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My vocal range is 2.5 octaves on days when the weather is bad and I don't warm up, which is most of them. I can harmonize with just about anything, but I'm shy about improvising melodies unless I'm sure everybody wants me to. (I get the opposite of stage fright: offstage fright.) When I hit a note really badly, I try to hit it really badly with confidence.
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I wasn't ever a great sporstwoman, but in the days of compulsory gym class, I tended to win endurance races. I know how to pace myself and how to push through.
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I like long meals and very short ones. I love stories that star close friends but aren't principally about their friendship.
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It doesn't come up much, but I can draw. My storyboards look like layout-constrained indie comics, but all the people have blank faces because I don't want to prejudge the emotional instincts of the actors.
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I'm sappy enough that in a genie lamp situation I'd wish for peace on earth, goodwill toward men, and an end to hunger. I always write thank-you notes.
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I'm a hobbyist at outdated forms of encryption. I love games, which I tend to simultaneously win and detourn.
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I'm a skeptical but optimistic futurist, often mistaken for someone famous (nobody says who).

New Lingo

Dec. 13th, 2014 08:04 pm
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My sister has coined the term "low-falutin" to describe the situation of being in an environment for which one is insufficiently fancy.
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I sleep beside a dragon cache of coins and rubies.
rinue: (eyecon)
Malware on my work computer again; I'm going to have to spend tomorrow waiting for I.T. to contact me, and then probably wipe the machine and spend four hours reinstalling everything. I can see how, rationally, I should embrace this as a sort of vacation, something that definitely falls into a "not my problem" field, something that lets me hang out and listen to podcasts and still get paid. But I find it excruciating. This is the third time in the last four months*, and I am surrounded by broken things in all the not-work areas of my life. I just want to go in and do my very stressful job** and not have it disrupted by anything.

I am at least cheered by finally hearing an explanation of ad-bot fraud. Before now, I couldn't understand the point of most malware. Why soup up some random person's registry with a bunch of downloaders? It didn't make sense. But in fact there is a reason for doing this: you create malware that acts that way because you are paid to generate extra traffic for a website or group of websites, culminating in extra ad dollars. This closes a satisfying loop for me, because most viruses don't seem to get to you because you click something; they're coming through scripts on banner ads. But also, the asshole who trashes random computers because he needs computers is a very different asshole from the asshole who trashes random computers because he likes making random strangers miserable. It's still obnoxious as hell, but a less No Country For Old Men obnoxious as hell.

* I'm running a very old version of Internet Explorer which is full of security holes. I am not allowed to download another browser. I am not allowed to update it or in any way modify it. I can theoretically update it at a future date, but only if I also do a bundle of other updates, which I am not authorized do until I am issued a new microphone, because of driver issues that have nothing to do with Internet Explorer. I won't have a new microphone until the company negotiates a better deal with a company that sells the kind of microphone we need.

** I don't know whether I've talked about it here particularly, but the kind of live-to-air captioning I do requires most of the same skills and produces most of the same stresses as air traffic control, to the extent that the company's about to start screening recruits using the same tests used for air traffic controllers. It's also like being a Jeopardy contestant; you have to know everything about everything and be able to spit it out very quickly. And on top of that, you have to practice intense, unwavering emotional suppression, because you cannot allow your voice to distort when something awful happens. Monday, for instance, I finished my day with the account of an unspeakably grisly lynching. Which of course I spoke, perfectly and without pause.
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I'm avant garde, but in a way that isn't ostentatious. More like the muddy scout nudging through brush to find places that aren't swamp.
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Postorbital just hit 100 subscribers. (None of 'em adbots; all verified real people who aren't trying to sell me anything.) Some recent updates (not remotely the most popular ones, just some that I like):

"Everyone wore shirts like nylon billboards, sleep-recorded dream images trembling across their chests."
(Nov 21)

"On second look, it wasn’t eyeliner, but a second set of eyelids, black and bionic. When we stepped into the sun, she blinked them into place."
(Nov 9)

"Hill cities were like islands; you would no sooner leave one by foot than walk into the sea. Travel past a curtain wall was airborne and remained above the pathogen line. Rumors passed from older to younger children that sirens lived in the valleys, mermaids who lured men into the waterless ocean and infected them with flesh-eaters. Adults knew mermaids weren’t necessary. Those who descended from the mountaintops, they called drowned."
(Aug 31)

"It’s a strange experience to watch Luli as she works the pedals of her drone, parrot claws dropping and pulling the levers. I ask her if she can explain what she’s doing; “original flying bird,” she squawks, one of her favorite phrases."
(Aug 26)

On the other side of science fiction, I just re-read my blog entry about problems with police privelege in the court system from back in April. Note how much time I felt I had to spend at the beginning convincing people there was a problem that ought to be addressed. And maybe I still do, I don't know.
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I'm a ramshackle clown with a killer gumbo recipe.
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I make pleasant conversation about the weather and have strange ideas about rhyme schemes.
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I like embroidery, stick shifts, strong coffee, and sleeping late.
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I'm a green-eyed board game nerd who dresses like an anime AU of the wild west.
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I can light a scene with two lamps and a reflector. I can use red dots to make a letter levitate on the page.
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I'm a half-elven songwriter with yellowbelts in judo and kung fu.


Nov. 21st, 2014 11:33 pm
rinue: (Cathedral)
I've been corresponding a bit with a writer named Gabriel Squailia (this guy), who is working on a novel series called Claw and Fist that involves some magically-denominated currency. Interesting stuff. I can't say much more about it because it's not my story, but I've had fun poking around and saying "what about..."

Ciro and I are seeing very little of each other right now; his school hours and my day job hours don't overlap much, and we each have a lot to take care of when we're nominally "off the clock." It's like being briefly long distance again but in the same house. Many houseguests coming for Thanksgiving; maybe they can carry messages.
rinue: (plunge)
I've stepped down as poetry co-editor of Strange Horizons after a couple solid years with increasing operational budgets and 2 Hugo nominations (which we didn't win and the poetry department likely had little to do with). I still like the magazine and will probably be tangentially involved for another few months, in that I've accepted works that haven't run yet.

I think in my secret heart of hearts I aspire to be the eccentric wealthy shut in from A Little Princess, who mainly prefers to withdraw from the world except when he whimsically decides to lavishly remodel a total stranger's attic without warning or explanation. This is a tricky aspiration as concerns longstanding institutional power.
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