15 November 2003
In my last night's dream, the printer was magically clean again, and people kept giving me books. Which is a pretty good dream, actually, but not so fabulous that I was sad to wake up.
Had a good time with Kari and Jake yesterday: we went out to lunch and hung out here and went to Byerly's and hung out here some more. I'll get to hang out with them (and Erica and Dillon and Kevin) for dinner tonight, too, and that'll be at Ciao Bella. I'm kind of psyching myself up for the wild mushroom lasagna. Last time we went, I did that and then ordered one of the specials instead, on the theory that the wild mushroom lasagna would be there next time. (As would the walleye sandwich and so on.) This time, the specials will have to look awfully good to surpass the promise of wild mushrooms.
I had a really good time at Pamela Dean's reading, too. Since it was a small reading, everyone got to talk to everyone a bit. There was no reading per se; it was just people asking questions and making comments and trying to figure out what was supposed to happen when. And that meant I got to talk to Pamela and David and Lydia a fairly large amount. And I like them, and they should come eat my food, and all will be well. Also, I learned that bile comes in four colors. No speculation as to what that would have done to humour theory. There were already two biles, right? Phlegm, blood, black bile, and yellow bile, I think were the fluids the medievals had down. I am restraining the urge to write to Lydia and ask her what the other two colors were, exactly, and formulate health and personality types based thereupon.
Readings are much more fun when you don't assume that everyone will be unfriendly and cold and dismissive. Then they aren't, and you're not surprised, and everybody's happy, or at least happier than they otherwise would have been.
Then C.J. and I wandered around and figured out that while we knew where we wanted to be and where we were, the only way I knew to get there was really really the long way, so we got different ice cream than we'd intended. And it was good anyway. (We don't settle for low-quality ice cream.)
I was flipping through Lost Twin Cities and Minnesota Monthly's restaurant issue, but those didn't feel like bedtime reading, for reasons I don't entirely understand, so I picked up Tom Stoppard's The Real Thing, which I got for cheap at the library book sale. It's not going to become my Stoppard favorite, but the man can turn a phrase, and sometimes a scene too. A play, I'm not so sure of in this case. But definitely a phrase and a scene.
I haven't mentioned it so far, but I feel pretty strongly about the Voter Confidence and Increased Accessibility Act. If there's no way to recount votes, there's no way to tell whether the democratic process is being served. And corruption is certainly possible in the current systems, but that doesn't mean we should move blithely to a more corruptible system. The EFF has an action page here; calling your congresscritter is also good.
Sigh. The last I heard, there were sixty-some Democrats in support of this bill and zero Republicans. This is such a basic issue that I can't really say, "Oh, well, but it balances with my major disagreement with the Democratic Party on X." With the Republican interests in voting machine companies, they really needed to take the lead on this one to prove that they're above corruption on it. They didn't. This is not just ominous but also politically stupid. Incompetent, in fact...unless they feel certain they'll win and won't have to care.
Write, call, demonstrate; write letters to whatever editors you please. (Although Stan Schmidt is unlikely to be able to do anything more than you can about it....) The short-term is pretty important here. Go, do.
I've heard people (Zed, mostly) talk about "an unblogged life is not worth living" vs. "an unlived life is not worth blogging." But right now the major issue in my life is that unwritten articles are not worth money. Not as catchy, and yet compelling in its very own way. Later.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.