(no subject)

I'm feeling very low on energy this morning; walked with Andy in the park, but didn't head off to the gym when he did. So I'm sitting here, not sure what I want to do, feeling vaguely left out of, well, nothing in particular.

I want a well-paid, interesting, job doing something meaningful. I don't need to save the world: but if I edit things, I want them to be things someone will actually read.

There ought to be a write-up of Sousa's "The Glass Blowers" here, but for the moment what you're getting is that it's Gilbert and Sullivan meets the Spanish-American War, except without all the patter songs. Instead, there are familiar bits of march music: they're going along, resolving an operetta plot, and the orchestra is playing "Three Cheers for the Red White and Blue" ("a duck may be somebody's mother").

(no subject)

I'm feeling very low on energy this morning; walked with Andy in the park, but didn't head off to the gym when he did. So I'm sitting here, not sure what I want to do, feeling vaguely left out of, well, nothing in particular.

I want a well-paid, interesting, job doing something meaningful. I don't need to save the world: but if I edit things, I want them to be things someone will actually read.

There ought to be a write-up of Sousa's "The Glass Blowers" here, but for the moment what you're getting is that it's Gilbert and Sullivan meets the Spanish-American War, except without all the patter songs. Instead, there are familiar bits of march music: they're going along, resolving an operetta plot, and the orchestra is playing "Three Cheers for the Red White and Blue" ("a duck may be somebody's mother").

nothing for me to worry about

But little good ever begins with "In case you haven't heard the news": http://www.newsday.com/news/local/newyork/ny-apex0425.story?coll=ny%2Dtop%2Dspan%2Dheadlines

Andy called to tell me that he'd walked past an explosion site five minutes before the explosion and building collapse. Nobody dead, and too soon to even be analyzing causes. I want to go home (she said, typing in her own living room).

nothing for me to worry about

But little good ever begins with "In case you haven't heard the news": http://www.newsday.com/news/local/newyork/ny-apex0425.story?coll=ny%2Dtop%2Dspan%2Dheadlines

Andy called to tell me that he'd walked past an explosion site five minutes before the explosion and building collapse. Nobody dead, and too soon to even be analyzing causes. I want to go home (she said, typing in her own living room).

bitch, bitch, bitch

Before seeing The Glass Blowers last night, I met Lise, Moshe, and Andrew Porter for dinner. In between various other stuff, Andrew asks me what happened to the rassef meetings. Nothing happened to them. He wanted to know why he isn't getting email anymore, and I explained that nobody is, and that they're announced on the newsgroup. So far, so good (or would be if I didn't find him irritating for hard-to-identify reasons). But then he tried to give me his email address so he could get reminders.

I explained, less patiently this time, that I'm not sending reminders by email. To anyone. That I'm doing the work, and it's enough work already, and if he's interested he can find the reminders on any of three different newsgroups. He claimed to be a fakefan in this regard; that's his privilege, but not wanting to read the newsgroup, or even skim it for subject lines or for threads started by me, doesn't entitle him to more of my time and energy.

It doesn't help that what he would generally do, when he showed up, is spend his time trying to convince other people to take home old fanzines that he didn't want anymore. If I were in a mood to make exceptions, I'd be making them for people who contributed to the conversation.

It also doesn't help that, in the same conversation in which he wanted me to do extra work because of software he won't use, he explained that he couldn't ask Harry Warner to write even a paragraph for two on a tight deadline, because Harry uses a typewriter, not email. Everyone, apparently, should use all but only the technology he finds convenient.

bitch, bitch, bitch

Before seeing The Glass Blowers last night, I met Lise, Moshe, and Andrew Porter for dinner. In between various other stuff, Andrew asks me what happened to the rassef meetings. Nothing happened to them. He wanted to know why he isn't getting email anymore, and I explained that nobody is, and that they're announced on the newsgroup. So far, so good (or would be if I didn't find him irritating for hard-to-identify reasons). But then he tried to give me his email address so he could get reminders.

I explained, less patiently this time, that I'm not sending reminders by email. To anyone. That I'm doing the work, and it's enough work already, and if he's interested he can find the reminders on any of three different newsgroups. He claimed to be a fakefan in this regard; that's his privilege, but not wanting to read the newsgroup, or even skim it for subject lines or for threads started by me, doesn't entitle him to more of my time and energy.

It doesn't help that what he would generally do, when he showed up, is spend his time trying to convince other people to take home old fanzines that he didn't want anymore. If I were in a mood to make exceptions, I'd be making them for people who contributed to the conversation.

It also doesn't help that, in the same conversation in which he wanted me to do extra work because of software he won't use, he explained that he couldn't ask Harry Warner to write even a paragraph for two on a tight deadline, because Harry uses a typewriter, not email. Everyone, apparently, should use all but only the technology he finds convenient.