Spring. I went shopping in Easton on Saturday morning, bike and trailer, which is far more civilised than loading stuff up on my back as I usually do. Having your load on wheels behind you means that there's really very little extra strain: you use go more slowly uphill (not that there are any to speak of on that journey) and more gears, but as long as you don't run out of the latter, you can just enjoy the perfect weather and trundle on. Downside was that, by the time I got home, one of the trailer tyres was as flat as a thing.

Turns out the trailer, for some unknown reason, has tubeless tyres which is a PITA. Also: stupid, as the wheels are spoked and, on investigating, I find that the spoke ends have punched through the rubber seal strip round the rim in several places, which is likely my problem. I'm wondering if I'd get away with rubber solution and patches over the offending bits, which would save a lot of hassle.

Afternoon, ramtops and I collaborated on a vat of chilli, beans having been on soak and boiled previously. It ended up in the slow cooker for the evening sans beans, those going in before we went to bed (after a rare evening just sitting and listening to what the Roku pulled out of the library). Torture through the night, of course; the smell was… extraordinary… when I went to the loo sometime in the early hours.

On Sunday there was more domesticity: I fixed up the spicing on the chilli, Mac made a load of Coriander Chicken, laundry was perpetrated, and I assisted in the construction of a pear and ginger crumble, half of which we ate (after a fifth of the chilli, and brown rice) in the evening while ranting at the attitudes of the Great British reality TV voting public who once again (on the dubious assumption that the whole thing isn't actually fixed up by the production company) voted out the competent, confident, unapologetic woman on Dancing on Ice as they have done so often (along with disposing of the Coloured Chaps don'tcha know) earlier in the series.

Now, Monday, and back to werk.

From Vowles the Green, a link to a petition to #10, to suspend regional housing targets determined through the Regional Spatial Strategy, that will eventually receive a patronising token response, and then be totally ignored.

From Craig Murray, an indication of the respect with which the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Human Rights treats communications from the general public.

Oh, but I forgot, you don't want to know about this: don't want to have to think about irrelevant abstractions with no impact on your life, like freedom, democracy, government accountability and so on. Just carry on, then, carry on. As for us, we still have the tail end of Red Nose Day to watch on the Tivo: I'm sure the BBC will have sneaked in a showing of the Gaza Appeal video in there somewhere.

I'm currently reading The Sparrow. I'm not sure this post counts as a spoiler (and the book is 12 years old), but cut just in case.

( part-read commentary )

Also, my default userpic is blanked out for the next week, as a protest at and witnessing of New Zealand's imminent guilt upon accusation law, that manages to go further than anything than the European Commission has (yet) attempted to impose upon us still basking in the ever-ebbing tide of freedom in Europe.

Of course, the protest is slightly misdirected - it's not so much that anyone sharing their internet connection shouldn't be treated like as ISP (though they shouldn't), but that ISPs shouldn't be treated that way either.

Thanks to ramtops for the link

My Political Views
I am a left social libertarian
Left: 6.85, Libertarian: 5.83

Political Spectrum Quiz

My Foreign Policy Views
Score: -8.88

Political Spectrum Quiz

My Culture War Stance
Score: -9.04

Political Spectrum Quiz

ETA: my results on the 2005 UK survey. as linked to by theyorkshergob - bucking at least one trend as I self-classified as "fairly left wing" and turn out to be (in their terms) "very left wing".

A good day for blogposts; here are two that I can't resist linking to on the off chance that'll get them even one more reader.

matociquala on writers writing the Other and how not to be stupid, insensitive, trapped by your hegemonic privilege, &c. when doing so. I'm not a writer, and I'm not likely ever to be one, but I found this post and its comments worth reading as a reader, and as a generic human being. Especially in conjunction with the thread started by nojojojo's comment here.

naamah_darling on being Politically Correct. This one had me near bursting with laughter, which is I think generally the best state of being to be in when learning how not to be, in her felicitous phrase, a plug of congealed, bituminous iguana semen. There's also the added bonus of my quote of the year so far in the comments, from angry_geologist: “'Politically correct' is what bullies call it when their former victims start to stand up for themselves.”

ETA and more; defensive is as defensive does, but cultures are not on a level playing field, and agonising over [perm from] white, male, heterosexual, able-bodied, cis-gendered, straight, anglophonic guilt is unhelpful.

Last night I dreamed that I was part of a conspiracy to kidnap all the living (and unliving, in one notable case) incumbents of the office of Home Secretary, lock them in a large room equipped only with a source of water and a few sharp knives, and wait to see who ate whom first.

I suppose we might have allowed them cooking facilities too: I expect that Bob Carr at least is getting a bit tough at 92.

Messrs. Carr, Brittan, Hurd, Waddington, Baker, Clarke (K), Howard, Straw, Blunkett, Clarke (C), Reid and Smith: who would go first? Perhaps I should make a poll.

I was down with flu over New Year last year, and come Christmas Eve this time round my adenoids decided to assault that specific spot in my throat that triggers my swallow reflex. Thankfully nothing fluish has developed, but I've still got a bastard dry cough that (through empirical tests) has proved immune to Pholcodine, hot whiskey and lemon, and Night Nurse. Separately and in combination. I hit it with good old-fashioned Benylin last night but even the third of a bottle of that I swigged overnight didn't stop me spending an hour awake and coughing around 2am. ramtops is suffering from something related - less coughing but more chest pain and tightness of breath - so between us we've managed to do virtually nothing of the things we'd planned for our fortnight off work. Ho hum.

Anyhow, here's all your traditional end-of-year trivia, in one, easy-to-ignore, post.

( 12 months of LJ )
( Books finished )
( Films/DVDs watched )
( Resolutions! )

Happy New Year to you all; may 2009 be better for you than 2008, both in its best and its worst moments.