Tuesday Poetry

All Those Inuit Names for Snow
by Tom Tempkin

My mother is watching her mother die.
Gravity has declared war against the lower lip.
Salt has worn to fine gauze the threads

sprouting from the inner ear. For each one
that goes, we must learn a new word
for what we think life is, what we dream

it will be. Among our tricks and screams
and flowered boudoirs, we must all wear once
the wedding gown stained with mother's blood

or dance the implicit waltz while meandering
to victory with a swollen hand.
I will feed the cat when you're gone.

This is my promise.
The first one to wake whispers to the other:
poinsetta, aspen, sweet fig, dream of orchid, rose.

Why Arming Women Won't Stop Violence Against Women

So here's our heroine's choices. She can shoot him and get convicted of a variety of crimes, because you can't just go around shooting guys. The only guys you can shoot are burglars and guys who Don't Look Like Us. So she goes to jail. Then what do the rest of us do? She becomes like Andrea Yates or Susan Smith---the real life version of all those Evil Disney Mothers, while real life male scumbags get tossed into the collective dustbin of consciousness. We can't think ill of those that rule us. We can't look too closely at how they do it.

So tell me how giving women guns without changing the culture will do any damned good at all. It won't protect women, and chances are it will enrage the men who laugh at the idea that a woman has a right to enjoy her body while he does not. I have to say, too, a stray thought occurred to me. Guys who think they have such rights to women's bodies---what do you suppose their attitude is toward other methods of controlling those women's bodies? Do you really think you have to right to do anything with your body if they don't get off on it? Do you think they care about your body except if it gets them off? Do you really think they give a shit at all?

Giving women guns is just going to put more women behind bars. The very men who proclaim that this will solve the problem are removing themselves and their buddies from the responsible party list by suggesting it. "Hey," they whine, "We gave you an option, you chose not to take it. Not our problem any longer."

Writing Today

Got a couple stories back in the mail this weekend. Now I need to work on some new material.

Ah, I love the fall. I'm making a tasty vegetarian pasta tonight.

World Fantasy Schedule, Revised

I've finally nailed down the last bit of info I needed in order to book for the World Fantasy Convention in Madison, WI.

Jenn's got her proposal dissertation defense that Friday, so instead of bumming a ride up with her, I'm taking the train up late Thursday. I'll be getting in around midnight, but should be good to go for Friday/Saturday/Sunday.

I cancelled my reservations at the Doubletree because for the same amount I could get a lakeview suite at the Hilton Madison Monona Terrace, where Jenn and I stayed for our first Wiscon. We love it there, so I booked and prepaid for a slightly better rate.

Hope to see some of you there!

Once More Around the Mulberry Bush

Back to my morning weights, back to the gym tonight, back to drinking coffee.

Ahhhhhh

Here at work, Blaine's back from his honeymoon. Apparently, "Glad to be back," which says something about what a workaholic he's become. Dude, give *me* your two weeks in Hawaii, dude...

My Eyes Are Small And Squinty

Oh, I need to sleep more.

Octopus Vs. Shark

Cool.

Surreal Moment of the Day

Explaining to the new counterperson at the very new Starbucks on our corporate campus what "breve" meant, after repeating my order four times with varying degrees of slowness, so she could map down all the Starbucks-speak.

It was surreal not because she didn't know, but because I did.

Sometimes I worry that the corporate card and the nice shoes will turn me into a yuppie. All I need now is to actually be making money and driving an SUV.

I'm such a liberal hippie.

Friday Beer Blogging

Woman! Someday is Today!!

Women! Someday is today

Is motherhood instinctive or learned behavior? Both religion and science tell us that it is instinctive, much to the distaste of the feminist ideologists, who have never been overburdened by a solid grasp on either. But one need only watch the way in which a young girl mothers her stuffed animals to see the maternal instinct at work.

Her stuffed animals???

Researcher 1: As you can see, this female engages in play activities with her stuffed animals. This is instictive maternal behavior.

Researcher 2: And yet, this male child here is also engaging in play activities with his stuffed animals.

Researcher 1: He is learning animal anatomy in order to prepare him for the hunt.

Researcher 2: But this girl's stuffed animals have been separated into two teams, and one is mounting a strategic air attack against the other. And this boy appears to be... feeding his animals and calling them "Floppy."

Researcher 1: Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.... ::waves hands in front of colleague's face:::

Although the Equalitarian Society is now, by most statistical measures, structured so as to favor its female members, it nevertheless poses a cruel choice to those women cursed by its costly blessings

Wow, I'd love to see how our Western Equalitarian society "favors" it's female members. We get to go to prison, too! Where are these "statistical measures, I wonder? hmmmmm

And a woman foolish enough to wait more than two decades before attempting to have children has no one to blame but herself.

And the fact that the state doesn't provide child and healthcare. And the fact that it took her those two decades to go to school and have a career that would make it financially possible for her to raise a child responsibly. Oh, and she had to find an actual, you know, willing partner to help her out with all this, and let's remember that men aren't all that eager to have kids at 20 years old, either. For reasons outlined above: want to go to med school? There's a decade, right there.

Oh, I'm sorry. I mean: women, it's all YOUR FAULT!

As for the likelihood that the technological future will eventually solve such problems, it is worth noting that no society that possesses artificial wombs, robot sex dolls, multiplayer video games and 24-hour sports networks is one in which men are likely to show a tremendous amount of interest in relationships or the opposite sex.

But I thought this was all women's fault? I'm confused now.

Bring on the babies in jars, in any case.

Fortunately, as we have not yet reached Nerdvana, there are a number of steps that a woman whose priority remains marriage and children can take in order to happily achieve those goals:

Well, thank Jesus for that!

Don't engage in casual dating relationships after 18. They're fun, and they'll also prevent you from pursuing more fruitful relationships.

Become a nun.

Make those potential long-term relationships your top priority. If you put college or your job first, there's a reasonable chance that a job is all you'll have at 40 ... and 60.

You should remain poor and illiterate. Men like women this way.

Consider the president's new Supreme Court nominee. The unmarried and childless Creepy McCrypto is on the verge of becoming one of the two most powerful professional women in the country – does she really represent the ideal American woman?

Wow! Kudos for getting Miers in here. No wonder the right wingers all hate Miers. She's unmarried and childless! This all makes a LOT more sense. *These* are the credentials they're looking for and can't find. They don't care that she's never been a judge. They're freaking out cause she's not married!

Settle earlier rather than later.

If it breathes and has a dick, hop on.

Those who are not still single at 35 are now married to men generally considered to be of lower quality than the men they spurned before.

Who are now gas station attendants.

Remember, your choices narrow as you get older, while men's choices broaden.

After 35, no man will ever want to have sex with you. Ever. Not even your husband. He has statstical measures, I'm sure. Though, I mean, we don't get to see them.

Luckily, if you're a lesbian, you get to luck out of this fate. Oddly, he doesn't mention this. Perhaps he thinks lesbians are mythical creatures made up in liberal hippie fairy books.

Let everyone know that marriage and children is your ultimate goal. Too many women, fearing the wrath of the Sisterhood, secretly wish for them while publicly and piously professing feminist-approved cant to the contrary.

The Wrath of the Sisterhood? Who be these sisters of wrath? Yea, cause, like, everybody from my hometown who was like, "I want to get married and have kids. That's my ultimate goal," I totally beat them up and strangled them.

No. If that's what you want out of life, you go for it. If you want that and a shitload more, I intend to remind you of that.

Unlike their female counterparts, men who say they don't want to get married or have kids usually mean it.

Ummmm. Yea. Cause we EVIL WOMEN LIE ALL THE TIME about such things. I really, desperately want 16 children and three husbands. I want to become a Mormon and move to Utah and make my own clothes and give up coffee.

And if you believe that, I have a some Nigerian money scheme I'll let you in on for only $29.95 a month.

Shed your man-hating friends, as well as those who buy seriously into the Equalitarian dogma. Misery loves company and miserable women like nothing better than to make everyone within a five-mile radius miserable, too.

Oh, finally we get to the lesbians. Kick out those lesbian friends of yours, and those closet-lesbians who sleep with men but say women need equal rights and access to contraception and equal pay for equal work! Those lesbian-friendly douchebags should be dropped like jeans and replaced with skirts, dammit.

The lesbians and lesbian-friendlies are just out to make you miserable, to teach you that you can fulfill all of your greatest hopes and dreams and live the life you've imagined! And who the hell wants that when you can marry the gas attendant at the local 7-eleven and bust out a couple of babies at 16 and live in poverty married to a guy who doesn't love you and who you aren't all that into?

Because isn't that what every woman wants?

Be brutal when assessing the men who are interested in you.

Castrate them.

Oh, sorry, different rant.

The way he treats others is the way he will eventually treat you.

Well now, how can I argue with that?

If you want the odds of easily bearing healthy children to be in your favor, set a goal of marrying by 25. You can always go back to school, you can't go back in time.

Because having children with the wrong person who steals your money and your self-esteem and fighting over your kids is a lot better than finding your own self-esteem, figuring out who you are, and boldly engaging in an equal partnership with a strong, smart, person who shares your goals and values.

Babies are more important than you are.

Remember that love is a choice, an action and a commitment, it is not a feeling.

Wow. That's very medieval. On to arranged marriages, anyone?

You Throw Like A Girl

TORRANCE, Calif. -- When the Bishop Montgomery High School quarterback went down with a fractured leg, his replacement stepped in and completed four of five passes for three touchdowns.

There's nothing too unusual about that, except that the replacement quarterback was a girl.

Miranda McOsker, 15, is one of 253 girls out of 100,000 high school students in California who are playing football this year, according to the California Interscholastic Foundation. She joined the private Catholic school's football program last spring.

"I didn't try out for quarterback, I was just looking to play anything," said the 5-foot-9, 140-pound sophomore. "One day I was throwing with the quarterback after practice and the coaches watched me. They told me to play quarterback the next day and ever since I've been playing quarterback."

WTF is "hard fantasy"?

Just when I thought I'd heard it all...

More on Food Obsession

My run with the flu pushed me off track with my gym and weights routine, and screwed my eating habits. Well, no, that's not true. My eating had been getting out of hand again as I was swallowed by stress, most of it having to do with trying to get the rewrites on the fantasy saga done. I felt like Iwas caught up in a tornado and then dropped into a big pool of sludge and I was floundering around, sinking faster and faster with every pitiful stroke...

It's no wonder I was literally bedridden and starving for a week, dreaming of food and the day when I could once again read a book without feeling like I was puzzling out a physics equation written in ancient Egyptian.

My week post-flu was spent being hungry all the time, eating lots of bread, pasta, yogurt, and soup and worrying about how much I was eating.

Last weekend, B came into town and said, "You know, I hate to say this, but you really have lost weight. It's a little disturbing."

Well, yes, it is. Because secretly, I really don't mind the way I look. For all my wishing and hoping that I'd drop two fucking sizes, I really don't mind looking the way I do. I like being substantial. But... but...

Now that the book's gone out, the major stress is off. I'm still living too much with my credit card, but I'm hoping to take care of that by the end of the year. My eating this week has been reasonable and very filling. I feel terribly content. I've been eating a big breakfast, snacking on grapes and yogurt during the day, partaking of communal roommate dinners at night (usually consisting of pasta and salad or fish and salad and asparagus, or eggs and vegetables, and etc.).

I've had no binging stress at all.

And I worried about that.

I worried about my weight, worried that I hadn't been able to get back to the gym, worried about what pancakes for breakfast every morning would do to my waistline. Worry, worry. Not a big worry, just that little, nagging voice, "You're eating too much. You're enjoying yourself. You won't lose weight this way. You're going to be confined to buying clothes from the same 3 stores for the rest of your life."

Boo-hoo

But nonetheless, there I was, sneaking out of the house last night and going to Borders to look for a list of books about compulsive eating, overeating, and body image.

I spent an hour going from shelf to shelf to shelf. With no luck. I couldn't find any of them.

And as I perused the "Recovery" section of the bookstore, looking at books purporting to cure me of smoking, bulimia, alcoholism, anorexia, and drug addiction, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing here?"

I was struck again at how much time, energy, and effort I put into thinking about dieting, weight loss, body image. It's not on my mind all the time now, but when I get to being worried, when I'm uncertain of myself, this is where I go back to. I think, "If I could just fix this one thing, everything will be all right."

Which is horseshit. Utter, utter horseshit.

I'll still be me. I'm the same person at a size 12 as a size 16. There's no difference.

And the real kicker? The real fucking kicker is that there's nothing wrong with me. I'm totally healthy. I take the stairs everywhere. I walk over an hour every day. I eat reasonably. I have no health problems whatsoever except that I overstress about things. That's going to be the source of any of my ill health problems, not the fact that I weight 200 lbs (or whatever). No doctor has ever told me to lose weight. I don't have any strange aches and pains in my back or my knees. I don't have diabetes. I don't smoke.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with me, and here I'm standing in the "recovery" section like I'm slowly choking to death on whipped cream.

Hardly.

So I left the Recovery section and went to the "General Military History" section and picked up a ridiculous number of books for God's War.

Fuck this shit.

I have more important things to do with my time.

Yea, I'll get back to the gym and hopefully jogging next week, but I don't intend to lose one bloody pound doing it.

I'm so tired of hating myself over a number.

Writing Schedule

Oddly enough, I've still got God's War slated to be finished by year's end. Not sure how I'll pull that off, but I've got a strong beginning, a strong outline, and strong research. I've taken some downtime for research recently, but this weekened should get me back into the groove.

I'd also really like to get back on the short story route. I'd like to finish:

The Boxing Magicians of Faleen

A story about a boy who wants to be a boxing magician, set in the same world as God's War.

Heroes

A dark little peice about madness, torture, flying women, and cannibalism. Yay!

I'd also like to send something to a couple of anthologies including Clash of Steel, and From the Trenches (war stories, baby!).

I had a depressing look over at Ralan at the current OK-paying SF/F zines out there, as I've been doing so much work on novels, I've ignored short markets. For good reason, it seems: they're mostly closed to submissions.

Yay.

This is Why You Really Need to Prepare For Your Interview With (INSERT FAMOUS AUTHOR HERE)

Seriously. Some people just suck at interviewing. Margaret Atwood takes her young interviewer to task.

(thanks, Jenn)

Free Books

Just a reminder, there are over 16,000 free books over at Project Gutenburg.

It's pretty cool.

Send Twisty Some Presents

Twisty, now uniboobal, is in recovery.

If you'd like to send her some stuff to peruse, go for it:

What I really need are mystery novels, or old movies, or even some good old patriarchy-affirming yet diverting SF. Email me.

You're a Super-Fatty: I Make Fun of You Because I Care

In the eighth grade, I had a science teacher who decided he was going to teach us about health and nutrition and exercise. I really liked the guy, all told, but he really, really didn't like fat people. Well, no, I'll amend that: he didn't understand fat kids.

Let's call him Mr. H.

This made dealing with him kinda tough, because I'd just put on 30lbs of puberty weight, and I wasn't skinny to begin with. I would later lose 20lbs and grow a few inches, but looking back at some of my 8th grade photos, I was startled to see it was my second highest height/weight ratio.

Was I horribly unhealthy? Well, I sure could have used some exercise, and I probably ate too many sweets. But my diet was just as shitty when I was thinner as I hit highschool as it was in the 8th grade - I just didn't eat *as much* shit food. But I sure did *look* "healthier," I'm sure.

In any case, Mr. H. decided it was time to do something about all the fat, unhealthy kids in the class. We did a 2 or 3 month "course" in the class on health and nutrition. So in addition to PE classes, we came to science class and did circuit training and kept food journals. People got to marvel at how much or how little other people ate. I discovered I could do just as many exercises as some of the skinny girls who ate less. And of course, I got my ass kicked by everybody who exercised regularly.

Mr. H. arrived on campus at 6:30 am every morning and went jogging. It's just what he did. He invited other students to join him in these morning jogs. Which was a great thing if you were already in shape and could keep up. People like me would have to work into doing something like that. And, of course, I have. I can jog three miles now. Not a fast three miles, mind you, but I can jog it nonetheless. I can more-or-less find clothes that fit me, though I've got a narrower range of stores to go to than my size 4 roommate, who can shop anywhere.

What I appreciated about Mr. H. is that he did seem to care. What he didn't seem to get, though, is where all the fat kids were coming from. I don't think he got that we didn't feel we could go jogging with him at 6:30 am without feeling like fat lazy slobs because we couldn't keep up. Being harrassed or feeling like a slothful moron at 6:30 am isn't anything anybody wants to experience.

Keeping food journals and then sharing them with your teacher (binge sessions included) and having other kids comment on them isn't fun either. Nor is being compared to an athlete in how many circuit exercises you can do.

Being an overweight kid who's been made fun of everytime you try to do something active (which gets worse, particularly for women, at puberty when you've got all sorts of things jiggling all of the sudden) is pretty off-putting. I'd rather go home and read books.

So it was with in mind that I read this article by a Canadian high school chemistry teacher commenting on the health risks to her "Super Fatty" students:

Another problem is that its a taboo to make fun of fat people. We make fun and harass smokers regularly, but we think its rude to make fun of fat/obese people.

And yet how else will fat/obese people gain the willpower to exercise/eat properly if they don't get negative feedback/concern about their weight.

I MAKE FUN OF YOUR FLABBY BODY BECAUSE I CARE! THAT'S RIGHT JABBA THE HUTT! GET OFF YOUR FAT ASS AND EXERCISE! PUT AWAY THE COCA-COLA AND THE GREASY FOOD! GO WALK IT OFF!

For the record, I can't think of anyone in high school who made fun of smokers.

I can think of a whole hell of a fuck of a lot who made fun of me and others for being chunky, tubby, fat, slothful, ugly, lazy, overweight, obese, bovine-like.

Hear that? Nobody makes fun of fat people enough. That's why high school students don't exercise. That's why they're not keen on understanding nutrition. They's why we never went out running when our uber-friendly science teachers at 6:30 am.

If we just make fun of fat people more often, they'll be thin. It won't depress us and send us into our rooms to binge on cake and ice cream for three days and watch Titanic and cry. And absolutely nothing of our weight has anything to do with genetics, as researched, scientifically and everything, below.

No, we'll be invigorated if we're made fun of! Just like in the Marines! We'll want to go out and get thin!

You want to know what invigorates me to exercise? I want to be strong so I can kick the shit out of assholes like this fucktard.

(via bfb)

Those Pesky "Fat Storage" Genes! Just Think How Well the White Folks Would Have Populated the West Without Them

DURHAM, N.C., Oct. 12 - A gene that programs muscle tissue to store fat is over-expressed in obese women, researchers here say, and may be a key reason why dieting fails...

For now the take-home message for clinicians treating obese people is that diet alone is unlikely to have much effect, Dr. Muoio said.

Well, first of all:

1) Duh.

2) Why is it always *women* only who get put into these studies? Because fat women are scarier than fat men? Why can't you look at both in the same study? Or do dual studies of men and women?

3) Does it worry anyone else that if we start trying to mess with something like a "fat storage" gene, the more at risk we are of living in a society that looks a lot like Stephen King's novel Thinner?

Boy-Gamer Porn Poetry

Though I must say, I'd like to see the girl-gamer version of this. Any takers?

Nerd Porn Auteur

But I don't wanna watch this misogynist he-man woman-hater porn.
I want porno movies that are made with guys like me in mind:
Guys who know that the sexiest thing in the world
is a woman who is smarter than you are...

My porn starlets will come in all shapes and sizes.
My porn starlets will be too busy working on their PhD to go to the gym.

In my kind of porno movies the girls wouldn't even have to get naked.
They'd just take the guys down to the rec room and
beat them repeatedly at chess
and then talk to them for hours about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle
or the underlying social metaphors in the Aliens movies.