Tangents and Digressions

married with mercs, random blather, writing

le amore escargot gigantique napoleon frittata

So in the course of looking for… something on the internets today, I stumbled on a blog post about the elfpunk variety of urban fantasy, and I was all zuh? about it, because seriously, what? Anyway, as the article says: Elfpunk takes Elves and the other creatures of Faerie and throws them into a contemporary story. These stories are often dark and gritty and may feature rock bands, car racing, or motorcycles. How is this different from Urban Fantasy? Elfpunk dosen’t have Werewolves  ...

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knitting, random blather

I’ve forgotten what I wanted to write about

I need to start drinking more milk, or something, because my nails went from nice and healthy and hard to chipping and splitting as soon as they get to a nice length. It’s probably the milk, because I haven’t been drinking a lot, actually barely any, in the last two months. I got so used to 1% milk in Canada, and they don’t have that here; it goes from 0.5% to 1.5% to 2% and higher. The 0.5% is too watery, the 1.5% tastes weird, and the 2% I was trying to avoid because in  ...

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because there’s always time for yarn!

Wow, I haven’t posted here in ages. And so much has changed! At the end of May, I went to Poland to visit my family—it had been 19 years since I left Poland, so it was high time to go back—and the subject of going to school was brought up. In Poland, as long as you study during the day, rather than evening or audited classes, university is free, so I wouldn’t have to worry about not being able to afford tuition. By this time, it was June, and then my mom suggested that I  ...

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fuckery abounds, writing

Shakespeare gots to get paid, son

A couple of weeks ago, Lilith Saintcrow had an interesting post about being an artist, and it was a bit of a rant against the people who insist that a true ARTEESTE doesn’t make money off their work. I mentioned this in chat with a friend today, and she said “I really hate it when people try to define what is or isn’t an artist […] like, oh yeah, totally have to be poor alcoholics that starve and suffer for their masterpieces.” Which, yeaaaah. Ceiling Cat forbid writers make money doing  ...

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