Astrobolists

http://www.gwendabond.com/bondgirl/2013/05/tuesday-hangovers.html

• Whoops, sorry to disappear, but I predict a return to more regular entries starting now. At least until circus edits land. In the meantime, I'm accumulating research material for a new thing and pecking away at a collaborative project with C that has been major fun so far. And soon now The Woken Gods will be dipping its myth-infused toes into the waters of People Reading It Early and so I must. stay. busy. But what easier way to dip my non-mythical toe back into the blog than the sharing of some amassed links and the closing of tabs? There isn't one, so.


• Speaking of The Woken Gods, I started a little pinboard for it, if you want a look-see.


• You may have seen this already, but I love it so here it is anyway: a photographer does a series of photos of her five-year-old daughter not as a princess but as various heroic real women.


• The cast of Better Off Dead, where are they now? (I want my two dollars!)


• Great think piece by the fabulous Anne Helen Petersen: "The Enduring Post-Feminist Dystopia of Bachelorette."


• Excerpts of letters from Italo Calvino are running at the New Yorker: "I’m a regular guy, I like well-defined outlines, I’m old-fashioned,
  bourgeois. My stories are full of facts, they have a beginning and an
  end. For that reason they will never be able to find success with the
  critics, nor occupy a place in contemporary literature." Good reading.


• This news story about the resurfacing of a 27-year-old CIA wig is just about perfect.


• Terrible magicians in pop culture. LOVE. (Via David.)


• An interview with Hot Key's editorial director that has some interesting insights into UK sales figures.


• Janni Simner kicks off her "Writing for the Long Haul" blog series with a wonderful piece from Cynthia Leitich Smith. (I, too, have an expensive grocery habit.)


• This post Austin points to sums up a large part of why I still keep up this blog, and probably always will, and why I don't really worry about how many of you there are (just grateful that you stop by, period). (Also, in the age of platform purchases and inevitable migrations, I believe that having a space you own becomes ever more important.)


• And, finally, two things via the Awl: Replacement similes for after all the animals go extinct ("(18) Brave as a lion = Brave as a freelancer") and the annotated wisdom of Amy Poehler ("Right now I'm singing along to books on tape. I typically pop in something like Stephen King's The Stand, and I love singing along to that kind of stuff.").

I’m still waiting for someone — anyone — to present an argument against same-sex marriage that doesn’t boil down to, “My religion doesn’t approve” or “I think it’s icky.” Using the former as an excuse for discrimination is about as unAmerican as you can get, and the latter is just asinine.

While politicians and bigots continue to argue that “those people” don’t need “special rights or protections” under the law, here’s some of what’s been going on recently…

In Texas, a judge enforced a clause in Carolyn Compton’s divorce papers which states that, “someone who has a ‘dating or intimate relationship’ with the person or is not related ‘by blood or marriage’ is not allowed after 9 p.m. when the children are present.” Since Carolyn’s partner of three years is a woman and Texas has laws against same-sex marriage, the judge has essentially made it illegal for them to live together.

In New York, Elliot Morales shot Marc Carson, a gay man, in the face at point blank range, killing him. Elliot had followed Carson and his companion, and was heard yelling anti-gay slurs and asking, “You want to die tonight?”

In Chatham, Canada, an openly gay 13-year-old boy was attacked by four older teenagers, who called him “faggot” and “queer,” told him he was going to hell, and beat him. One of the boys pulled a knife and threatened to kill him.

Rep. Mark Pocan became the first member of Congress to obtain a congressional ID card identifying his same-sex partner as his spouse. However, his husband is still legally excluded from receiving health, pension, and other benefits.

In Washington state, lawmakers have proposed a bill that would provide an exception to anti-discrimination law and allow businesses to refuse service based on sexual orientation.

David and Jason married in New York in 2012, but Jason is a UK citizen. As a result, Jason is unable to stay in the country. In order to see his husband, Jason has to get a Tourist Visa, which allows them to be together for 90 days. Jason is now being warned that he’s used too many Tourist Visas, and has been advised to stay out of the U.S. for at least six months.

In New York, two gay men were pursued by a group that shouted anti-gay slurs and then beat them. Both victims were hospitalized. One required eye surgery.

So go ahead. Explain to me why we’re still denying people equal rights and protection under the law. Explain to me why any of this is okay. Explain how you sleep at night, knowing that these things are the direct result of our refusal to recognize “those people” as equal. Or even to recognize them as people.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

http://www.benjaminrosenbaum.com/blog/archives/2013_05.html#001016

I read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy before I'd done much traveling myself. I suppose I'd followed my parents on one trip or another, but they'd been in charge of the packing, and in any event, traveling with your parents is not exactly hitchhiking the galaxy.

I believed the thing about the towel. I knew I was unlikely to run into the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal, or even sail the slow heavy River Moth. Still, I figured these exotic uses stood in for real-world analogues. I thought this fancy was built upon a foundation of rugged, devil-may-care British traveler acumen. I thought that, Bugblattter Beast or not, traveling with a towel really would, in one way or another, make you a hoopy frood. I resolved that when I was big, and traipsing the world, I would always know where my towel was.

The thing is, though, that a towel is actually not really a very useful thing to pack. If you are staying in a hotel, they give you a towel. If you are couchsurfing, you bum one off your friends. If you are back-country camping or Eurailing or trekking across the Gobi, you need to pack really light, and so you evaluate every cubic centimeter in terms of its utility, and, really, a towel rarely wins. If it's warm out you can pretty much air-dry, and in a pinch you can always dry yourself off with a long-sleeved shirt and hang it up. The only exception is beach vacations. And youth hostels, which do ask you to bring a towel. Even then, you can probably borrow or rent one.

This is not to say that no one packs towels, just that if you are the sort of person who packs a towel for a non-beach trip, you probably also pack alcohol gel for cleaning your hands, and pillow in case you don't like the one on the bed there, and a scissors, and band-aids, and slippers, and a sweater even if you're going somewhere warm. You are not, in other words, necessarily Ford Prefect.

Each time I pack, I consider taking a towel, because of Douglas Adams. And, generally, I decide not to. And each time, there is a little bit of grief, because Douglas Adams lied to me.

I am packing for Wiscon today, and I will not pack a towel. Fuck you, Douglas Adams. I know where my towel is. It's at home.

On Facebook last week, I mentioned that I seem to be collecting D-themed diseases. First diabetes, then depression. Now I have a third one to add to the mix.

During Penguicon, my wife noticed what looked like an elongated callus on my right hand, below the ring finger. (Spoiler: It’s not a tumor.) When it was still there two weeks later, I hopped online to do a little research, then went in to talk to the doctor. His diagnosis confirmed my guess, and the winner is…

Dupuytren’s Contracture

That link goes to the Wikipedia page, which includes a post-surgical picture with incision and stitches, so don’t click if that kind of stuff gets to you.

Basically, some connective tissue in my hand is misbehaving, which starts to restrict the extension of the tendon. Right now, it’s just a little vertical speed bump on my palm. Eventually, it will restrict the movement of my ring finger, and I won’t be able to extend it beyond a curved, clawlike position.

I think of this soon-to-be claw as the first step in my very, very slow transformation into a werewolf.

The good news is that it’s not painful, and it’s fairly straightforward to correct. Basically, the doctor said to let him know when it starts to become a problem, at which point he’ll hook me up with a hand surgeon to go in and clean out the affected tissue. Six weeks of recovery and physical therapy, and I’m good to go.

Note: I’m not looking for medical advice.

Dupuytren is less common in people my age. I guess I’m just precocious. There seems to be a correlation to diabetes as well. And it sounds like there’s a decent chance of recurrence in the long run.

Compared to some of the medical complications I’ve seen friends and family deal with, this is little more than an annoyance right now. I am a little anxious about the eventual surgery, though. I’m a writer, which is a much easier job for me to do with functional hands.

Fortunately, I should have a little while–maybe a few years?–before that becomes necessary.

The silver lining: It looks like the surgery leaves a zig-zag scar on your palm, which means after I heal, I’ll be able to tell people I stopped a Killing Curse WITH MY BARE HAND!

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.