Anything except roleplaying

Finding a blog not about roleplaying was really difficult today.
One thing I've noticed about roleplayers: apparently really taught, overly dramatic writing = good.
News to me.
I don't really know what this blog is about. I picked it more or less based on the strength of the name. Pantryslut.
I've probably reviewed this one too or some shit.

Met with the kindergarten teacher and school director about how to support Simone in her gender identity. Forgot to say probably the most important thing: "don't reduce Simone to solely her variant gender identity. It's only one aspect of this kid here before you." 

I see I've chosen well.

The other day on the playground, Simone was bitten by a goose. She had bread in her hand, and the bite didn't leave a mark, so it was pretty clearly a case of trying to get at the food rather than aggressively attacking her. Still, she was understandably freaked out. I told her, to help explain the situation and calm her down a little, that the goose had made a mistake and that if it could talk it would apologize.

When I told this story to G. later in the evening, he laughed. "You lied!" he said. "That goose would have said, 'gimme the bread.'"

HUE HUE HUE HUE US BLOGGERS AM I RIGHT?
 Also get ready for my HUE HUE HUE pictures because they're coming and I have a lot of them.
HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE HUE.
Fucking blogs.

Later that same day on the playground, Simone was explaining her gender identity to some new acquaintances in response to their inquiries. "I'm a girl and a boy," she said. "I'm both." There was some ensuing discussion amongst said new acquaintances regarding indicators such as hair length, clothing, voice, etc., trying to correct the situation into a tidy binary once more. At which point she spread her hands and said, "I am who I am."

I melt, Dear Readers. I melt.

Teachin' that kid how to never be a functioning member of society.

Book I should write: "How To Throw Large Sex Parties For Fun and Sometimes Profit."

Speaking of things that go along well with your kids: sex parties.

Seriously what the fuck?

Perhaps in compensation for yesterday's choice of clothing, Simone chose to wear pants, a baseball cap and an eyepatch (hee!) today to our monthly outing at Youth Uprising. She also told me to call her my son and April's brother. Of course I complied. I wonder, idly, if she found playground interactions yesterday harder -- or just uncomfortably different -- than when in her usual outfits. No way to tell, really, so I will continue to follow her lead wherever it goes.

GENDERS.

2. April told her first true joke:

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Dwayne."

"Dwayne who?"

"Dwayne the bathtub!"

Holy shit kid

that sucked

my jokes blow the lid off that fucking garbage.

Simone: "Knock knock."

Me: "Who's there?"

Simone: "Look."

Me: "Look who?"

Simone: "Look out below!"

Me: "Ok. What's above?"

Simone: "A duck falling."

Me: "I see."

Simone: "It jumped from the ceiling."

Me: "That makes sense."

Simone: "The joke is just 'look out below,' though."

How about your fluid gender fluids over into a person that can tell a fucking joke with a punchline? 

""I'll be 40 next year, with a PhD -- I will not be an intern," my friend recently vented, with perhaps a few expletives."

Ahem.

Ashley Nelson, "Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Mom"

Should have thought of that before I guess.

I am circling around the issue of women, death, and agency. Over and over again. I am clearly obsessed. In an artistic way, I mean. Those of you close to me know what I'm talking about. I mean, it's become pretty obvious in my writing over the past few years.

Recently I have decided to stop tiptoeing around this fact and stare my little obsession in the eye. I am thinking of it as a small, fluffy dog. With a rather chipper bark. I am going to put it in my bag and carry it with me for a while.

I have also decided to talk about it in public. A little. I hate talking about my actual work, what I am working on, in public, so this is a big step. (We can talk about stuff I've completed all you want. I may not have anything particularly enlightening to say, though.) But this isn't talking about what I'm working on, this is talking about the background stuff that informs what I'm working on.

So! In that vein, let's take a brief look at women writers and suicide. Surely we must start with Vice Magazine.

Vice is the best.

If you haven't seen their show in HBO you really should because it's unbelievable. 

Simone: "Mom, can I have a bookmark?"

Me: "Yes. What for?"

Simone: "It's for this book of mine." [She displays a blank book that she has been diligently 'writing' in.] "It's a poem book. It's called 'Poems of Love.'"

If I have a daughter she's going to be so much fucking cooler holy shit

Post whining about something on the playground--

Quick, name for me some of your favorite Dead Wives of Media and Literature. Or simply the examples that leap to mind first.

Uhhhhhhhh

Knee-deep in Moby Dick. Still loving it.

KNEE DEEP IN DICK :DDDDDDDDD

Thank you, I guess, to Star Wars for initiating a conversation with my children about why so many stories have lots of boys but not lots of girls, how that doesn't match with our experience of reality, other ways in which stories like that don't match with our reality, and how to change the stories and tell new stories so that they do. 

Because Princess Leia is a dumb bitch who couldn't avoid getting caught in one ship in OUTER FUCKING SPACE so she's totally irrelevant throughout most of the movie until someone with a brain (AKA Chewbacca)  can rescue her dumbass.

You're welcome for my cutting summary of Star Wars.

We are the custodians of a box of silkworms for the weekend.

or the box of fire, as it would be if I were in charge of it.

Once upon a time I was an English major at a state university, and that state university required students to take a survey Intro to Fiction/Drama/Poetry sequence. Graduate students taught these courses, of course. For Intro to Poetry, I got some prig who'd gone to Adrian or Albion or one of those hyper-religious colleges for his undergraduate work. He kept the Christian thing to a dull roar -- but he was unable to do so for the homophobia. Or the distaste for free verse. I had this class first thing in the morning three times a week. I had a stronger constitution then.

His homophobia and distaste for free verse combined into, unsurprisingly, a virulent dislike of Whitman. So virulent, in fact, that he cut him out of the curriculum entirely. Honest.

We might not be brothers in faith but we are brothers in writing.

Fuck Whitman.

He made some sort of statement about how American poetry of the 19th century had two major figures but he despised one of them so he wasn't going to assign any of it for reading.

Instead, he assigned us double doses of the other one: Emily Dickinson.

I'm going to have to presume a heaping helping of denial (plus the always-lovely attitude that girl-homos don't count) assisted him in this particular mental gymnastic routine.

Fuck the 19th century frankly but I guess you picked the lesser of two evils.

Apparently today was "fantasy dress-up day" at preschool, with much princess and knight accoutrements.

One of Simone's friends picked out a knight outfit for her and brought it over, saying "Simone, I know that sometimes you like to be the brother so I saved this for you."

Simone is said to have replied, "thanks, but today I want to be a princess!" and immediately donned three tutus over her pants.

(gold star for the friend!)

>not wanting to be the black knight to troll every 5 year old ever

faggots.

I'm a Roman Legatus fuck all this gay knight shit I'm the top pro here.

The thing is, this slippage, while v. disappointing in a theoretical text, is rather easy and unsurprising.

Hey, whoa.

"Slippage" is a bad word in my household.

LOSING THEM FUNDS TO BULLSHIT CLICKING.

That cuts deep, man.

And I think that one of the unintended results is the slippage she's decrying. "Pro-sex feminism," for lack of a better term, gets watered down as it makes allies with porn producers and non-feminist sex activists. Much in the same way, btw, that antiporn feminism became co-opted by a larger social conservatism.

I wish I had some big bow to wrap up these observations in, but I don't. This is sketchy and strongly subject to revision. But I do feel as if I am watching both "pro-sex feminism"** and antiporn feminism disappear through continuous multiple dilutions. They both continue to fade away as we watch.

Ok I'll admit I'm starting this entry halfway through because it's really boring and I don't care but what the fuck does that shit even mean?

Fucking goddamn it.

Man I just reread this entry and talk about a verbose blogger. You want to edit this shit down?

I know your kids are endlessly interesting to you but meanwhile I'm fucking dying over here.

I've had more interesting discussions about what video game girls are wearing than reading this shit.

That's pretty fucking dire, m8.

Speaking of: holy shit, CCP, learn what sexy glasses look like.

This:

 

 

is unacceptable. Do you guys want me to fly over there and tell you how attractive women dress? I will do it. If you compensate me I will sit down and carefully explain to your dumb Icelandic asses why no guy wants to see his waifu in pedo glasses.

Let's start with billy basic mode here:

regular t-shirts are clearly still in fashion in the grim darkness of the year 28,000 or whatever it is in EVE world but blue jeans no longer exist.

Sneakers still exist

t-shirts still exist

all pants are leather.

What?

Also I get it's the future and everyone is wacky and cyberpunk but goddamn can I get a few hairstyles that aren't the worst thing to ever happen to me in a video game?

You have no idea how much pressure that puts on a guy. I have to make her face the most beautiful in the history of existence (which isn't easy given the face molder you have) to make up for the fact that 99% of the hairstyles look like the 90s interpreting how the 80s might think the future will look.

You can't just dangle this shit in front of your players.

"Here you can make an Asian woman who can fly a ship by directly interfacing with it (AKA every nerd's fantasy) but this is going to be like a three hour study in facial anatomy."

THANKS CCP.

I've succeeded well beyond what most people have achieved, too.

You don't even want to know what the typical EVE girl looks like.

Harley Quinn makeup disaster.

Or man.

Apparently no one at CCP games is aware what a human jaw looks like or how it is shaped.

Also you can move the eyelids in any number of improbable configurations but change the angle of the eye?
That's just stupid.

People are going to be really bottom sore, too, when you can finally amble around the station.

Or shit, if you can do archaeology out of the pod?
CCP will be mad they didn't listen to me then.

I WARNED YOU BRO

I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE WAIFUS

anyway what the fuck was I even talking about?

Some bullshit blog no one cares about?

What else is new?
Also something I forgot to mention from the last update:

upon googling the phrase that reminded me that I had already reviewed the blog (only way I can find my own back entries because my tags are hopelessly useless) my blog showed up as the first entry. That means it showed up before her.

Me quoting her blog was deemed more relevant than the original quote by Google's standards.

I mean I'm sure I get more hits (not that I get many hits but whatever) but you know still kind of funny.

Anyway fuck the internet.