Avallu, 2016-2026

Mar. 28th, 2026 08:30 pm
jazzfish: a black-haired man with a big sword. blood stains the snow behind (Eddard Stark)
[personal profile] jazzfish
Erin's dog Avallu is gone. He was throwing up yesterday, Erin took him in to the vet today, and he didn't come home. Cancer, ruptured spleen, a large dog and ten years old.

Avallu was a Tornjak, a big fluffy livestock guardian dog. Mostly white; brown facemask, speckled muzzle, and a dark patch over his hindquarters. He came from somewhere in Europe. Erin and I picked him up in Van and drove him north to Fort.

Once the fence went up, and once he learned to stay inside it, he was an exemplary guardian. He chased off lynx and bears; he was polite to the cats and the various fowl. It took him awhile to warm up to Solly the new pup a couple of years ago, but eventually they (and Thea, a little younger than Avallu but arrived slightly before him) worked out a routine to keep the place safe. He was, I suspect, always a bit anxious. We got on well. I'd stand outside, watching birds or pigs or Erin, and he'd come and stand next to me, his hip pressed into my thigh.

I don't really have stories about Avallu, not like Whiskey being a scaredycat until he discovered that petting is Good or Void Demon the cat who 'doesn't like people' settling in on my lap. He was just always there, a solid presence in the chaos of farm life. He was the best of pups.
jazzfish: an open bottle of ether, and George conked out (Ether George)
[personal profile] jazzfish
Cleaners and "floor-planner" and photographer come today, starting in just under half an hour, and then we list on Monday (for what I had realistically and then optimistically hoped to get, which in practice in this market means probably somewhat less but eh).

Corvaric is about three-quarters of the way to being a blank slate. The last couple of days have entailed packing up things I still need, so that it will Look Nice for the photographs. (I shall unpack at least some of them once today is over with.) This has been frustrating because it means finding a Home for things that already HAVE a Home and are in it. But it's pretty much ready to go. I have even done some v basic spackle and paint work, for which I had to buy an entire gallon of paint because they didn't have any quart containers, but maybe the next people will appreciate it.

My brain can apparently only cope with so much at a time. I know that I'm going to the Gathering next month but I have been unable to plan for that in any real way, like timing or plane tickets or anything. Far as my brain is concerned, things that happen after Monday don't really exist. April is a nebulous blur and past that, I get nothing, it's a huge blank.

Facebook reminds me that four years ago I was standing in an apartment surrounded by boxes. I guess it's a small win for my psyche that the boxes are in a storage unit this time.

I'm gonna miss this place. It is Too Small but not by a whole lot: a second bedroom for a library/office would have made it perfect. (The unit upstairs from mine, with the same floorplan but with the addition of a loft over the kitchen, was for sale about a year before I bought my place. For, as I recall, what I'm asking now. O, Vancouver.) I've even mostly reconciled to the kitchen having an insufficiency of counterspace and drawers. I won't miss the Stifling In Summer, though. Or the upstairs neighbours who vacuum and galumph at all hours, though they probably won't miss the viola playing either, so, fair enough.

I've had the Paranoid Style's "Doug Yule" stuck in my head for the last few days. It's loosely about the guy who Lou Reed recruited to turn the Velvet Underground from a set of clashing personalities making really interesting music to the Lou Reed Backup Band, while the rest of the band quit one by one, eventually including Reed himself. I've rehearsed and rehearsed that my life is a curse / I've been driven away in a rudderless hearse / I've made things that were merely awful much much much much much worse (much worse) (much worse). (Interestingly I think that verse is written to be from the perspective of Sterling Morrison, the second VU member to leave after Reed fired John Cale. I think the verses are each from a different VU member, and the choruses from Reed. I appreciate that a lot.)

Onward to face the day.
mrissa: (Default)
[personal profile] mrissa
 

This is more partial even than usual, because I've had some download problems that I've since fixed. But we can let that filter out to the second quarter; time waits for etc. etc.

This Is Not a Love Poem, Alexandra Dawson (Reckoning)

I Met You On the Train, J. R. Dawson (Uncanny)

The Doorkeepers, A. T. Greenblatt (Uncanny)

Unsettled Nature, Jordan Kurella (Apex)

Straw Gold, Mari Ness (Small Wonders)

No Kings/No Soldiers, A.M. Tuomala (Uncanny)

Blade Through the Heart, Carrie Vaughn (Reactor)

Antediluvian, Rem Wigmore (Reckoning)

"yeah... it's weird."

Mar. 23rd, 2026 02:04 pm
jazzfish: Jazz Fish: beret, sunglasses, saxophone (Default)
[personal profile] jazzfish
Ugh, I don't know. Feeling restless and mildly discontented. At least there's sun today.

A week and a half ago I located my spare viola strings (leftover from the last time I changed strings, whenever that was), picked up a 1/8-size cello G, and restrung my viola to a tenor. I'm liking it an awful lot. It's certainly harder to play. I've switched to my cello bow, which is heavier than the viola bow, and it still requires significant deliberate pressure to get a halfway decent sound. Left-hand work feels slower too. Might be a result of the higher tension on the strings making them harder to press down, I guess?

But: I like it. I like the way it sounds, I like the way it feels to play. I find myself in the position of actively wanting to practice. I'm doing something that I enjoy and calls to me, and that I'm happy about afterwards. It's been a really long time since I had something like that. I suspect the social aspect helps. I took it out to the session last Wednesday and it blended in well: not drowning anyone out, not getting drowned out. I need a great deal of practice but that's no surprise. And fixable.

When I have money (cue bitter laughter) I may look into getting a proper tenor viola, instead of hoping the higher tension on the strings doesn't cause damage. There's this guy in Georgia who makes them, and he's put a decent amount of effort into the design. His tenor/octave violas have thicker bodies, and are fatter at the bottom ('a wide lower bout') but not at the top, so you get a bigger resonance chamber and can still get your left arm around to reach the neck.



Two weeks ago the movers cleared out half my stuff. Unsurprisingly the place looks much bigger and brighter. It's nice to have more light, granted... but it's just so empty. Hm. Likely affecting my mood.

I'd like to have my books back, too. I don't require them to be visible at all times, I'd be happy with a separate library room, but I do want them accessible. Good information to have. I probably could cut ruthlessly but there's no need, not immediately anyway.

Rhonda the realtor came by last week and took some reference photos. She emailed me today to say that the real photographer can come on Friday and we can list on Monday. Works for me. Gives me a few more days to finish moving extraneous stuff to the storage unit, now that I know I've got a little more room in there than I was afraid of. Still no idea what the market will be like; guess we'll find out in a couple of weeks.

Still in a holding pattern, but I can see the beginnings of what might be movement.
The Pattern Recognition TV series? I have no idea. Awhile ago I called my Hollywood agent -- who was Harlan Ellison's Hollywood agent, to give you an idea how long he's been in the business -- and asked him about it. He said, "Well, it's starting to look almost exactly like something does right before it goes into production." And I got excited and said, "Really?" and he said, "Yeah... it's weird."

--William Gibson, c.2013
mrissa: (Default)
[personal profile] mrissa
 

Review copy provided by the publisher. Also the author is a friend.

This morning I wrote to another friend, "I've finished reading Amal's new collection, and now the only problem is how to write a review that's laudatory enough." "A good problem to have," my friend correctly noted.

Seriously, though. I've read most of these stories before, but when I came to each one, it was a matter of, "Oh, I loved this one!" rather than "Oh yeah, this one." There is a stylistic and thematic inclination to the stories that never rises to sameness. It's such a distillation of why I have been consistently happy to see these stories (and a few poems!) in the venues where they've appeared, for the years they've been appearing.

If you were hoping that this would be a source of new Amal stories, you'll have to keep waiting, this is the kind of collection that's a culmination of previous work rather than a revelation of new. But it's a beautiful slim volume, I'm thrilled to have it, I will press it upon my friends and relations, hurrah. Hurrah.

Books read, early March

Mar. 16th, 2026 08:50 pm
mrissa: (Default)
[personal profile] mrissa
 

Ruth Awad, Set to Music a Wildfire. A poetry collection that is very directly about her experiences as a daughter of a Lebanese immigrant and her father's experiences in Lebanon. Interesting but not particularly subtle; I'm not sure it's fair to demand subtlety on these topics.

M.H. Ayinde, A Song of Legends Lost. A thumping big fantasy. Did I read this because one of the characters is eating plantains very early on and I love plantains? Well. That wasn't the only reason. But the things it said about the worldbuilding drew me in and kept me going for many hundred pages.

Shane Bobrycki, The Crowd in the Early Middle Ages. Bobrycki noticed a gaping hole between the Roman Empire and the Renaissance when it came to the influence of large group behavior in Europe, and this book is him examining what we know about that, what crowds there actually were, what impact they had on the life of their cultures and why. He manages to remember that Europe does not just mean Italy at first and later France and England, which is always nice.

Eliane Boey, Club Contango. I really like Boey's prose, and this started out well for me, but as the narrative bore inexorably down on the plot twist and I could no longer pretend it would not be that particular plot twist--which I had foreseen at the very beginning and really hoped it would not be--I grew more and more frustrated. Here's hoping her next thing doesn't lean on a twist of that particular sort.

Sarah E. Bond, Strike: Labor, Unions, and Resistance in the Roman Empire. Bond is clear and explicit about where she's drawing parallels between modern unions and ancient groups that have similar traits, and she's willing to make her arguments about them specific rather than handwavey. A corrective for too much of the assumption that the people of the past were not like us, and an angle on the ancient world more interesting to me than most.

Michael Brown, The Wars of Scotland, 1214-1371. Definitely what it says on the tin, from the top-down perspective rather than anything about what these wars were like for the rank and file. Did you know the Scots were not a restful people in this era? welp.

Steph Cherrywell, The Ink Witch. I loved this so much. It's MG fantasy that's actually funny rather than adult-trying-too-hard, it's got ink magic and a tarantula familiar and a lovely fierce trans heroine whose plot is not about being trans, it's about magic quests and family politics and mermaids and yeti and running a little motel. It's so great, I'm so happy about this book.

P.F. Chisholm, A Taste of Witchcraft. At this point in this series (this is book 10, don't start here), we are no longer talking about an historical murder mystery series but more generally an historical adventure series. This one goes very, very vividly into the tortures accused witches suffered, so if you're not feeling up for that, maybe not this one. It also features quite a bit of my favorite characters in the series, though.

Sunyi Dean, The Girl With a Thousand Faces. Discussed elsewhere.

Nicola Griffith, She Is Here. A short collection of essays, poems, and short stories. Most of the essays were familiar to me from previous sources, but they go well here thematically. I love Griffith's novels, but her shorter work does not feel as strong or essential to me. For me this is a nice-to-have, not a must-have.

Bassem Khandaqji, A Mask the Color of the Sky. A novel about a young Palestinian man who has aspirations in both archaeology and fiction--who is writing a novel about Mary Magdalen, or trying to--who looks at the wider world and wants a wider life. And then he finds an ID that will allow him, with his particular appearance, to readily pass as a Jewish Israeli, and he does that for a while, and it's the sort of book where the complications are primarily internal, emotional, mental, about his place in the world and his identity, rather than thriller novel shooty-shoot complications. It's short and fairly straightforward.

Margrit Pernau, Emotions and Temporalities. Kindle. This is one of a series of short monographs that I downloaded a while ago, and it's the first where I've really felt that the format limited content beyond what was useful. I wanted a lot more context on emotionality and assessments of past/present/future in the cultures Pernau was discussing; I felt like more and longer examples would have strongly benefitted her argument. Ah well, I'm told you can't win them all.

Dana Simpson, Unicorn Secrets. This is the latest of a collection of daily strips of the comic Phoebe & Her Unicorn, which I don't read daily, I read them in collection form. It is nice and fun and nice. Is this the best of them, no, but it does what I wanted it to do, it is a pleasant diversion.

Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle. Reread. So one of the things I didn't fully notice when I read this the first time, 25 years ago on a friend's futon waiting for another friend's wedding, is that this is an almost perfect balance of Victorian and modern novel. Specifically: money is allowed to be the main concern. Money is discussed in detail, what food you can get for it and what clothes and what marriage will do about it and how we feel about that. Marriage is still considered to be the main way that women handle money, but no longer the only way (and the ending makes that matter rather than blurring to a romantic "isn't it lovely that the marrying couple just happens to have enough funds after all?" that some of the other books both Victorian and modern fall back on). It is very matter-of-fact about sex and sexuality for its publication date, but not in a smarmy or overbalanced way. This is also one of fiction's non-evil stepmothers, and bless her for that.

D.E. Stevenson, Miss Buncle's Book. Kindle. A very gentle comedy about a spinster in a small village who writes a novel with keen observations of all her neighbors and sets the whole town on its ear. I'm fascinated by the line Stevenson manages to walk between letting the Great Depression feel real (Miss Buncle needs her book to make her money! it's not quite as money-focused as I Capture the Castle but still) and still keeping it upbeat for the people who were reading the book as an escape from that very same Great Depression. Not terribly deep, fairly predictable in its larger plot though not necessarily in its scene incidentals, fun all the same.

Ethan Tapper, How to Love a Forest: The Bittersweet Work of Tending a Changing World. I was a bit disappointed in this, which aims at being a lyrical memoir of a life in forestry. The lyricism is repetitive (which is harder to forgive considering how short this volume is) and in places twee (writing some sections about himself in the third person as "the man" did not work for me), and in general there was a great deal less how than I hoped for. He talked about what he was doing, he even talked in general terms about those who might not understand how killing plants could help a forest ecosystem. But as it was memoir rather than science essay, he felt no need to go into the evidence behind his positions--and, crucially, actions.

Jo Walton and Ada Palmer, Trace Elements: Conversations on the Project of Science Fiction and Fantasy. Discussed elsewhere.

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