16 February 2026 @ 11:04 am
and then read the books, and I gotta say, I think the author and I fundamentally disagree on a key principle of storywriting.

I believe, strongly, that if you have two viewpoint characters, or two love interests, or two viewpoint characters who are also love interests, then they need to have balanced problems - and, ideally, the interaction of those two characters should affect those problems in some way - by making them realize that they have problems, by making them realize that those problems aren't so bad, by solving or exacerbating those problems - who knows? But they need to start off with the same level of problems, and then by the end of the plot those problems need to have been changed in some way.

And pretty much that never happens in these books. Just look at the two that make up the TV show. We have two couples.

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This opinion on problems was brought to you by: The Overnight Shift! I have so much time on my hands, guys!
 
 
15 February 2026 @ 10:48 am
Why am I better than all other men?
I do not have to prove it. I admit it.
Here is the nail, and I am here to hit it.
A blow that glances somewhat now and then.
With pure intention I take up the pen
That writes the truth, if any ever writ it.
Venom is vulgar. I decline to spit it.
Still if I must—Well, nine times out of ten

I do. I am tired. That book must be a bore.
Jones wrote it. He was rude to me at lunch,
And nobody quite likes him in our bunch.
Smith said he liked my novel. In my bones
I feel that I like Smith. But more and more
My conscience tells me to eviscerate Jones.


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Link
 
 
14 February 2026 @ 06:18 pm
The 1916 (Olympic) games were cancelled due to an international dispute occurring during that year

A dispute that left millions dead, sure. Not how I'd describe WWI, but okay.

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12 February 2026 @ 07:52 am
Still haven't seen Heated Rivalry but I glanced at one of the books in a bookstore last night, and realised that I had the characters backwards! Based on pictures, I'd assumed that the dark-haired one was Ilya Rozanov and the ginger one was Shane Hollander. I'd figured that Rozanov was part Kazakh (or could well have been part Korean, like Viktor Tsoi) – but the guy who actually turns out to be playing Rozanov doesn't look Slavic to me at all. I can only see him as having a severe case of American Canadian Actor Face. This has been an interesting collision of racial assumptions.
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12 February 2026 @ 12:38 am
National Craft Month – March 2026

In March, it’s the end of winter and a great time to blossom outward into National Craft Month to show what you’ve been making by hand during the short, cold days of the season past.

Admittedly, the word “crafting” covers a whole lot of territory. At one time, the word “craft” was synonymous with “trade,” meaning skilled labor in a particular area, such as weaving, engine repair, carpentry, etc. It was not uncommon for guilds to be founded based upon a shared set of skills in these and other areas of production. But in current times we’ve come to understand that “crafting” refers to those skills practiced more creatively and with a vision unique to each artisan. Some examples are knitting and crocheting, scrapbooking, leatherworking, wood burning, fly tying, jewelry making, anything created by hand that has an artistic aspect to it but is not strictly “fine art.”



What are your craft plans for March? I've got several possibilities but haven't decided which to try next month.

[community profile] allbingo will be running this fest in March:
[recurring]
National Craft Month Fest hosted by [personal profile] nsfwords
This is a fest focusing on the myriad joys (and frustrations) of Crafting.
Posting will be March 1-30.
 
 
Current Mood: busy
 
 
12 February 2026 @ 03:09 pm
How much do you love me, a million bushels?
Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more.

And tomorrow maybe only half a bushel?
Tomorrow maybe not even a half a bushel.

And is this your heart arithmetic?
This is the way the wind measures the weather.


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Link
 
 
What the hell sort of question is that? Of course I'd pay up! I have money, pride, and my teeth, and of the three, I can least afford to lose the last. Wouldn't almost anybody submit to the shakedown? That's how protection rackets work, after all - everybody does the same math and comes to the same conclusion as I just did.

(Of course, the context was "I think this company was rude to me over the phone, therefore I decided to live without hot water and heating because I have my principles" so, you know, I guess we have different approaches to life?)

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10 February 2026 @ 09:25 am
Cut for poop )

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09 February 2026 @ 10:47 am
(Mission Rejected, if you're curious)

and they took the time at the start of the most recent episode to talk about a charity in Minnesota that will bring food safely to people. I don't have the name of the charity, it's not on their website right now.

But what really struck me is that they spent a few minutes on this and never once mentioned or even alluded to why some people might need food to be delivered safely.

I'm not sure what I think about that, but I'm sure I don't like it much.

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09 February 2026 @ 10:47 am
Or is something up with the create entry page?
 
 
What witchcraft is this?

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07 February 2026 @ 08:48 am
The wave yearns at the cliff foot: its pale arms
        Reach upward and relapse, like down-dropped hands;
The baffled tides slip backward evermore,
        And a long sighing murmurs round the sands . . .

My heart is as the wave that lifts and falls:
       Tall is the cliff—oh! tall as that dim star
That crowns its summit hidden in a cloud—
       Tall as the dark and holy heavens are.

The sad strange wreckage of full many ships
        Burdens the bitter waters’ ebb and flow:
Gold diadems, like slowly falling flames,
        Lighten the restless emerald gulfs below;

And withered blossoms float, and silken webs,
        And pallid faces framed in wide-spread hair,
And bubble-globes that seethe with peacock hues,
        And jewelled hands, half-open, cold and fair.

Sea creatures move beneath: their swift sleek touch
       Begets sweet madness and unworthy fire—
Scaled women—triton-things, whose dark seal eyes
        Are hot and bloodshot with a man’s desire.

Their strange arms clasp: the sea-pulse in their veins
       Beats like the surf of the immortal sea—
Strong, glad and soulless: elemental joys
       Bathe with green flame the sinking soul of me.

Downward and down—to passionate purple looms,
        Athrill with thought-free, blurred, insatiate life,
Where the slow-throbbing sea-flow sways like weed
        Dim figures blended in an amorous strife—

I am enclasped, I sink; but the wave lifts,
        With all its freight of treasure and of death,
In sullen foamless yearning towards the height
        Where the star burns above the vapour-wreath;

And a deep sob goes up, and all the caves
        Are filled with mourning and a sorrow-sound.
The green fire fades: I rise: I see the star—
        Gone are the triton arms that clipped me round.

Hope beats like some lost bird against the cliff—
        The granite cliff above the burdened wave,
Whose fleeting riches are more desolate
        Than gems dust-mingled in a nameless grave . . .

When all the wordless thirsts of Time are slaked,
        And all Earth’s yearning hungers sweetly fed,
And the Sea’s grief is stilled, and the Wind’s cry,
        And Day and Night clasp on one glowing bed—

Oh! in that hour shall clay and flame be blent—
        Love find its perfect lover, breast on breast—
When dream and dreamer at the last are one,
        And joy is folded in the arms of jest.


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