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Below are the most recent 25 friends' journal entries.
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| Tuesday, July 14th, 2009 |
westernactor
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10:12p |
Theatre: Southern Man and Yo Hot Mama(s)!, both Off-Off-Broadway at the Jewel Box Theatre as part of the Midtown International Theatre Festival |
| Monday, July 13th, 2009 |
westernactor
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11:59p |
Theatre: Family Symmetry Off-Off-Broadway at the Jewel Box Theatre as part of the Midtown International Theatre Festival |
| Tuesday, July 14th, 2009 |
chadu
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8:52p |
[s7s] Wiki, ho!
Once again, I would like to point out the S7S wiki, here: http://s7s.wikidot.com/Please add to the 7 Skies -- whatever thrills you, buckles your swash, makes you happy. That is what is it there for. |
jaylake
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4:19p |
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jaylake
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4:16p |
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jaylake
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4:13p |
[cancer] They found my oncologist on the coverage list
Well, today insurance has found my oncologist, thanks largely to the persistence of the medical administrator from my clinic. Apparently my doctor's fairly new at the clinic, and it takes a long time for the provider lists to update. Perhaps their computers are coal-fired. I've been warned it may be a month or more before claims for her services will be properly covered, but I've also been assured by both the clinic and the insurance company that once the system is straightened out everything will be rebilled dating back to my first visit with her. So a large hassle is now a small hassle. And we soldier bravely on. |
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oxforddnb_feed
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11:44p |
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derspatchel
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6:38p |
with Donald Sutherland as the clumsy waiter
NURSE: Leave her. Come back to Montana with me. ARCHITECT: I could no sooner run away from her than myself. NURSE: I'm not asking you to run. I'm asking you to face reality. ARCHITECT: Whose reality, yours or mine? NURSE: My reality and yours, that's whose! ARCHITECT: What are you saying? NURSE: Leave her! Come back to Montana with me! ARCHITECT: I could no sooner run away from her than myself! NURSE: I'm not asking you to run, I'm asking you to face reality! ARCHITECT: WHOSE REALITY? YOURS OR MINE?! NURSE: MY REALITY AND YOURS, THAT'S WHOSE! ARCHITECT: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! |
james_nicoll
|
4:34p |
The follow-up question
What is it with green-eyed Asian women in fantasy novels, anyway? Why green? It's not impossible (except under some sort of No True Scotsman rule) but green eyes appear to be very rare in Asian populations. Not that they are exactly common in other populations (leaving aside the People Who Have Green Eyes group, which have a high percentage of members with green eyes). [Added in a hurry] That turns out to be something you shouldn't google for images of if you are at work. |
nihilistic_kid
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12:37p |
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duchess_muse
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6:44p |
Holiday Retro
http://www.al-asfaar.org/themuse/holiday-retro I always feel a twinge of regret when I am on my way home after a holiday. It's a bit of sadness that the trip - vacation - fun is at an end, and a little wistfulness that it's time to be back at the normal routine. I feel this even when I want to be home - even if I didn't enjoy the trip. It's the end of the adventure that gets to me.
Friday, when we got home, I was ecstatic. None of the twinge. No regrets. I was ready to kiss the steps of the house. Instead, I just touched everything - the doors, the windows, the furniture. |
james_nicoll
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3:17p |
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james_nicoll
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2:53p |
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james_nicoll
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2:35p |
Baffled
Why do so few books on the Cold War mention the date when it became clear the Soviet Union was doomed (Sept. 28, 1972)? |
james_nicoll
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2:27p |
The problem with posts
Like this one is that although their efforts are charming in their way, Americans simply are not well equipped to engage in nationalist pissing matches like this one. Patriotic ones, sure, but for broad, sweeping triumphant claims about the primacy of one's nation in a particular field, you really need to go to a Canadian. |
crisper
|
8:05a |
Dream: The Annoying Dead
We were looking at houses. This one seemed just about right - good size, nice yard, nearby shopping - and we were starting to talk price when C looked out the window. "Is that... a zombie?" She pointed: a shambling form had emerged onto the street from a yard on the other side, draped in torn clothes, twitching and grunting in an all-too-familiar way. The realtor made a horrified face. "Oh... no! Certainly not. This is a nice neighborhood. There's no..." but just then, one of the neighbors came down the street in their car, striking the lurching form in the side and scattering it into pieces all over the place. The realtor put her face in her hands. "The city will have that cleaned up in no time, I promise," she tried hopefully. C shook her head and I nodded in agreement. "We're going to keep looking." Call us livists if you want to, but you know it's true: once a neighborhood starts getting one or two of the Dead, it's just a matter of time before the whole place is overrun. Humanity - living humanity, I mean - had been forced into a perpetual, irritated nomadic existence, always having to sell at a loss and buying somewhere else every time the Dead ruined another nice place. The last place we'd lived, it had gotten so that you couldn't even go out to your car to leave for work without mussing up your clothes and stumbling down your own driveway, groaning and spitting, pretending to be one of them so that they wouldn't rise from where they were all lying around - on your porch, in your flowerbed, draped over the hood of the car, in the gutter - and make a sudden lunge for your throat. Sure, you could shoot them in the head. But their putrescent remains were like a beacon for more of their kind. And there were sometimes unfortunate social side-effects of that solution. Once, at a Mardi Gras street party, two hideous, reeking figures had shambled out of the dark at me. "Are you alive?" I asked, repeatedly, but all they could do was mumble and shake. When one reached for me, I drew and put a pair of .45s into each of their heads. All the fresh red blood had been a tremendous shock and the crowd began to scream. They weren't Dead, they were just too drunk to make any sense. Manslaughter. That had been a pretty bad time, but at least there was a valuable lesson demonstrated: don't get so incapacitated in public that people can't distinguish you from a walking corpse. Anyway, as C and I got back in our car, I looked around and saw, yeah, the Dead were already here: in the dark shade of that tree, underneath that SUV, tucked in among those bushes. They were craftier, here, hiding themselves more effectively. You might not see them until you were right next to them and then they'd be right on top of you. Were we losing this war? Were they going to keep getting better and better at blending in until we could no longer spot them? I tried not to think about. We'd keep looking. We'd keep looking until we'd found a place where the Dead could never go. That's all we wanted. Really, I think, that's all anyone wants anymore. ------ For consideration: sub-conscious metaphors for the economy |
buymeaclue
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11:01a |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) fairmer reminded me that I wanted to link you guys something. You remember the trashiest book I ever read? Some poor sap over at Whitebrook Farm has posted a review of same. Less baffled than mine, and more righteously indignant: Jericho is a pain in the ass. He's actually someone I would like to run over with my car.I can't believe none of you have read this. Why do you want me to suffer alone? |
james_nicoll
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10:22a |
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nihilistic_kid
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7:11a |
This chat may be recorded for training purposes...
Last night I did a chat with the members of the Snutchlabs writing workshop, speaking mostly about the stories in You Might Sleep... (which you should buy, as thanks to the Wildside/Prime split I'm forced to repeatedly mention the book myself like a Whole Foods employee who for an hour has to pretend to be very excited about chicken apple sausages). We also discussed MFA programs, the alpha brainwave state, how to begin and end stories, and how Kurt Dinan's new haircut makes him look like a stick of roll-on deodorant.   I'm just sayin... Read the chat here. |
james_nicoll
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9:44a |
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james_nicoll
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9:33a |
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robin_d_laws
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9:20a |
Public Enemies: Developmental vs. Impressionistic Transitions
 Although Michael Mann’s Public Enemies raked in an acceptable box office haul and scored a fresh Tomatometer rating, the film—which I quite liked—has been the subject of much concern trolling in movie blog land. Allegedly it’s too arty, too redolent of the filmmaker’s personal vision, to justify its budget in an era of tentpoles and CGI giant robots. I’m still puzzling that out: the Public Enemies I saw follows the conventional arc of an outlaws on the run flick. Mann’s adoring HD camera lovingly serves up the movie star charisma.
( Mild spoilers... ) |
buymeaclue
|
9:05a |
emmy and the incredible shrinking rat
41. Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat (Lynne Jonell). From the flap: Emmy was a good girl. At least she tried very hard to be good.
She did her homework without being told. She ate all her vegetables, even the slimy ones. And she never talked back to her nanny, Miss Barmy, although it was almost impossible to keep quiet—some days.
Honestly, Emmy really was a little too good.
Which is why she liked to sit by the Rat.
The Rat was not good at all...If that makes you smile, read this book. You will like it. If not, you have no soul. Sorry! |
jaylake
|
4:07a |
[cancer] The magical land of health insurance
So let me start off by saying that my health insurance carrier has actually been quite supportive through the cancer experience thus far. Until the last few days, I've experience zero chain yanking and a great deal of positive, useful support from them, largely in the person of my cancer case manager. However, last week I got a coverage letter telling me my oncologist is out of network for my PPO plan. This triggers an entirely separate deductible process, wherein I have to pay the first $2,500 for out of network coverage, after which I then pay 30% of charges instead of my usual flat co-pay. That would mean another $2-3,000 out of my pocket this fall, given where everything is going. Finally got through to my case manager yesterday to discuss this. She verified they had no listing for my oncologist, and strongly advised me to find another oncologist. Long discussion about networks and coverage. My case manager was being as helpful as she could be within insurance company rules, but from my point of view, this whole thing is madness. They're already preparing to spend about $250,000 treating me, and they're barfing on $2,500 or so worth of doctor bills. Starting with the $279 sitting on my desk right now. I called the clinic at my primary hospital after I got off the phone with my case manager, to explore it from their end. For example, could they rebill, etc. The medical administrator there was quite surprised to hear that my oncologist was out of network. According to her, all the doctors at the clinic are in network with my carrier under a master contract. Long discussion about networks and coverage. Much frustration on my part. This gal is a Hero of the Revolution, so far as I am concerned, because she took my information and promised to call the health insurance company from the provider side and work through this. Still, what a mess. Health insurance reform isn't just about access, it's about sanity. Or at least it better damned well be. With the exception of almost being killed by ER triage last year (literally), my experiences with the healthcare delivery system have ranged from good to admirable. My experiences with the healthcare finance system have ranged from adequate to surreal. Also, in discussions with the case manager, we began reviewing the collateral medications associated with chemotherapy. I'm going to be a walking pharmacy before this is all over with. Anti-nausea, anti-inflammatory, anti-anxiety, et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum. My biggest concern about the chemo trip is preserving mental acuity, so I'm very dubious about steroidal anti-nausea drugs, as well as anything psychoactive such as anti-anxiety drugs. Upcoming I have another CT scan on 7/20. That's when we discover whether or not my lungs are a pair of tumor sacks. We'll also validate some of the other data and assumptions about liver and lymph. Unless something unexpected arises from that scan (or unless I have to switch oncologists for insurance reasons), I'll have my chemo prescribing appointment on 7/27. With luck, I can get the Harkonnen heart plug installed quickly enough to go to Worldcon while I'm recovering from that surgery, and begin the chemo when I get back. I've decided to leave further documentation of my emotional freakouts for another day. Plenty of more-or-less objective detail here now. More as it develops. |
jaylake
|
3:27a |
[process] Journey to the corner of the mind
On my walk this morning, along Big Papio Trail here in suburban Omaha, I saw fireflies. Interesting little suckers, those guys. The precise color and blink pattern varies by species. I know I saw at least two blink patterns. The trail is in a well developed area, along a watercourse greenbelt where I usually hear owls and nighthawks, but there's plenty of artificial light sources nearby. Sometimes I would confuse a distant streetlight flickering through tree leaves with the moving parallax of my own walking pace with a firefly. Fireflies are like stars, also. At least from a distance. Up close they're inescapable, and when one would flash very near to me, my eye would follow it automatically for the foot or two of flight before the flash went off. Farther away, they were easier to see out of the corner of my eye. The best way to spot them was to gaze ahead, unfocused, as I followed the trail, and pay careful attention to my peripheral vision. In doing this I found another effect. I was perceiving occasional flashes of white light from above. This morning the cloud cover was pretty low and dense, producing a very desultory rain as I walked. I finally decided there was a higher-altitude lightning storm, and I was seeing the flashes masked by the low-altitude cloud deck. But I never would have seen any of that if I hadn't been using the edges of my perception to watch the fireflies. The creative process is like that. Staring at an idea can be very informative, but it can also overexpose the concept and blind you to deeper, more obscure nuances. Working from the corners, through misdirection and lateral perception, can open you up to things you would never have noticed in the bright light of day. Corners have always been a lot more interesting to me than middles. Early this morning, I learned a little bit more about why. |
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