But seriously? The complaints were all about details of Doctor Who canon which is like complaining about such things in, say, fic for Marvel comics (or DC comics). If you look far enough, you can find supporting canon for pretty much any sort of bizarre thing you want to throw in. One of the comments tried to tell me that regeneration only ever happens when a Time Lord is near death. But Romana canonically does it just because she feels like it when she goes from Romana I to Romana II. Another said that the Tardis doesn't ever get rid of rooms or move them.
So I'm now at the point of laughing. I have no idea what this person expected. Are they trying to prove that I'm not a trufan? Are they trying to humiliate me into never writing again? Do they actually think that this sort of thing is helpful and that I'll thank them and worship their wondrous grasp of canon? (I doubt it because they commented as a guest.)
For anyone who's new here: I have bipolar I, which means that I spend significant periods of time depressed. I also cycle very quickly sometimes, so I can go from elated to suicidal within a single day or the course of hours. Needless to say, besides sucking in its own right, it makes writing, which I think of as a somewhat neurosis-inducing career , an additional challenge.
 I am pretty sure there are non-neurotic writers out there! But I am literally, professionally diagnosed crazy, and I have spent time in the psych ward for suicide attempts, so...
When writing gets hard, it comes down to routines. Writing is easy when it's a fire in the mind and the words blaze to be let down on paper (or typed into the computer, or whatever--I write both longhand and on a computer depending on my mood or the particular project). But inspiration is completely unreliable, especially when depression comes calling.
My routine goes something like this. Note that I don't claim that this works for everyone! Just this is what I do, and it more or less works for me. Sometimes better than others.
1. Get out of bed. Sometimes this is the hardest step.
2. Get food into myself. I have this rule that no writing happens until I have eaten something, even an oatmeal packet. Bodies are weird (or anyway, mine is! maybe yours is perfectly fine :p). If my blood sugar drops, I turn into a depressed suicidal wreck. I find this completely maddening considering that I'm overweight so you'd think that I could survive for a couple extra hours off fat reserves, but nope! Not so lucky. So I try to remember to eat at intervals. Even so, there's this period in the late afternoon/early evening where I usually have to take a break from writing no matter when I started because my blood sugar is too low for me to concentrate. (This is usually because I'm trying to time dinner to be convenient for my husband and daughter. If it were just me, I would eat smaller meals every four hours and that might work better.)
3. Get exercise. Sometimes I skip this, but I read somewhere that you should try to do the most important things first in your daily routine. I figure exercise is more essential than writing, or anyway, it should be higher priority. Also, I sort of cheat in that right now I'm mostly doing the world's wimpiest exercise biking, on a bike that has a built-in desk, and I use that time either to do reading (right now I'm beta reading for someone, for instance), or write fanfic. I could even use that time to do work-writing rather than fanfic-writing. It all depends.
4. Get shower. Because I am so wimpy, even wimpy exercise-biking leaves me drenched in sweat.
5. Make tea. I allow myself one cup of caffeinated tea a day. Right now that's a Republic of Tea black tea flavored with almond, which honestly I don't like all that much--I tried it out of curiosity and discovered the almond flavor didn't agree with me. So when the tin runs out I'll switch it for some other black tea. After that runs out, I start making herbal teas instead. Too much caffeine can trigger mania or hypomania, or just generally screw with my sleep (and screwing with sleep can mess with bipolar cycling--it's a whole Thing), so I try to not to overdo it.
6. Settle in to write. I turn on iTunes, set the whole thing to Shuffle, and attempt to write at least one sentence/song. Most songs are pop/rock songs of 3-4 minutes. This is not a recipe for blazing fast writing. What it is, is conditioning. My brain gets the idea that every time we switch to a new song, I should get back in gear and get writing. My philosophy is that slow and steady wins the race. I don't produce words particularly fast--I know there are fast writers out there, but I'm never going to be one of them. But I do believe that accumulating words a little at a time consistently will also work.
One of my problems is low morale, and a related problem is being intimidated by high goals. So I set low goals. One sentence during a song of that length is eminently doable. In fact, spurred by one thought, I usually end up writing more than one sentence. And that's good! Likewise, when I am at my most depressed--when I can barely string two thoughts together, or when I feel like everything I have ever written is completely worthless, I set my goals very low. As in 250 words/day low. These days I have novels to write so I can't do that forever, but even 250 words/day is better, in terms of sustaining momentum, than 0 words/day. It's simple mathematics. If you write 250 words/day, you can eventually write a novel, even if it takes you a while. Whereas with 0 words/day? You'll never get there.
This is not to say that you should never take a break! I have 0-word days. Weekends are usually dead time because I have family obligations. Sometimes the depression is just too much to deal with. But there is a difference between occasionally taking a break, and never writing. The latter is what I seek to avoid.
In the meantime: what helps you when you're dealing with doubt or depression? Tell me one thing you like about your own writing, if you like. :)
Do I be happy or sad? I can't tell.
Unfortunately, all the Freshman shows whose renewals I'm antsy about-Powerless, Timeless, and Emerald City-are NBC, and it doesn't look goof for any of them.
(It's a really nice idea, though. I may actually write it one day.)
Btw, we've found our host for May - many thanks to miss_morland! We'll be continuing over at hers next month. :)
Notes for the above, and about 150 words of dialogue. (And then I fell down the hyperlink abyss. I didn't even mean to do research, I was just quickly looking something up! But that's how it always goes, isn't it ...)
( Days 1 - 20 )
Day 21 (LJ | DW): afrozenflowerr, auroracloud, doctor_jehane, esteliel, miss_morland, navaan, sylvanwitch, trobadora, ysilme, zippitgood (10 out of 14)
Day 22 (LJ | DW): auroracloud, doctor_jehane, esteliel, miss_morland, navaan, sylvanwitch, trobadora, ysilme, zippitgood (9 out of 14)
Day 23 (LJ | DW): auroracloud, doctor_jehane, esteliel, miss_morland, navaan, sylvanwitch, trobadora, ysilme, zippitgood (9 out of 14)
Day 24 (LJ | DW): auroracloud, doctor_jehane, esteliel, miss_morland, navaan, ofmonstrouswords, sylvanwitch, trobadora, ysilme, zippitgood (10 out of 14)
Day 25 (LJ | DW): auroracloud, dreamflower02, esteliel, miss_morland, navaan, sylvanwitch, trobadora, ysilme (8 out of 14 so far)
Let me know if I missed anyone! And remember you can join in or drop in/out at any time. :)
Rusty Puppy by Joe Lansdale. The twelfth book in the thriller/mystery/action series Hap & Leonard, this one picks up immediately where the previous one left off – which is good, since that previous one ended on a hell of a cliffhanger, with Hap seemingly in the middle of dying. Well, he's all better now and while I didn't particularly expect the series to kill off its narrator and co-protagonist, I really could have used some more resolution to that particular plot development.
Ah, well. I don't read these books for their subtle plotting, I read them because the banter between Hap and Leonard never fails to make me laugh. For example:
"You do look cool in that fedora.” [Hap said to Leonard]
“Like I value your opinion.”
“But you do.”
“So you like it?” he said.
“Stylish, brother. You found something that works for you. I know how hard that must be for you.”
“You’re still searching, though,” Leonard said. “Your daughter doing okay?”
“That’s working out?”
“Except she and Brett [Hap's girlfriend] have the colds from hell. I think it might be flu. Brett actually asked that I stay at the office tonight. They are seriously infectious. And I don’t want that shit they got.”
“But you don’t mind sharing their germs with me?”
“I don’t have a single symptom,” I said. “And I’m keeping it that way. I’m actually kind of enjoying being on my own at the office. Well, there’s Buffy [the dog]. It’s nice for a change of pace. Me and Buffy can play checkers until late at night. She hasn’t quite got chess down yet.”
“You can stay at my place, asshole.”
“I’m fine at the office. John and you might get back together, and I’d rather not hear you fucking behind the wall. I can’t enjoy that. I keep thinking something is in the wrong hole.”
“Long as I’ve known you, you are still bothered by it?”
“Not the gay, just the act. I don’t want to hear it going on.”
“That’s the same.”
“How do you feel about heterosexuality?”
“Nothing against it, but it makes me kind of go eeew.”
“Now you get it.”
“I’m going to tell Brett you referred to her equipment as a hole.”
“I was just speaking in a general way.”
“Please don’t,” I said.
“I’ll consider on it,” he said.
In this book, they investigate the murder of Jamar, a young man supposedly beaten to death in a drug deal gone wrong, but whose mother swears that something more is going on. The plot expands to include a conspiracy of crooked cops, the sexual harassment of Jamar's sister, an illegal boxing ring, an abandoned sawmill, a bunch of incompetent hitmen, Leonard's new boyfriend, a sleazy lawyer, and a deliciously creepy explanation for the phrase 'rusty puppy'. There's a slender feel to all of it, like much of it is only there to provide a setup for the fanservice-y climax wherein Hap and Leonard are forced to publically fight each other to the death. But since I quite enjoy a bit of well-done fanservice, that's not really a criticism.
Speaking of, I also loved the new character of an eight-year-old girl who becomes involved in the mystery (warning for various language issues):
The little girl came over. “You think you’re bad, don’t you?” She said this to Leonard.
“Baby girl, I don’t think, I know I’m bad.”
“Them boys hold grudges,” she said.
“Do they now? Well, that’s going to worry me for days. Who the hell are you? ”
“Reba. I was named after a white lady that sings.”
“Yeah?” Leonard said.
“Mama liked that cracker shit. I don’t. I like me some real music. I mainly go by Little Woman.”
“You just made that up,” Leonard said.
“Startin’ now, then.”
“I like Reba,” Leonard said. “I mean the singer, if that’s who you’re talking about. You I don’t like at all, you little snot-nosed pile of rat shit.”
“Leonard,” I said. “Kid.”
“This ain’t no kid. That there is a fucking four-hundred-year-old midget vampire.”
“Fuck you,” Reba said.
“Fuck you too,” Leonard said.
“You ain’t black at all?”
“What the fuck color am I? This look like shoe polish to you?”
“Uncle Tom is your color.”
“Yeah, well, you want to stay in the goddamn projects and wear your own shower cap and house shoes and whine about the Man keeping you down, you go on and do it. Me, I spit in the Man’s fucking face, tell him it’s face wash, and he’s got to like it.”
“I hope you get et up by a tiger,” she said, walking away.
“Not likely,” Leonard said.
“Leonard, really? You’re going to pick a fight with a kid?”
“She started it. Ancient midget-ass motherfucking vampire.” He yelled out to her then. “I hope your fucking tricycle has a flat.”
She kept walking away, and without looking back, she stuck her hand up in a fist, extended her middle finger.
I suspect (and sincerely hope) that she will become a recurring character, which makes me very happy. Though really I want Leonard to adopt her so they become a mean angry kick-ass family of crime solvers.
It's not a deep book, but sometimes deep is not what I want. For funny, light-hearted entertainment, you could hardly do better.
I read this as an ARC via NetGalley.
Mr. Potter by Jamaica Kincaid. A hard book to review, mainly because it doesn't really have a plot and barely has characters and it isn't even entirely clear as to which genre it belongs – memoir or novel – though the one thing it is closer to than anything else is poetry.
Let me demonstrate with the opening paragraph:
And that day, the sun was in its usual place, up above and in the middle of the sky, and it shone in its usual way so harshly bright, making even the shadows pale, making even the shadows seek shelter; that day the sun was in its usual place, up above and in the middle of the sky, but Mr. Potter did not note this, so accustomed was he to this, the sun in its usual place, up above and in the middle of the sky; if the sun had not been in its usual place, that would have made a great big change in Mr. Potter's day, it would have meant rain, however briefly such a thing, rain, might fall, but it would have changed Mr. Potter's day, so used was he to the sun in its usual place, way up above and in the middle of the sky. Mr. Potter breathed in his normal way, his heart was beating in its normal way, up and down underneath the covering of his black skin, up and down underneath his white knitted cotton vest next to his very black skin, up and down underneath his plainly woven white cotton shirt that was on top of the knitted cotton vest which lay next to his skin; so his heart breathed in its normal way. And he put on his trousers and in the pocket of his trousers he placed a white handkerchief; and all this was as normal as the way his heart beat; all this, his putting on his clothes in just that way, as normal as the way his heart beat, the heart beating normally and the clothes reassuring to Mr. Potter and to things beyond Mr. Potter, things that did not know they needed such reassurance.
The entire book goes on this way, full of repetitions and a focus on oddly specific little details while the larger picture is left vague, only gestured at rather than depicted. Certain phrases occur over and over again throughout the book until they take on the feeling of a chorus or chant: a line drawn through him; Mr. Potter was my father, my father's name was Mr. Potter; Mr. Potter was born in nineteen hundred and twenty-two and he died in nineteen hundred and ninety-two; Mr. Potter could not read and Mr. Potter could not write. The story, such as it is, is about Roderick Potter, a poor chauffeur on Antigua: his parents (his father who never acknowledged him and his mother who committed suicide when he was young), the man who owns the car Mr. Potter drives (from Lebanon, with his own tragic history of exile), one of his customers (Dr. Weizenger, about whose past we never learn more than that he is fleeing Prague in the 1940s, but really, what more is there to say than that? – to say someone is fleeing Prague in the 1940s is to say exactly what they're fleeing from), Mr. Potter's own many illegitimate children, one of whom grows up to be a writer and becomes the narrator of this book. More than a story, it's a lyrical observation of colonialism, racism, poverty, sexism and broken families, tragedies carried down the generations, all the general global and individual ills of every life, and the ability – or the lack of it – to recognize and articulate such problems. And, most of all, whose voice will be heard doing so.
I think I liked it, overall, though it's a weird book to grapple with. It's a very good example of a very particular thing, but if a 150 page prose poem about the narrator's unknown harsh-but-suffering father doesn't sound appealing, I don't think the actual experience of Mr. Potter will change your mind.
Mount TBR update: 14!
What are you currently reading?
Blood & Beauty by Sarah Dunant. A novel about the Borgias from my favorite melodramatic historical fiction author!
The Price of War by shuofthewind is a massive retelling of the first season of the Daredevil Netflix series, with the addition of Darcy Lewis, who never met Jane and Thor and ends up becoming a lawyer. I loved that this story had a lot more female characters than the original version, but was sad that Karen's character gets less to do because it's Darcy's story now. There is eventual Darcy Lewis/Matt Murdock. My interest in the story lagged a bit once the romance kicked in, but I still enjoyed all the comics (616) characters who appeared.
I watched that movie when I was 2 or 3 in the 1980’s; I'm just surprised someone else knows about it, since very few people I have encountered ever have. Right around that same time, I discovered both Unico movies. And around that same time was The Little Mermaid (also anime; this one, not another from the same time frame) and The Last Unicorn (which wasn’t as surreal as the others). Is it any wonder I am the way I am, and go for the darker (and possibly on the weirder side) fairy tale stuff?
(It explains a lot. Granted, back then I sort of liked the evil Hecuba from that version of Jack And The Beanstalk, and found Jack to be the weird one.)
Meanwhile, checking on the poll in the previous locked (only on Dreamwidth) post: So far, it’s at a tie between people just wanting to vote, and people in favor of a Gothic Horror/Romance community; second place is do both. I forgot to mention that the poll will continue through Saturday evening.
The chores I did yesterday were enough to make the tendinitis act up again, so I'm not looking forward to the walking I'll have to do today. Right now, my plan is to take a cab to UHS, get lunch somewhere nearby after the appointment, hang out somewhere (Espresso Royale, probably) until about 2:00 and then get the bus to the hospital. PT is 2:45 to 3:45, so I'll just wait for Scott to be able to pick me up after work. I really ought to make a lunch and take it with me, but I don't want to deal with that.
I've tried ice on the tendon. That hurts all the way up my leg. Right now, I'm applying heat. That's making my calf muscle ache, too, but I'm hoping it will loosen the dratted thing up enough that I can stretch it properly.
My left elbow has started giving me trouble. The pain is at the back of the joint and fairly pinpoint. It is, sadly, probably more tendinitis. I think it's stress from trying to compensate for not using my hands in the ways I normally would.
I didn't go with Scott and Cordelia to Cordelia's PT appointment yesterday. I was so very, very tired that I thought that staying home was a good idea. I haven't generally had the option, so that was nice.
Scott's avoiding pork products now. I'm not sure if he's going to try one more time to make sure that he didn't just have a bug last weekend or if he's just cutting all of that permanently. I think that, if it is an allergy, one more exposure won't make it suddenly as bad as the beef allergy, but I know that such things get worse with more exposure, so this isn't going to be something he can indulge in occasionally.
I'm working on clearing out all of the frozen stuff we've got that contains pork. Scott buys potstickers and spring rolls frequently, and he never looks to see what's in them as long as they don't say 'beef' on the front. It's resulted a few times in me not having easy options for feeding Cordelia's Muslim friends, so I've learned to check the freezer ahead of when I expect to have them over to see if I need to make Scott go out and buy something that will be okay.
- Republican Oversight Leader: Michael Flynn Apparently Broke the Law
- EXCLUSIVE: Sebastian Gorka’s Ties To Nazi-Allied Group Stretch Back Decades
- Senate Russia probe flounders amid partisan bickering
- Senate Trump-Russia Probe Has No Full-Time Staff, No Key Witnesses
- Macron Victim of Cyber Attack Similar to U.S. Democratic Party’s
- Donald Trump, Jr., retweeting Nigel Farage endorsing Marine Le Pen. Global. White. Nationalist. Authoritarianism. Movement.
- A GOP Lawmaker Has Been Revealed As The Creator Of Reddit’s Anti-Woman ‘Red Pill’ Forum
- And here it is, the NH state rep and founder of The Red Pill talking about why he should get to sleep with underage girls
- Donald Trump to strip all funding from State Department team promoting women's rights around the world
- Inside The Online Community Of Men Who Preach Removing Condoms Without Consent
Corruption and farce:
- House Oversight Committee calls on Trump’s business to prove he’s not violating the Constitution
- Ivanka Trump adds a chief of staff
- Report: Trump won't fire Spicer because 'the guy gets great ratings'
- Gay men detained in Chechnya give accounts of abuse, electrocution
- President of Chechnya Intends to Eliminate All Gay Men There by Ramadan
And three unsorted:
- Trump’s Sanctuary Cities Order Blocked by Federal Judge
- Resilience of the Resistance
- May Benefits as Britain's Pro-Brexit Party Loses Supporters
( It's April 26th, 2017; this is the news )
Comes Sandy one morn to say that The Fearsome Strand, that is my novel of wreckers and sea-monsters, does extreme well, and the publishers are exceeding anxious for anything else I might give 'em.
I sigh and say, 'tis gratifying, but has he had a chance to look over the plays I gave him?
Indeed, says he, as Celeste comes with coffee and shortbreads, and has already been see Mr J- with 'em. Likes 'em exceedingly – in particular the comedy, for hints most alluring at certain late scandals, without it could be suppos’d to refer to specifick persons. Also, there is Miss T-, that undertook Miss R-'s parts while she was unable to be about the business, comes on very promising, and with three fine parts for actresses, there will be no brangling amongst 'em.
I am pleas’d to hear it, says I, but I doubt not that Mr J- has suggestions for telling business that might be includ’d.
Why, says Sandy, taking a shortbread, I have a few notes to the purpose. But I think he may be dissuad’d from including a volcanick eruption in The Antiquarian’s Daughter.
La, says I, I may suppose he has late took on some fellow that manufactures spectacles -
Sandy remarks that he fears 'tis so, for Mr J- put out some feelers as to whether the esteem’d dramatist thought of turning The Fearsome Strand into a play?
I shudder and say, why, had consider’d upon it, but should shrink from matters of vulgar spectacle.
Sandy laughs and says, sure you are in accord with Mr P- for once, for he deplores that practice, as too oft employ’d to distract from the poorness of the play itself. And I myself am in some doubts as to whether brings about anything of enduring value to the drama.
We look at one another very amicable.
But, says Sandy, dear sibyl, you look a little troubl’d.
O, says I, 'tis entire foolish qualmishness about this dinner-party I go give, Lord and Lady T- and their gloomy son, and Sir B- and Susannah, with their house-guests.
Sandy winces and says, including Mrs D- K-, I apprehend. Sure will not be the jollyest of gatherings, but I daresay you have some strategy upon hand?
Why, says I, I am not sure I entirely have a strategy upon hand, but there are matters I hope observe; and sigh. Sure, says I, I can think of more congenial gatherings.
Come, dear C-, consider your soirées, that have brought together in harmony a deal of assort’d society.
La, says I, I would not answer for what might happen did Mr P- ever discover that Deacon Brodie was of the company.
Sandy laughs quite immoderate and says, naming of seconds, for a dawn meeting for the exchange of critickal opinions, at ten paces.
I am brought to laughter myself. My dear, says I, I am delight’d to see you in such restor’d spirits.
Why should not my spirits be lighten’d at receiving such kindness as I do not deserve? Has he not quite the noblest of hearts?
I look at him very fondly and say, harmony entire restor’d, then?
Sandy looks thoughtfull and says, somehow seems that the painfull breach has come to bring about a better understanding.
Long may it endure, says I.
But, dearest C-, I must be about my business: you may laugh when I tell you, Lord A- is mind’d to employ a secretary that may advize him upon such politickal matters as he is call’d upon to deal with in the Lords –
What? I cry.
- 'tis the influence of Mr O- B-, that he finds himself on excellent terms with, has contriv’d to bring him about to think upon his responsibilities and the condition of the nation &C.
I laugh a little, 'tis such a very unexpect’d conjunction of the fribble and the cotton manufacturer: but indeed I am pleas’d to hear it.
- so I go about certain of my acquaintance that might suit.
Why, I would not hinder you in such a task. Kindly leave Mr J-'s notes with me and I will address myself to the matter, ‘twill distract my mind from fretting.
But, alas, when I have done that, and set certain suggestions aside so I may think 'em over further, I am return’d to the frets, so I determine go take a little ride on Jezebel.
When I come to the stableyard I find Nick, Nell, and Sal, that is her sister that tends the mews cottage, that huddle together and I daresay are in concern over the matter of the sale of the livery-stable. They jump apart and Nell and Sal scurry off about their proper business. Nick goes fetch out Jezebel, that Ajax has been saddling &C.
'Tis another matter for me to go fret over as I ride.
But comes at last the time when my guests arrive, and sure 'tis ever pleasing to see Sir B- W- and dear Susannah, and Captain C- looks as tho’ having made his decision to sell out takes a deal of weight from his mind, and Mrs D- K- is looking in good taste. And Lord T- is ever amiable, and Lady T- makes exceeding civil to me, even if Lord K- is the same sad dull fellow, his eyes ever straying towards Mrs D- K-.
Timothy comes with some excellent fine wine - has acquir’d a deal of polish in the matter, I confide he took some lessoning at R- House in such duties – that most fortunate I had already in my cellar, for have been so busy since my return have had no opportunity to convoke with Mr H- concerning his friends of the Trade.
We exchange a little civil conversation – Lady T- wishes to know is there any lace made about Naples, for 'twas once most exceeding not’d for that art. Alas, says I, has declin’d from those days, there is indeed lace hawkt about but 'tis somewhat coarse. However, I go on, the Contessa di S- has some very fine antique lace that has been in her family this long while.
Susannah says, she is ever in the greatest admiration for Lady T-'s skill with the bobbins and the fine lace she makes. Alas, she goes on with a flourish of her lorgnette, I fancy I am too near-sight’d to be able to undertake anything of the like, even did my fingers have the skill.
Lady T- smiles a little and I see this prepossesses her with dear Susannah, that she has been like to suppose a sad bluestocking that rules her husband.
In due course comes Hector to inform us that dinner is serv’d, and we go into the new part of my house and my fine dining-room, and I look about it very pleas’d, for the furniture is all well-polisht and the table laid with my good china and my very fine wine-glasses, and there are candelabra with fine candles burning, and two epergnes that hold pickles and relishes and are deckt with flowers that were especial sent over from R- House.
'Twas no difficult matter to think who should take who in to dinner: Sir B- W- takes Lady T-, Lord K- takes Susannah, Captain C- arms in Mrs D- K-, and I, of course, am took in by Lord T-.
And Hector and Timothy come around laying the dishes that have come fresh and hot by means of that very excellent device from the kitchen beneath, and go round with wine, and I observe Lady T- look most approving at my dinner service. Euphemia has done most exceeding well and all except Lord K-, that looks sorrowfull at Mrs D- K-, look upon the first course with great pleasure.
I hear Sir B- W- offer to carve Lady T- some of this excellent beef, or perchance she would prefer duck, and here are some little new peas, and I see that she becomes amiable towards him. Susannah goes endeavour make conversation with Lord K-, that picks at his food as if fears might be poison’d.
Lord T- says 'tis pleasing to see me return’d to Town in such health, and hopes that the matters of my property at Naples are entire settl’d? – indeed, says I – and hopes they may see me at C- Castle this summer. We discourse a little of mutual acquaintance, and he remarks that Mr C- answers most excellent as secretary.
There is a pleasing little buzz of conversation tho’ one must observe that Lord K- does not say much.
At the remove and the bringing of the second course – Euphemia has contriv’d to obtain a very fine fresh salmon upon which all exclaim, and there is also the excellent early sparrowgrass – Lord K- is at last at liberty to speak to Mrs D- K-, that he does in somewhat of an undertone, waving away the while the offer of the very fine rice pillow with almonds and raisins. (Sir B- W- looks at me, and says, all the more for the rest of us.)
Lady T- goes converse with Captain C-, and very soon they determine upon some family connexion by way of Mrs Robert G-, and she displays a markt increase in civility towards him, and shortly he is telling her about his adventures at the Cape with his regiment, and later in Nova Scotia, and I see her eyes go to Lord K-, that leads such a dull life going about quacking himself for imaginary ailments, and I daresay she makes odorous caparisons.
The ice-pudding is most well-receiv’d, except by Lord K-, that says somewhat about the unwholesomeness of such things. He also eschews the very good cheese, that has been sent by Martha from the dairy on the Admiral’s estate.
At the proper moment I rise to withdraw the ladies to my parlour, so that Hector may bring out the port and brandy and cigars for the gentlemen.
There is tea and ratafia ready for us, along with some little macaroons, and we talk of various matters – what a shame 'twas I misst the M- House ball, 'twas an excellent occasion, but doubtless I saw a deal of society at Naples – until the gentlemen come in, that is not a long while at all.
Lord T-, Sir B- W- and Captain C- are conversing very amiable about Nova Scotia, but Lord K- has somewhat of a sulky look and goes with somewhat uncivil expedition to Mrs D- K-'s side.
I do not think he would drag her from her bed to kick her, but sure I am in some concern about how he would show as a husband.
While I'm doing that I need to do a factory reset of my iPhone, since Other and Documents & Data now somehow take up about 7 GB of the 12 GB of memory it has. I resent Apple so much for this being the only option for fixing it. When I did it in May 2016 it took over two hours (and 10 years off my life from anxiety) to do the reset and reload my backup.
I have nothing in my mind to write at the moment, and the white noise feel of that is uncomfortable.
I still really dislike the look of Dreamwidth. I also need to change the layout of my presence here because I can't stand how the comments look in it.
I am dying to meet up with some fen in real life, something I haven't done in years, not out of my not wanting to but possibly because I don't know if anyone local is fannish about any of the things I recently rep! Is there anybody out there?
Damn, this was a mostly negative post. I really like the flowering trees--