realpestilence's Journal
 
[Most Recent Entries] [Calendar View] [Friends]

Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in realpestilence's InsaneJournal:

    [ << Previous 20 ]
    Tuesday, October 11th, 2011
    11:35 pm
    Mississippi Personhood Amendment
    Originally posted by chez_jaeat Mississippi Personhood Amendment
    Originally posted by gabrielleabelleat Mississippi Personhood Amendment

    FYI-I copied this from melodious329-I wasn't the one who made the donation.


    I don't know how to mirror posts from LJ here, so I'm sure these links are going to be messed up. If you want more info, you can either look at my LJ, or at the lj for chez_jaeat, gabrielleabelleat, or melodious329. I just wanted another venue to get the word out, because this is the first I've seen about this business, and it alarms me.






    Mississippi is voting on November 8th on whether to pass Amendment 26, the "Personhood Amendment". This amendment would grant fertilized eggs and fetuses personhood status.

    Putting aside the contentious issue of abortion, this would effectively outlaw birth control and criminalize women who have miscarriages. This is not a good thing.

    Jackson Women's Health Organization is the only place women can get abortions in the entire state, and they are trying to launch a grassroots movement against this amendment. This doesn't just apply to Mississippi, though, as Personhood USA, the group that introduced this amendment, is trying to introduce identical amendments in all 50 states.

    What's more, in Mississippi, this amendment is expected to pass. It even has Mississippi Democrats, including the Attorney General, Jim Hood, backing it.

    The reason I'm posting this here is because I made a meager donation to the Jackson Women's Health Organization this morning, and I received a personal email back hours later - on a Sunday - thanking me and noting that I'm one of the first "outside" people to contribute.

    So if you sometimes pass on political action because you figure that enough other people will do something to make a difference, make an exception on this one. My RSS reader is near silent on this amendment. I only found out about it through a feminist blog. The mainstream media is not reporting on it.

    If there is ever a time to donate or send a letter in protest, this would be it.

    What to do?

    - Read up on it. Wake Up, Mississippi is the home of the grassroots effort to fight this amendment. Daily Kos also has a thorough story on it.

    - If you can afford it, you can donate at the site's link.

    - You can contact the Democratic National Committee to see why more of our representatives aren't speaking out against this.

    - Like this Facebook page to help spread awareness.


    Current Mood: scared
    Wednesday, July 27th, 2011
    9:58 pm
    I'm overdrawn at the bank, thanks to my hours being cut so much...
    these last 3 months. Kids are out for summer vacation, and our store gets very, very slow. It'll get better, once they go back to school-we hope. The company's starting this computer automated scheduling, and I doubt that'll work out in our favor.

    I'd be ok-unhappy and worried, but basically ok, if it weren't for the fact that my dad and brother are supposed to bring me the car next week. Finally!...except I have no money. I do have the $500 down that we agreed on, but I can't afford tags or insurance...and I'd really rather use that money for rent. I did tell my dad, but I don't know if he really gets how bad it is.

    I wish they'd just give me the car. But I can't ask for that, and I highly doubt they would, anyways. I NEED that car so I can look for work more effectively, and be able to get to/get home from any job I might find (much more reliably than the bus), but I can't afford it. If I had the other job, I could afford it, but I can't get it without the car! Catch-22.

    If they'd brought me the car 3 months ago, I'd have had the money, no problem. But they couldn't do it then, because they were straightening things out after mom's death. I don't blame them at all, but it is...bad timing.


    This is the roughest it's been since I was first laid off from the office in September. I only made it through then because of a friend's extreme (and unexpected) kindness. I just hope my dad can and will do something, even though it's not really fair of me to ask, or I don't know what I'll do about that car.

     

    You know, I joked with him about "if I have the car, at least I'll have a place to live". But I wasn't really joking. 




    Can't post at LJ, so might as well try DW and IJ. I had to get it out somewhere. D:

    Thursday, May 19th, 2011
    10:33 am
    Lytol-centril Pern fic rec
    every new beginning (comes from some other beginning's end), by Penknife


    http://archiveofourown.org/works/31627



    It's beautifully-written, and if you like Lytol, this is THE "must read" fic for him.

     

    Monday, January 31st, 2011
    7:05 am
    If you enjoy writing dark fic...
    dark_fest over at LJ has a multi-fandom prompt claim going on until Feb 8th. There's also a few "any fandom" prompts, in case your fandom isn't represented.


    http://community.livejournal.com/dark_fest/31710.html



    There's some DCU prompts I'm hoping get claimed!
    Saturday, September 12th, 2009
    10:18 am
    by A.E.Houseman (with the lyrical title "XXXVII")
    I did not lose my heart in summer's even,
    When roses to the moonrise burst apart:
    When plumes were under heel and lead was flying,
    In blood and smoke and flame I lost my heart.

    I lost it to a soldier and a foeman,
    A chap that did not kill me, but he tried;
    That took the sabre straight and took it striking,
    And laughed and kissed his hand to me and died.

    Current Mood: contemplative
    9:37 am
    Guitar Repair Woman by Buddy Wakefield
    My mother told me,
    "If you ever become a rock star
    do not smash the guitar.
    There are too many poor kids out there
    who have nothin'
    and they see that shit
    when all they wanna do is play that thing.
    Boy
    you better let'm play."

    Okay, if she ever starts in on one of these 
    lectures,
    your best bet is to pull up a chair, chief,
    'cause Momma don't deal in the abridged
    version.

    She worries about me so much some days
    it feels like I'm watching windshield wipers
    on high speed
    during a light sprinkle
    and I gotta tell'er, "Ma,
    yer makin' me nervous."

    She was born to be laid back,
    y'all, I swear,
    but some of us were brought up in households
    where Care Free
    is a stick of gum,
    and the only option for getting out
    is to walk faster.

    The woman 
    can run
    in high heels
    backwards
    while bursting my bubble,
    double checking my homework,
    rolling enough pennies
    to make sure I have lunch money,
    and preparing for a meeting at school
    on her only day off
    so she can tell Miss Goss the music teacher,
    "If you ever touch my boy again, big lady,
    I'll bounce a hammer off yer skull."

    I remember her doing these things swiftly
    and with a smile
    in her discounted thrift store business suits off
    layaway.
    She wore them bright and distinguished
    enough
    to cover up the 30 years of highway scars
    truckin' through her spine.
    Some accidents
    you don't need to see, rubbernecker.
    Keep movin'
    'cause she made it.
    She's alive
    and she's famous.

    We can stretch Van Gogh paintings
    from Kilgore, TX to Binghamton, NY
    and you still won't find the brilliant brush
    strokes
    it takes to be a single mother
    sacrificing the best part of her dreams
    to raise a baby boy who-on most days-
    she probably wants to strangle.

    We disagree-a lot.
    For instance, she still thinks it's okay
    to carry on a conversation
    full throttle
    at 7 a.m.
    whereas I think...
    Oh, wait, I'm sorry...
    I don't think at seven in the morning.

    But we both agree that 
    Love
    makes no mistakes.
    So at night time,
    when she's winding down
    and I'm still writing books about
    how to get comfortable in this skin she gave me,
    I see rock stars on stages
    smashing guitars.
    It's then when I wanna find'm a comfortable chair
    get'm a snack,
    and introduce them to Daylight:

    This is my mother,
    Tresa B. Olsen.
    Runner of the tight shift.
    Taker of the temperature.
    Leaver of the light on.
    Lover of the underdog.
    Mover of the mountain.
    Winner of the good life.
    Keeper of the 
    hope
    chest.
    Guitar
    Repair
    Woman.

    And I am her son,
    Buddy Wakefield.
    I play a tricked-out electric pen,
    thanks to the makers of music and metaphor,
    but I do my best to keep the words in check,
    and I use a padded microphone
    so I don't hurt you,
    because sometimes I smash things,
    and I don't ever wanna let'er down.

    Current Mood: contemplative
    Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008
    4:07 pm
    Joy, by Gennady Alexeyev (translated from the original Russian)
    Be careful
    when you partake of joy.
    Just as a pike, joy
    contains countless small bones.
    Having swallowed it up
    wash it down
    with a glass of light, transparent sadness.
    It shall be of some benefit
    to your health.
    After a short period of melancholy
    get back to joy.

    Don’t be lazy about enjoying yourself,
    do it as often as you can.
    Don’t be ashamed of it,
    enjoy yourself openly.
    Don’t be afraid of it,
    enjoy yourself without fear.
    Don’t listen to anybody,
    enjoy yourself on your own.

    Who knows, maybe those who watch you
    will also acquire a taste
    for joy?

    Current Mood: curious
    10:47 am
    Belly Dancer, by Diane Wakoski
    Can these movements which move themselves
    be the substance of my attraction?
    Where does this thin green silk come from that covers my body?
    Surely any woman wearing such fabrics
    would move her body just to feel them touching every part of her.

    Yet most of the women frown, or look away, or laugh stiffly.
    They are afraid of these materials and these movements
    in some way.
    The psychologists would say they are afraid of themselves, somehow.
    Perhaps awakening too much desire—
    that their men could never satisfy?
    So they keep themselves laced and buttoned and made up
    in hopes that the framework will keep them stiff enough not to feel
    the whole register.
    In hopes that they will not have to experience that unquenchable
    desire for rhythm and contact.

    If a snake glided across this floor
    most of them would faint or shrink away.
    Yet that movement could be their own.
    That smooth movement frightens them—
    awakening ancestors and relatives to the tips of the arms and toes.

    So my bare feet
    and my thin green silks
    my bells and finger cymbals
    offend them—frighten their old-young bodies.
    While the men simper and leer—
    glad for the vicarious experience and exercise.
    They do not realize how I scorn them;
    or how I dance for their frightened,
    unawakened, sweet
    women.


    Current Mood: pleased
    Monday, September 1st, 2008
    11:33 pm
    looking, by Gwendolyn Brooks
    looking



    You have no word for soldiers to enjoy
    The feel of, as an apple, and to chew
    With masculine satisfaction. Not "good-by!"
    "Come back!" or "careful!" Look, and let him go.
    "Good-by!" is brutal, and "come back!" the raw
    Insistence of an idle desperation
    Since could he favor he would favor now.
    He will be "careful!" if he has permission.
    Looking is better. At the dissolution
    Grab greatly with the eye, crush in a steel
    Of study-Even that is vain. Expression, 
    The touch or look or word, will little avail.
    The brawniest will not beat back the storm
    Nor the heaviest haul your little boy from harm.



    Current Mood: sad
    11:00 pm
    The Rabbit Catcher, by Sylvia Plath
    It was a place of force-
    The wind gagging my mouth with my own blown hair,
    Tearing off my voice, and the sea
    Blinding me with its lights, the lives of the dead
    Unreeling in it, spreading like oil.

    I tasted the malignity of the gorse,
    Its black spikes,
    The extreme unction of its yellow candle-flowers.
    They had an efficiency, a great beauty,
    And were extravagant, like torture.

    There was only one place to get to.
    Simmering, perfumed,
    The paths narrowed into the hollow
    And the snares almost effaced themselves-
    Zeroes, shutting on nothing,

    Set close, like birth pangs.
    The absence of shrieks
    Made a hole in the hot day, a vacancy.
    The glassy light was a clear wall,
    The thickets quiet.

    I felt a still busyness, an intent.
    I felt hands round a tea mug, dull, blunt,
    Ringing the white china.
    How they awaited him, those little deaths!
    They waited like sweethearts. They excited him.

    And we, too, had a relationship-
    Tight wires between us,
    Pegs too deep to uproot, and a mind like a ring
    Sliding shut on some quick thing,
    The constriction killing me also.

    Current Mood: restless
    10:50 pm
    September 1, 1939-by John Auden


    Current Mood: contemplative
    10:41 pm
    The Evening Sunsets Witness and Pass On, by Carl Sandberg


    Passion may call for a partner
    to share the music of its bones,
    to weave shadows, rain, moonshine, dreams-
    Passion may hammer on hard door panels,
    empty a hot vocabulary of wanting, wanting-
    it is all there in the fragments of Sappho.

    Passion may consider poppies cheap
    with their strong stalks in the wind,
    with their crying crimson sheaths-
    Passion may remember tiger lilies,
    keepers of a creeping evening mist,
    tawny watchers of the morning stars-
    Passion may cry to the moon
    for miracles of flesh,
    for red answers to a white riddle-
    it is told in the tears on many love letters.

    Passion may spend its money,
    its youth, its laughter, all else,
    till again passion is alone
    spending its cries to the moon-
    and some weep, some sing, some go to war.
    Passion may be alone at a window
    seeking kisses fasten lips in wild troths,
    a storm of red silk scarfs in a high wind,
    armfuls of redbirds let loose into bush and sky-
    and some weep, some sing, some go to war.

    Passion  may come with baskets
    throwing paths of red rain flowers,
    each folded petal a sacrament-
    the evening sunsets witness and pass on.
    Passion may build itself houses of air
    and look from a thousand tall windows
    till the wind rides and gathers.

    Passion may be a wind child
    transient and made of air-
    Passion may be a wild grass
    where a great wind came and went.

    The evening sunsets witness and pass on.


    Current Mood: pleased
    10:18 pm
    Is there any way to delete past entries? There's a few I wouldn't mind getting rid of, just for tidiness. *shrugs*

    Current Mood: apathetic
    Tuesday, May 27th, 2008
    7:03 am
    fic recs, please?
    If anyone has any fic recs for some top!Draco/bottom!Harry or top!Severus/bottom!Harry that they'd be willing to share links for, I'd appreciate it. 


    We're trying to get the Mounted Empire groups more active and I don't have access to the lists that Mystic kept, yet...possibly won't, at all. Still waiting for her to respond.

    Current Mood: tired
    Sunday, May 11th, 2008
    9:14 pm
    Being reminded by [info]magic_helmetthat I have this place, I guess I ought to dust it off and post a bit. Because y'all can't live without my random bitchin', right?

    *blinks*


    It would be easier if I actually had something to *say*. 


    *crickets*



    Um. I'm thinking about re-reading the Harry Potter books, both to remind myself why I originally enjoyed the fandom and to brush up on canon details in the latter few books. I've not read DH itself. I'm feeling weary at the prospect, which is sad, because I *did* like the first two very much. I thought the third was interesting (even though I don't get why the girls squeal over Sirius, who was an ass); thought the fourth had a lot of great ideas but was toooo looooong and wordy, ye gods please EDIT and keep on track, plot-wise; and the fifth was disappointing. If it's called HBP, it should be about the HBP, don't you think? At least a bit? And, as I said, I've not read the last one. *shrugs*

    I've come to realize that I dislike Dumbledore intensely; I dislike most of the adults in the HP world, actually. I will also rant at great length if provoked on the general poor editing done to keep these behomeths under control.  

    I do admire the books for the concept Rowling started out with and the impact they've had on children's publishing and getting many people more interested in reading; but on the whole, they're sloppily done. 


    But I still think I ought to re-read them at least once, all in a row, so I can throw some writing challenges out there. HP is a dying fandom and in another couple of years, I wouldn't be surprised to see most of the groups or comms defunct. I'll be a little sad, because that's where I started out and what gave me a foothold on ye olde internet world, but not surprised.

    Current Mood: blah
    Wednesday, February 20th, 2008
    4:05 am
    I'd appreciate the assistance very much...
    Can someone tell me how to leave an asylum? I don't want to be in that asylum_promo IJ any more, but I can't find any buttons that say "leave community" or similar, like LJ has. *scowls*

    Current Mood: annoyed
    Tuesday, January 15th, 2008
    8:23 pm
    #52-'Red As Blood'-Tanith Lee (last 2007 50book entry!)
    #52-'Red As Blood'-by Tanith Lee. This is a short story collection of re-told fairy tales. Lee's a good short story writer and these stories become unsettling in her hands, often vaguely erotic and rather unnerving. I was reading it anyways so I could copy the ones I like best to my lj (see "Wolfland"), so I figured I might as well go along and read the whole thing. 

    I think 'Wolfland' and 'Paid Piper" are my favorites, with "Red as Blood" and 'When the Clock Strikes'  close seconds.

    Current Mood: excited
    8:21 pm
    #51-'Around the World in 80 Days'-Jules Verne
    #51-'Around the World in 80 Days', by Jules Verne, is a favorite classic of mine. It's amusing, adventurous, with a dash of action here and a spot of romance there-and the prose is easy to read, rather timeless, unlike some classics that date badly.

    Phileas Fogg makes a bet that he can travel around the world in 80 days and stakes half  his fortune on it-he'll need the other half to make the trip, what with bribes and elephants and burning up steamships and dashing rescues and all. He takes along his interesting servant, Passpartout, and acquires companions along the way...and cares not a whit for the scenery as he travels. He's on business, not touring! *laughs*

    If you can find the made-for-tv filmed version of this book, starring Pierce Brosnan as Phileas, it's a lot of fun to watch. Verne had a great imagination and is one of my favorite authors from that time period (the other being Edgar Rice Burroughs).

    Current Mood: amused
    8:19 pm
    #50-'The Best of Robert Service"-poetry collection by same
    #50 (whoohoo, I did it!)-'The Best of Robert Service'-poetry collection by Robert Service. 


    Robert Service wrote many poems, greatly varied is subject; he's particularly known for the ones about the Gold Rush and the Yukon frontier. There's some off-hand, humorous ditties in there, too, war poems, and the odd nature piece. I like a lot of his work, though it's difficult to read en masse like this; he tends to go for the 'story' over the rhyme or meter, so the poem can be difficult to read. I think if I hadn't been reading for the challenge, I'd have only picked up the book to do a few pages at a time, for easier absorption. 

    However, don't let that stop you-imo, he is worth reading.




    Ant Hill


    Black ants have made a musty mound
    My purple pine tree under,
    And I am often to be found,
    Regarding it with wonder.
    Yet as I watch, somehow it's odd,
    Above their busy striving
    I feel like an ironic god
    Surveying human striving.

    Then one day came my serving maid,
    And just in time I caught her,
    For on each lusty arm she weighed
    A pail of boiling water.
    Said she with glee:"When this I spill,
    Of life they'll soon be lacking."
    Said I:"If even one you kill,
    You bitch! I'll send you packing."

    Just think-ten thousand eager lives
    In that toil-won upcasting,
    Their homes, their babies and their wives
    Destroyed in one fell blasting!
    Imagine that swift-scalding  hell!...
    And though, mayhap, it seem a
    Fantastic, far-fetched parallel
    Remember...Hiroshima.








    Muguet


    'Twas on the sacred First of May
    I made a sentimental sally
    To buy myself a slender spray
    Of pearly lily of the valley;
    And setting it beside my bed,
    Dream back the smile of one now dead.

    But when I asked how much a spray?
    The figure seemed so astronomic
    I rather fear that my dismay
    Must have appeared a little comic.
    The price, the shopgirl gravely said,
    Alas! was fifteen francs a head.

    However, I said:"Give me three,
    And wrap them in a silver paper,
    And I will take them home with me,
    And light an 'in memoriam' taper,
    To one whose smile, so heaven bright,
    Was wont to make my darkness light."

    Then lo! I saw beside me stand
    A woman shabby, old and grey,
    Who pointed with a trembling hand
    And shyly asked: "How much are they?"
    But when I told her, sadly said:
    "I'll save my francs for milk and bread.

    Yet I've a daughter just sixteen,
    Long sick abed and oh so sad.
    I thought-well, how they would have been
    A gift, maybe, to make her glad..."
    And then I saw her eyes caress
    My blossoms with such wisftulness.

    I gave them:sought my garret bare,
    Knowing that she whom I had loved,
    Although no blooms I brought here there,
    Would have so tenderly approved...
    And in the dark I lay awhile,
    Seeing again her radiant smile.
    8:17 pm
    #49-'The Man Who Never Was'-Ewen Montagu
    #49-'The Man Who Never Was'-by Ewen Montagu, is a brief recounting of the "Operation Mincemeat" that played such a vital part in setting up the Allied invasion of Sicily in 1943. 


    Briefly stated, the "Man Who Never Was' was a corpse, dressed in an officer's uniform and carrying important, forged papers, who was set to drift in the ocean where he would be picked up by the Spaniards, who were sure to pass the info along to the Germans. There was an extreme amount of fine planning, from photos of his new "fiancee" to ticket stubs for the theater, included, to flesh out Major Martin's personality; and then there were the confidential "old boy" letters from one Admiral to another...toss in a few rumors here, a few troop movements there, and we have a very risky cover deception that somehow, amazingly enough, worked. 


    The author, who was the originator of the plan, is a bit...hm, self-congratulatory about it-this was clearly his finest hour and wow, aren't we smugly pleased with ourselves for being British? Why, yes-yes, we are! However, it *is* a fascinating story and the book gives many previously unreleased behind-the-scenes details that are interesting for anyone with a taste for espionage or war history books. (You can blame my daddy for this one.)

    Current Mood: thoughtful
[ << Previous 20 ]
About InsaneJournal