anagramofbrat: (fuck you)
Dearly beloved
We are gathered here today
2 get through this thing called life
Electric word, life -
It means forever and that's a mighty long time
But I'm here 2 tell u
There's something else:
The afterworld

A world of never ending happiness
U can always see the sun, day or night

So when u call up that shrink in Beverly Hills
U know the one, Dr. Everything'll Be Alright
Instead of asking him how much of your time is left
Ask him how much of your mind, baby

'Cuz in this life
Things are much harder than in the after world
In this life
You're on your own

And if de-elevator tries 2 bring u down
Go crazy - punch a higher floor


2016, I am fucking DONE with you professionally.
anagramofbrat: (anxious tenna)
So I mostly "wrote" this post with the Dragon Dictate app on my phone. I downloaded it at the recommendation of Ruthy, who apparently uses it for everything. Since she swears by it, I figured I'd give it a go. It'll be interesting because I speak very differently from how I write... I sense there will be a lot of editing in post. (ETA: Oh dear gods yes wow my spoken rambling makes NO sense written down, lol.)

So, what's been going on... Ferguson. *sigh* It's been really upsetting me, for reasons that should be pretty damned obvious. I don't really want to write too much about it, honestly, both because upsetting, and also because people out there and on the ground have already written, tweeted and livestreamed quite a bit about it in the past couple of weeks as everything unfolded. But yeah, it's... it's been bringing me down, so much that I can only take twitter in small doses now. It's also deeply affected Drew - the other night we had a talk about how he came to the realization I'd been kinda carrying since Trayvon Martin was killed - that if by some miracle (or if we accepted Nuke's still standing offer on paying for a vasectomy reversal) we had a kid, that one day it could be them dead in the street for little to no reason at all. Needless to say, it threw him for a loop, and he got further thrown realizing that I've lived with this constant threat all my life. It's funny, almost anyone else I'd be all *raised eyebrow* yeah, welcome to my life, have a T-shirt, it sucks. Not so much this time - I guess what I'm feeling regarding that discussion is less the usual racial schadenfreude and more of a "ohh, he actually really gets it." I mean, yes it sucks major balls carrying the knowledge of just how much the world sucks around. They're not kidding about ignorance being bliss. (And judging by some of the shit I've seen online, there are a lot of very blissful people out there.) At the same time, it's on some level a relief knowing he does think about it and understands some of it. Not going to lie, it's a nice change from several years ago and him being irritated by the very idea of privilege and how it applies to him.

In other life and adulthood suck news, lol... actually I have some reasonably good news on that front. Reasonably because money still sucks and is going to temporarily suck a bit more than usual, but the suckage will be in service to money ultimately NOT sucking in the reasonably near future. I know, that was clear as mud, and how about I say reasonably a few more times? I guess lets just say I'd been avoiding handling a particular chunk of financial stupid and it had been feeling like an anvil about to drop on my head, but I finally gathered my gonads and dealt with it this week. Again, the dealing with it is still gonna make life annoying for a little while, but at this point I will willingly take being slightly annoyed and inconvenienced over the weight I'd been dragging for the better part of two years. So go me? I guess? Ugh. After rolling around in the relief of finally getting that handled I fell into a sulk about the various little ways my life has been slowly spinning out of my control lately. In slightly less melodramatic turns, even before this week I've noticed there's been a gradual uptick in anxiety/avoidance/self-sabotaging behavior on my part this year. Well, really since about when Dad passed, but its lately gotten to the point where if it hasn't already, its gonna start marching up my pants leg to bite the inside of my ass. So I need to get a firm handle on the plates I already have spinning, safely remove a few, and then seriously sit down and start looking for therapists again. Because fuck this shit.

There has been Massive Monkeyspace Drama on Facebook this week too, which got to such a patently ridiculous level that it looped into hilarious. I'm sure modern incarnations of the purity tests we used to forward around in college have a question concerning "have you ever lost a friend in an online fight?" and I'm also sure I'm down that point as of Monday night, but honestly considering how things fell out I'm okay with that. While the actual drama itself was eyeroll-worthy at best the aftermath seems to be causing some old previous relationship scars to flare up again which just adds some delicious flavor to the mild suck soup that is my head right now. But, eh, it will pass and I will deal with it. I don't really want to get into it much further than that.

It's not been all suck either, but a lot of the not sucky things I can't put into a public post and I also have to go put the laundry in the dryer and return to the massive pile of work that still needs to get done tonight, boo. So I will just leave you with the high point of last weekend, which was cosplaying Carmen Sandiego for Bon Appetit Burlesque's "Around the World in 80 Twirls" show:



I can't remember the last time a costume made me so fucking happy. I've been a Carmen Sandiego fangirl since the game show used to air on PBS and I'd watch it with Roy Jr when he was wee tiny. Hell, I can still sing most of the theme song from memory, but that might have more to do with me also being a Rockapella fangirl. If the wig and the hat weren't so bloody hot I'd just be Carmen Sandiego all the damn time, though I am woefully incapable of pulling off national landmark level heists. I got a lot of compliments on the outfit. Desrvedly I think... I apparently can rock a red trench coat. :)

But back to life, back to reality. *sigh* *hatred*
anagramofbrat: (writing)
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.


I would say Maya Angelou did more than rise. I'd say she soared. And she will be missed. And I will resist the urge to buy all of her books today because WTF not having any in this house, come on. No wait, we might have one. Still, unacceptable. I'll have to fix that at some point.

I'm also grossly behind again on posting which sucks because life is happening and I'm not relentlessly documenting it and I feel bad about that. Fucking Minecraft, lol. Seriously though... will try to fix in the next couple days.
anagramofbrat: (bitch please)
I had amazing day today up until 11pm when I turned on my phone after Burlesque (and four hours unplugged from the internet) and read the Zimmerman verdict.

FUCK.

I'ma just link to this post I wrote back in March of last year. I don't have any more words than that. Anger, sadness, resignation, frustration, the desire to hug my nephews (and I will next week when I see them) yes. Words? No.

My squee about the rest of the day can wait.
anagramofbrat: (ORLY? (Hex))
I can't talk about Newton, CT, really - I have a jumble of layered feelings in relation to it, but I will say that I find it a little... disturbing...? that I found myself trying very hard to hide my sniffles and leaking eyeballs at Paperman/Wreck-it Ralph tonight, while earlier when [livejournal.com profile] htl_1126 informed me of the death toll as of then (up to 27 dead, most of them children) I felt almost nothing other than "...again?"

I may well have turned the corner into complete sociopathy, y'all. Not okay about this level of numbness.

But positive things. Not just because I'm selfish, but because good news on a dark day is a good thing right? [livejournal.com profile] cell23 took me out for a date tonight, which did all sorts of squirrely blushy things to my face and bad things to my head and other bits, seeing as he'd had to dress up for work today and left the suit on purely because he knew I'd like it. We did indeed see Wreck-It Ralph tonight and much as I expected, I loved the shit out of it. Yeah, about a month late but it meant that we sat in an empty theater while everyone else went to The Hobbit. I wouldn't know where to begin squeeing about everything I loved in that movie, all the little details and nods and winks that Disney snuck in that you'd miss if you blinked, because there were many of them, but the main thing I actually take my hat off to Disney for is that other than the gender stereotyping inherent in the licensed characters appearing in the movie, the movies was pretty refreshingly light on the gender bias. (Hell, now that I think about it, it even passes the Bechdel test.) Mainly the thing I appreciated regarding this was that the audiences' window into the player experience of the movie's world was a girl - She never gets a name, but you see her roaming the arcade trying to play everything regardless of genre, and her game of Hero's Duty leads to some... amusing commentary of game violence. But the thing that really got me was when she tried to go on to play Sugar Rush, which I swear, all the scenes set in the that game gave me diabeetus of the eyeballs, wow, she was barred by two older boys monopolizing the entire cabinet.

Seriously, in a world where I get annoyed by having to remind my MIL that her granddaughter likes LEGOs just as much as her grandsons, that consideration makes me happy.

The main consequence of this is a burning desire to shotgun all four seasons of ReBoot! the last year and a half I've actually never seen even, which is crazy to me because there was a time when that show and its awesomeness (well for 1994 - that animation, while groundbreaking at the time, didn't age well... would not say no to Mainframe Entertainment redoing the first few seasons to look more like the last one) was My Major Fannish Thing. Case in point:



BTW, greasepaint is balls.

I think one of the things that annoyed me in all the conversations, blogs and reddit posts about Wreck it Ralph is the mistaken assumption that it's the first example of something attempting to portray the video game experience "from the inside." I'm not saying ReBoot! did it better - some aspects of that show were made of laughable fail (cough, Enzo, cough). But it did present some interesting concepts that worked within its internal continuity, like games being contained in cubes that would drop on the city randomly and if the citizens trapped within couldn't defeat The User (or Player One, if you will) that section of the city contained within the game would be destroyed.

Hilariously, Disney was the cause of ReBoot! pretty much ending its run in the US, seeing as they bought ABC while it was airing and wiped out their preexisting Saturday Morning Cartoons block to make room for its own programming. Seasons 3 and 4 eventually aired on Cartoon Network, but it never got the same amount of exposure its early episodes did, which is a pity, as once they were no longer so rigidly constrained by Standards and Practices, the show went from being okay/reasonably good to OMGWTFAWESOME. Alas, no one saw it. :/

Wellp, I have a working DVD player now, and the box set at last check, was only $47. Maybe it's finally time to drop some cash on getting it. I'll save some space for Wreck It Ralph on the shelf next to it, as it deserves.
anagramofbrat: (lizard happy)
I'd heard in passing that Nora Ephron had died yesterday. It wasn't something that made a huge blip on my radar - I enjoyed the movies she'd done that I'd seen, but that was about it.

Someone posted this quote to Goodreads to mark her passing this morning. Needless to day I found it rather apropos.

I married him against all evidence. I married him believing that marriage doesn't work, that love dies, that passion fades, and in so doing I became the kind of romantic only a cynic is truly capable of being.

Yeah, that works.

Aw fuck.

Jun. 6th, 2012 10:57 am
anagramofbrat: (this too shall pass)
RIP, Ray Bradbury.

This guy pretty much warped my fragile tweenage mind enough to ensure lifelong science fiction fangirlery. I has a sad.

Aww

Jun. 4th, 2012 07:58 pm
anagramofbrat: (sing)
I'm honestly kinda bummed to hear Eduard Khil passed away. If you are unsure who that is, well, "Trolololo lo lololo lololo hohohohoooooo" should give you a clue.



He seemed like a sweet old guy that seemed to be genuinely amused and a little touched by his sudden, late in life Internet fame and was even having fun with it.

Interesting Fact/Cool Story Bro Time: the song is actually titled Я очень рад, ведь я, наконец, возвращаюсь домой which loosely translates as "I'm very happy to be returning home at last." I hope he is.


At some point where I'm not freezing and cranky and headachy and overtired, I should post a ramble about how one of the many reasons I have ladyboners for Russian classical/choral music is that instead of the emphasis and melodies being placed in the higher registers like most Western European music, Russian exquivelents tend to skew towards the baritone-bass range instead, which leads to a completely different sound and flavor. And I do dearly love me a warm, rich lower register. May also explain why any song sung by Leonard Cohen, Paul Robeson, Johnny Cash or Peter Steele (among other people) will get my attention rather... quicker... than other vocal ranges.
anagramofbrat: (brat)


This terrifying image is one of the stage sets for the ballet Nutcracker, designed by Maurice Sendak. His designs and sketches for the show were incorporated into a handsomely bound edition of the actual story "Nutcracker" by E.T.A. Hoffman, which I received as a Christmas present as a kid, read a couple of times and refused to open again for a couple of years because all the very... toothsome... illustrations utterly terrified me.

(As an aside, this was also my first audiobook - six cassette tapes worth of Christopher Plummer (!!!) reading the story and scored with Tchaikovsky's suite.)

Maurice Sendak's books and illustrations continue to terrify me now that I'm grown, but it's a more delicious sort of terror, the sort that remembers what it felt like to be scared of the monsters in the closet or under the bed, but now knows they either don't exist or are harmless.

He will be missed. :(
anagramofbrat: (they don't hear your cries)
Apparently the Beastie Boys have lost one of their number today.



Aside - whatever happened to that spot-on "Sabotage" video cut from Battlestar Galactica footage? Couldn't find it anywhere.
anagramofbrat: (bitch please)
I have to interrupt the usual stream of silliness and bitching, y'all. It's been a long ass while since something on the news has fucked with me this badly and I'm having all kinds of FEELINGS about it, which is one in a bunch of reasons why I'm not dead asleep right now.

This is going to get long and nasty and thorny and opinionated, and I highly suspect some folk are going to squirm/be triggered/get pissed at me reading it. I'm not cutting it. I'm only barely feeling considerate enough to place a trigger warning in the title. Deal. Or scroll.

So let's talk about this kid for a minute:



This is 17 year old Trayvon Martin. He was shot and killed in Florida on February 26 while walking to a 7-11 to get some candy for his brother. Why? According to the man that shot him, "he looked suspicious." ...Uh huh. I'm totally paraphrasing, by the way, his actual words were far more... chilling is the wrong word, but it's all I've got. No I'm not quoting them, google it.

Earlier this evening police released 911 audio of eight calls made at the time of the shooting. After reading the description of their contents here, I've opted to not listen. I know I wouldn't be able to handle it, and I'm having enough trouble sleeping this evening. The description is enough to have me in some ugly tears.

I wouldn't say there is enough coverage of this out there by way of Twitter, blogs and the news, because there isn't, and frankly, there never is when a kid of color dies. (Pretty confident a lot of you are hearing about this for the first time via this post.) However, most of what I could say about this has been said by people far better at this whole expressing outrage and grief on the internet than I am. The #TrayvonMartin hashtag on twitter pretty much covers it, as well as completely breaks my heart six ways from Sunday.

I will say this though. Between this case, this kid's picture (he don't look like anybody's 17, I'm sorry), all the points people have brought up about the (non)value of black boys in our supposedly post-racial society, looking at the way my sisters and friends of color raise their kids, especially their sons, and all the things I hated but completely understood about how my ex used to behave as a large black man in a 90% white public? I think I'm finally okay with not having children in this lifetime, because this is all shit I would have to deal with and worry about every single day as a Black mother, and y'all... I can't even. I don't know how some of you deal with this and still manage to let your boys out of your sight to live their lives, knowing that they run the VERY FUCKING REAL risk of having their LIVES ENDED for having the audacity to walk down a street in a way that upset someone paler than they are, and 9 times out of 10, said pale person wouldn't catch jack shit for it. Because this isn't an isolated incident, y'all. I wish it was, but this shit's been happening almost every day since most of us brown folk got dragged here in chains. And you know what? It's pretty fucking rough just dealing with that day in and day out, just knowing if you slip up and take a shortcut through the wrong town at the wrong time,* it'll cost you in at best harassment, at worst grievous bodily harm, possibly including death. All because you happen to be somewhat more sun-resistant than Freckle McBlonderson over there. And then add the fact that you have to worry about your kids as well? Ffffffffuuuuuuucccccccck.

Y'all who never have to worry about this shit as you raise your kids? Give some serious fervent thanks to whatever power you hold dear that you don't, cause it sucks. And I'm not going to lie, tonight I resent your privilege in this department more than a little bit. Nope, no exceptions, sorry, I'm not writing any Black Friend Passes today and just as a heads up, the window may remain closed at least through the weekend. Too upset, and fuck you if you don't get why.

I'm not at all optimistic about there being any kind of positive outcome in this case, and it is almost a moot point because even if key people managed to get their collective heads out of their asses and some kind of legal justice was served, Trayvon is still horribly, senselessly dead. The media and the Internet being what they are, his death won't necessarily spark nearly enough outrage to really change anything either because in order to get people outside of the niche that is, say, #blacktwitter to give a shit about black boys dying, some white guys have to make a video about it and make it go viral. Bonus if they then get busted for drug use and public masturbation. That's what makes people pay attention. One sweet-faced teenager just getting his brother some candy and getting shot for his trouble? Well like I sad, Trayvon died on the 26th of February. Why did it take twenty damn days for this to get widespread press? Shit.

All I want to do right now is hug the stuffing out of my nephews and tell them I love them. And cry buckets that it's still so fucked up out there that shit like this can still happen and no one'll say boo, and even if someone does? deaf ears.

Wellp. Until next time, folks. Sadly, there will be one.



* seriously, look up "sundown towns" and "The Green Book" sometime. You'll learn stuff.
anagramofbrat: (Maleficent)
The weathermen have said to expect 1-4 inches of snow for the last three days. Other than a sprinkle that was gone by 10am? no snow. Temperatures dropped and errthang, but nothing fell from the sky. At least it sorta feels like winter out there - other than the freak snowstorm around Halloween we haven't really had any winter weather of note this year.... which of course means we're going to get five feet around beginning to mid-April. I'd not be surprised if we got snowed into PAX.

Anyway. So life, not much really to report at the moment. I've been fighting off a chest cold for a little over a week; today I'm ready to declare the battle lost. Mostly because I can; I'm done with today's bell performance (which went much better than previous ones) and I've got nothing planned for the rest of the day. I did want to get productive things done with the time, but considering how I feel right now, I'm declaring fuck it and reserve the right to hide in my nice warm bed with library books and the iPad relentlessly consuming media and occasionally whining pathetically at [livejournal.com profile] cell23 to get me things so I don't have to move. Considering what the last couple of days have been like with regard to social, family and wedding stuff commitments, I'm not too surprised my body is all "No, seriously, bitch, lay down and rest a spell."

Course, I can't complain, other than being punctuated by coughing the past couple days had their really good moments. Friday I spent running around doing wedding shit (more about that in a separate entry because there is a LOT of blathering to be done about that) and yesterday I spent first up in Athol at [livejournal.com profile] cell23's uncle's birthday brunch, and then later we went to Moti's for dinner and all I can say is oooooooh, Persian lamb stew nom nom. After that there was the Bon Appetit Burlesque's Love/Hate Show and, well, boobies. Also there is something incredibly happy about ending your day by being sassed (and then hugged) by an adorable drag queen in a wedding dress. I seriously have more than a little bit of a crush on Hors D'Oeuvres, I'm not even going to lie.

It was during the second half of the show that I (and indeed, everyone else in the audience) heard about Whitney Houston. this got long. )

Anyway. About that lying down, resting a spell and feeling miserable... Waiting to Exhale has been on my Netflix queue forever, maybe today's a good day to actually watch it.
anagramofbrat: (covered in bees)
A sort of belated Happy Hannukah and a not at all late wish for a blessed Solstice to all who celebrate either/both! Somewhat annoyed that I'm spending my Longest Night on the road instead of with my sweetie, but honestly way I've been lately there'd be more sleeping than celebrating going on. Sorry, baby, I'll make it up when I get back. :D

I had noble intentions of slogging my way through a half or 3/4 day at the store today and from there leaping on the B43 to catch the megabus at the mall. I came to my senses sometime last night, especially since due to a total spoon crash it was a wash, productivity and pre-trip preparation-wise. So I'm staying home, making sure I have everything I need for my almost a week away, and took the opportunity to grab some extra sleep, as I'm pretty sure one of the more stressful bits of the upcoming week is gonna be my entire family freaking out about how thin I've gotten and me frantically handwaving away their expected concerns about my health. Least Dad and Faye have seen me reasonably recently so they'll be fine about it; the rest of them... erm. That is not going to be fun. I don't need to look exhausted on top of gaunt, so extra sleep is something of a bonus. I also plan to spend much of the bus trip unconscious as well.

I've been following the news out of North Korea rather avidly the past couple days. That place is so messed up and with the death of Kim Jong-il, it's only going to get more so. I've made plenty of snark on Twitter about it, but I really do find the whole thing fascinating*; the cults of personality that surrounded the Eternal President, the Dear Leader and no doubt will be fashioned around the Great Successor** as well, the entire propaganda mill of the country charged with covering up any negative press anyone gives this country. I've seen quite a few documentaries about what it's like over there and I can't even wrap my brain around any of it. I find the footage of all the people weeping and pounding the ground and having the vapors surreal. How much is that is genuine? (Probably most of it, seeing as North Koreans are indoctrinated into this Kim Il-sung/Jong-Il as God the Father and his only begotten son idea from the time they can walk if not before.) How much of that is "oh shit, if I don't cry enough they will shoot me?" And Kim Jong-Un? A bit terrified by the fact that he's six years younger than I am and still looks like a sullen teenager in the official photos.*** This is gonna be an... interesting transfer of power.

Also damn, 2011 has been a bad year on the Wacky Dictator With Interesting Fashion Sense and Hot Henchwomen front.


...unrelated, but I don't entirely hate the new LJ comment interface. Titles weren't really necessary anyway and tended to fuck up the google threading of comments in gmail anyway so I'm not gonna miss them. Not sure what the latest storm of brouhaha, tantrum and "THATS IT I'M SWITCHING TO GEICO DREAMWIDTH" is all about other than LJ people liking their biannual dose of complain and flounce.



* I came to my fascination with North Korea by way of my obsession with skyscrapers - from 1989 until recently a huge looming trangular and fantastically ugly structure that would have been the the world's tallest hotel, squatted, unfinished, over the Pyongyang skyline. The government was so embarrassed by it that no one was allowed to get near it, it was photoshopped out of all official pictures of the city, and if you asked any North Korean about the GIANT FUCKING CONCRETE PYRAMID RIGHT OVER THERE they would deny knowing what you were talking about. Yeah. About two or three years ago an egyptian cell phone company restarted construction on the Ryugong Hotel, wrapping all the ugly concrete in glass so while it's still kinda terrifying in a blinding sort of way, it's at least less of an eyesore, and apparently there are still plans to make it into some kind of hotel and office space.

** next three MacOSes anyone?

*** Also kinda imagining a creepy Baron Harkonnen/Feyd Rautha dynamic between him and his now dead father; I think it's mostly Herbert's description of Feyd as full faced and constantly pouting that does it. But imagining Kim Jong-Il muttering "LOVELY JONG-UN" under his breath while making evil mastermind hands... I'm gonna stop now.
anagramofbrat: (ed)
"No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

"Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."


--Steve Jobs, 2005

I'm not a big one for celebrity death, but considering Fisher Price® My First Computer™ was an Apple IIGS, and I am alamngly dependent on an iPod Touch to keep me organized, on task, in touch and entertained, not to mention I've been watching Pixar shorts long before anyone had heard of Woody and Buzz (and i totally mean that in an "I'm old" sense, not in a "I'm a disgusting hipster" sense)... This one's hitting kinda hard.

I'm sure personally he may have been more than kind of a dick, and Apple's "walled-garden" approach to controlling their brand makes me shake my head (this is the company i affectionately refer to as iCult, after all) but you can't deny Steve Jobs has left a huge and impressive legacy behind, and for his contributions to personal computing, portable media and film, nothing but respect and gratitude here.

Also yeesh. Internally they had to know the end was near - cancer, in addition to all its other fuckery, is by no means a quick death. I have to give the higher ups at Apple mad props for going on with the iPhone event yesterday like nothing major was wrong. That takes panache.

Anyway. Shit. As i posted elsewhere earlier, in my minds eye i see multitudes of iPods, iPhones and iPads, all jacked to full brightness, all running a variety of virtual lighter apps, all raised in tribute. May they light his journey into whatever afterlife there may be.

Thank you, Steve.

Posted, appropriately enough, via ljapp, from my iPod Touch.
anagramofbrat: (new york)
Bit heavy on the posts today, but that's just following the trend of busy day = more posting.

I was sad to hear this morning that Peter Falk had died today. I remember Columbo; my mom watched it. Even so, I was a little young for it at the time, so I don't remember too much of it other than the episode here and there that I caught on Nick at Nite or something as a teen or an adult. No, Peter Falk to me will always be the Grandfather who comes in, makes lame jokes, pinches my cheek even though I hate it, and reads me a certain story because I'm sick. (Just not the kissing parts.) Yeah, this one didn't hit me in the gut until [livejournal.com profile] cell23 asked in the car "but who is gonna read the story again tomorrow now?"

I know how some of you feel about The Princess Bride. Yeah, it's overquoted and its fans do tend to think it's the greatest thing since sliced bread to the point of annoyance, I get that. But that movie was a big part of my childhood. From like age 9 until 13 I quite literally watched the copy we had in the house once a week, sometimes twice and certainly every day I stayed home sick from school, and I still know every line and camera angle. So tonight I ask for y'all to stuff the haterade cause for a bit, Peter Falk was the grandfather I never got to have growing up, having missed both Mom and Dad's fathers by years.

Anyway. RIP, Grandpa. You will be missed.

* * * * *

In other news... I was gonna write this whole big long thing about how marriage equality passed in New York this evening, how psyched I am that it is now legal in both states I call home to marry the one you love regardless of what combination of dangly bits you have, why this issue is so important to me and the impact it's had in my life (lets just say if it had been legal in either NY or MA ten years ago I think my life would have been VERY different right now), but then this picture from Newsweek's tumblr got posted to Twitter and I completely lost my shit.



Yep. All of this, and it's a picture of a fucking skyscraper that leaves me sobbing. Pictures being worth a thousand words and all, I think this picture covers just about everything I could possibly express about this, and far more eloquently, so I'm just going to leave it here, and go terrify [livejournal.com profile] cell23 by needing a hug now.

*sniffle*

Apr. 20th, 2011 04:54 pm
anagramofbrat: (rage)

(sketch by [livejournal.com profile] booksavvy)

I heard yesterday like everyone else, but somehow, seeing as I've only just jumped on the whole Doctor Who bandwagon a year ago, kinda felt like others on my f-list who'd been fans longer had the RIP posts covered. Course then I saw this this afternoon (sniffly hattip to [livejournal.com profile] kshandra) and kinda went all over with the bawling so I figured I'd note Elizabeth Sladen's passing and share the image.



OH CRAP LATE FOR BELLS
anagramofbrat: (movie reel)
I'm sure I could find something else in Elizabeth Taylor's long career to quote in her memory, but the main thing that comes to mind is a commercial from my childhood that I swear was still airing as recently as last Christmas:



Since I'm sure TCM will be pre-empting all of its programming for the next week in favor of her movies I have a feeling Dad and I will be doing that tonight. Hopefully there will be some Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf action there, but hell, I have no shame, I'll be equally happy if Cleopatra comes on. Yes, I like that movie a lot. All 4+ gloriously over the top melodramatic hours of it.

Rest in peace, Lady Liz. You were a legend.
anagramofbrat: (movie reel)
I'm sure I could find something else in Elizabeth Taylor's long career to quote in her memory, but the main thing that comes to mind is a commercial from my childhood that I swear was still airing as recently as last Christmas:



Since I'm sure TCM will be pre-empting all of its programming for the next week in favor of her movies I have a feeling Dad and I will be doing that tonight. Hopefully there will be some Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf action there, but hell, I have no shame, I'll be equally happy if Cleopatra comes on. Yes, I like that movie a lot. All 4+ gloriously over the top melodramatic hours of it.

Rest in peace, Lady Liz. You were a legend.
anagramofbrat: (brat)
Something I ran across elsewhere on LJ alerted me to the fact that space officially lost its cool factor a quarter century ago today.

I very clearly remember Challenger, it was actually the first national disaster of sorts that I was reasonably sentient for. Enough to be affected by it, anyway. I was seven, in second grade, all excited because we all had been reading those Scholastic kids' newsletters about Christa McAuliffe (holy shit, I still remember her name) being the First Teacher In Space! and like most kids, thought her class was the luckiest in America. (Yeah, no.) Dad was also all excited about it because one of the crew was Ronald McNair, who happened to be a member of Omega Psi Phi and in the fashion of all black fraternities and their brothers, this was a Very Big Deal. I mean, regardless it was still a Big Deal, McNair being only the second African American in space ever with his previous Challenger mission in 1984.

Me being seven and still hazy on racial politics/dynamics (attending an international school where being American of any stripe/color was the minority you got teased about tended to blunt that a bit) my focus was on the teacher. One of the random little details mentioned in the newsletter profile was that she always carried a stuffed frog for luck, for some reason this is the one thing that still sticks in my head, even though I've seen it mentioned nowhere else since. Little things about a person tend to get lost when they perish in a space accident.

Thankfully I wasn't one of the kids instantly traumatized by watching the launch live. But I do remember my teacher being called out of the classroom by our principal for a few minutes during Reading Time, then coming back to tearfully announce that there had been an accident and all seven of Challenger's crew were dead. I remember one of my friends at the time started crying hysterically at that point and I hugged her until she stopped, but I don't remember crying myself. Just sort of went through the rest of my day kinda of O_o and not really believing it until I got home and saw the disintegration footage on the news. Even so, I still thought that it kinda looked like a big bit of orange cotton candy and it was hard to realize that I had just in essence watched seven people die. I had the same problem a decade and a half later with 9/11 footage, something that didn't get fully brought home until a conversation I had with [livejournal.com profile] cell23 at Ground Zero a couple years ago. It's not so much you yourself seeing someone die on national TV - the fucked up part is everyone seeing it.

I always had this crazy fantasy that the stuffed frog somehow survived and went on to have adventures of its own, either at sea or in space. Mostly piratical ones. Occasionally I get it conflated with Cartman's Clyde Frog on South Park, either as the same frog or as some sort of slashy gay frog crossover romance. Yeah, my brain is weird like that.

Anyway, that's my tl;dr "where were you" moment. To Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis, Judith Resnik, Michael J. Smith, Dick Scobee, Ronald McNair and Christa McAuliffe, you are missed, and you are remembered.
anagramofbrat: (brat)
Something I ran across elsewhere on LJ alerted me to the fact that space officially lost its cool factor a quarter century ago today.

I very clearly remember Challenger, it was actually the first national disaster of sorts that I was reasonably sentient for. Enough to be affected by it, anyway. I was seven, in second grade, all excited because we all had been reading those Scholastic kids' newsletters about Christa McAuliffe (holy shit, I still remember her name) being the First Teacher In Space! and like most kids, thought her class was the luckiest in America. (Yeah, no.) Dad was also all excited about it because one of the crew was Ronald McNair, who happened to be a member of Omega Psi Phi and in the fashion of all black fraternities and their brothers, this was a Very Big Deal. I mean, regardless it was still a Big Deal, McNair being only the second African American in space ever with his previous Challenger mission in 1984.

Me being seven and still hazy on racial politics/dynamics (attending an international school where being American of any stripe/color was the minority you got teased about tended to blunt that a bit) my focus was on the teacher. One of the random little details mentioned in the newsletter profile was that she always carried a stuffed frog for luck, for some reason this is the one thing that still sticks in my head, even though I've seen it mentioned nowhere else since. Little things about a person tend to get lost when they perish in a space accident.

Thankfully I wasn't one of the kids instantly traumatized by watching the launch live. But I do remember my teacher being called out of the classroom by our principal for a few minutes during Reading Time, then coming back to tearfully announce that there had been an accident and all seven of Challenger's crew were dead. I remember one of my friends at the time started crying hysterically at that point and I hugged her until she stopped, but I don't remember crying myself. Just sort of went through the rest of my day kinda of O_o and not really believing it until I got home and saw the disintegration footage on the news. Even so, I still thought that it kinda looked like a big bit of orange cotton candy and it was hard to realize that I had just in essence watched seven people die. I had the same problem a decade and a half later with 9/11 footage, something that didn't get fully brought home until a conversation I had with [livejournal.com profile] cell23 at Ground Zero a couple years ago. It's not so much you yourself seeing someone die on national TV - the fucked up part is everyone seeing it.

I always had this crazy fantasy that the stuffed frog somehow survived and went on to have adventures of its own, either at sea or in space. Mostly piratical ones. Occasionally I get it conflated with Cartman's Clyde Frog on South Park, either as the same frog or as some sort of slashy gay frog crossover romance. Yeah, my brain is weird like that.

Anyway, that's my tl;dr "where were you" moment. To Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis, Judith Resnik, Michael J. Smith, Dick Scobee, Ronald McNair and Christa McAuliffe, you are missed, and you are remembered.

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