May 26th, 2013


[links] Link salad flies home from the mountains of the desert Southwest

New Entries into Old Conversations — Cora Buhlert on trends in SF.

Songs of Empowerment CDSince 2007 music has been essential in healing from my cancer. I want to make a cd featuring my songs of healing and donate them to cancer groups and patients. (Via [info]danjite.)

Time travel: BOAC's skycot for infants, 1953 — Whoa. Why did this ever seem like a good idea? (Snurched from Daily Idioms, Annotated.)

Google Considering 'Wireless Balloons' to Deliver Internet to Countries

Google Glass Won't Work in the Enterprise: 10 Reasons Why

Why did our ancestors start walking upright? Ancient terrain may hold clue.A study suggests that rocky landscapes in East and South Africa could have pushed our apelike ancestors toward bipedalism. Brachiation, we like brachiation...

Fuel Cells Could Offer Cheap Carbon-Dioxide StorageA new type of fuel cell could make CO2 storage cheaper, but it could also prove to be a good way to pump more oil out of the ground. This seems to have the potential to be a multiple win.

Arctic AmplificationWhy are temperatures warming faster in the Arctic than the rest of the world? Remember kids, global warming is a liberal plot. The overwhelming accumulation of "facts" and "data" is just a reality-based scam.

Media Ignores Climate Change Background of Increased Flooding — That's because media outlets that engage in reality-based reporting are quite rightly accused of liberal bias. The conservative narrative is just that: a narrative. It doesn't survive contact with the facts on the ground.

Francis’ Humility and Emphasis on the Poor Strike a New Tone at the Vatican — Until he does something substantive about the pedophilia crisis, including the high level coverups, the rest of this is just smoke and mirrors.

Congressman Who Gets Millions In Farm Subsidies Denounces Food Stamps As Stealing ‘Other People’s Money’ — As I have often said, conservatism is both a failure of imagination and empathy. These days wrapped in righteous self-valorization. (Snurched from Slacktivist Fred Clark.)

QotD?: Did you travel this weekend?

Writing time yesterday: 1.0 hours (WRPA, otherwise on workshop time)
Hours slept: 6.25 hours (fitful)
Body movement: n/a
Weight: n/a
Number of FEMA troops on my block scamming disaster aid slush funds: 0
Currently reading: A Hatful of Sky by Terry Pratchett


[travel|cancer] Going home today, various other thoughts

I am flying home from Rio Hondo today. (Well, actually, we are driving from here to Taos to Santa Fe to Albuquerque, then I'm flying home from there. I will be about 17 hours door-to-door in transit.) I have been extremely happy to be here, but it will be nice to get back to a decent amount of O2 in my lungs. At this altitude I am always short of breath, sometimes extremely so. And always a bit fatigued. There has been much critique, much discussion of writing and publishing, a certain amount of writer gossip, some strongly personal conversations, way too much excellent food (if that is indeed possible) and not enough sleep all around.

Ever since the terminal diagnosis I've been bouncing around like a superball inside a paint shaker. The Nebs, then here. Now home again. All this busy-ness has kept my fear somewhat at bay, but it creeps in. I am also now scheduled for a CT scan on Tuesday, which always lends its own special terror to my inner life. I've been able to forget the fear for swathes of time as I've been so immersed in writers and writing culture, but I am afraid.

Very afraid.

Lie awake at night in bed afraid. Burst into tears occasionally afraid.

Most people don't really want to die. And few of us get to plan our deaths. At least not at my age. Yesterday, talking to my dear friend John Pitts on the phone, he asked what I'd done about planning my funeral. These are the conversations I have these days. Sometimes I despair.

Then I look around, go back to my writing or my friends or a good book, and keep going. I cannot live on fear and despair, and I don't like giving them power over me. These are my days. I try to spend them well.

Which is what I have been doing here at Rio Hondo, among friends and writing. Spending my diminishing ration of days well.