I often get dishartened when I see women not standing up for themselves, yesterday we (and especially the US women) stood. So many of women, so many who hate crowds and never have been to a protest before went out and made themselves heard. Makes me proud and hopeful.
I hope we can find a way to channel this unifying protests into a movement to oppose the rise of fascism around the globe.
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I determine to go call upon Lady T-, for her approval would be most material to the Countess and her children, because she is everywhere known so most exceeding exacting.
She is sitting in her drawing-room with her lace-pillow upon her knee, but puts it aside and comes up to me, not only greets me extreme civil but kisses me upon the cheek and says sure has been an age, has it not been a most exhausting Season?
Indeed, says I, quite the whirl. But, dear Lady T-, I know you are not one that seeks out gossip, yet I daresay you have heard somewhat of this matter of the Earl of N-?
She gives a snort and says, sure 'tis a well-known matter that he would go pilfer plants, and one was oblig’d to instruct one’s gardeners to look aside and say nothing, and there were those endeavour’d excuse him by remarking upon his passion for hortickulture, but sure, did he come to dine, one would count the spoons very carefull. There is no sense to the matter, 'tis a freak, as we see with this matter of a serpent. I daresay 'tis not anything would get him clappt up in Bedlam or some discreet private house, but 'tis beyond a little eccentricity.
Quite so, says I, and one must consider that was he in a different station the matter would be lookt upon with considerable severity.
Entirely, says Lady T-. But I daresay that there is somewhat you would come at, Lady B-?
'Tis so, I confess. I have become quite the greatest of friends with the Countess of N- -
Lady T- sighs and says sure, that was a sad case. She was quite the lovelyest creature of the season when she came out – indeed Lady Emily M- has some look of her, have once or twice almost felt that I was seeing a ghost - and there was a young fellow she favour’d, entire suitable, well-bred fellow. But his friend was Lord U- and her parents were quite mad after a title, so that was the one she marry’d.
Then she looks at me very shrewd and says, sure Society holds its breath to see which way the cat will jump before deciding whether to acknowledge this migration from N- House or be shockt by it.
And, says I, dear Lady T-, your opinion on the matter would be consider’d exceeding telling.
Why, she says, 'tis a shocking example to wives and children. And yet, did they stay might seem that they approv’d and were even of like habits…
She shakes her head and says, But there was that matter of an elopement, 'tis a thing one would not desire to encourage.
One must take into account, says I, that Lord O- had spent very little time in Society before his accession, was about a deal of wild and savage places, where I daresay marriage is very largely conduct’d upon Young Lochinvar lines as a general matter –
On the other hand, makes a difference that – so 'tis give out – that her brother was there and gave her away, hardly some hugger-mugger proceeding. And 'twas not some matter of abducting an heiress, for her portion, I confide, is modest. Sure all give ‘em out to be entire besott’d upon one another. She picks up her lace-pillow and there is a little clacking of bobbins for some several minutes. I daresay it helps her think.
At length she remarks that she hears that this new Lady O- is quite the greatest friend of Her Grace of M-, that is such a civil well-conduct’d young woman of excellent ton.
Oh, entirely, I say.
- and Lord T- has spoke several times of Lord U- as an admirable young fellow.
I respond that he has a most prepossessing fondness for his mother and care for his brothers and sisters.
Why, she says, dear Lady B-, you quite persuade me that I should go call upon Lady N- and Lady O- at O- House. Sure 'tis not as tho’ Lady N- has run off with some other fellow, like the wife of that bigamous lunatick that succeed’d your husband. Sure one is very sorry for her, ty’d to such a one – did he not endeavour murder her in church when all was reveal’d? – but 'tis quite over the boundaries of correct conduct.
(Sure I should like to spring to dear Belinda’s defence, but I confide that 'twould not be the diplomatick thing to do at this moment.)
I therefore say that I have some impression that Sir C- F- retains a chivalrous devotion to the Countess, but sure, he is among his apple-trees in Herefordshire.
Excellent fellow! says Lady T-, Lord T- hopes he may come to our house-party this summer, for he is known quite the virtuoso on agrickultural matters.
I say the proper things, but do not mention our previous acquaintance.
And of course, my dear, we shall see you there.
'Twill be delightfull, says I, somewhat mendacious.
She then looks thoughtfull and says, perchance Lady Emily M- is a little on the young side for K-, but of excellent lineage, fine looks, and her livelyness might stir him up, 'twould be most beneficial. Lord T- was already in mind to invite Lord U-.
(I think of Lady Emily, that quite longs to don breeches and play Viola or Rosalind, and is, her brothers give out, an entire virtuosa at billiards, and do not suppose she should sort well with that mopish muff Lord K-. But 'twill do her good going about a little in Society.)
Comes in Lord T- and makes very civil. Lady T- remarks that we have been gossiping upon Lord N- and she is quite determin’d to go visit the poor Countess at O- House.
Quite shocking thing, the Earl’s conduct, says Lord T-, I daresay there are gardener’s boys have been transport’d for taking a few blossoms to make a posy for their sweethearts or carrying a cutting or so to their mother’s cottage garden. But of course in a nobleman 'tis deem’d a harmless eccentricity. What do we suppose he will do now?
He goes on to say that Major S- goes talk very wild, tho’ cannot seem to make up his mind whether he should call the fellow out or accuse him of theft and take it to the courts. And there are some several go get up blackballing at his clubs.
I shake my head and say sure 'tis a shocking matter, do any know why he took the snake?
'Tis entirely consider’d part of his pilfering freak, says Lord T-.
I take a civil leave of 'em and desire Ajax to drive me to M- House.
When I go to the door, Thomas, that tends it, says that Her Grace is quite entire at home to you, Your Ladyship, and is in the garden.
I ask him how he does and how Jennie comes on – why, he says, is entire advanc’d to the post of assistant to Phillips.
I am pleas’d to hear it, says I, and here is somewhat to save towards your wedding.
The gardens at M- House are by no means as fine as those at R- House, but at this time of year they show exceeding well. I see that Nan has come visit Viola, and they sit upon the lawn as little Lady Cathy essays to stand and even contrives to stagger a step or two before falling to the ground again.
They jump up to greet me, and Viola rings for a footman to fetch us tea.
Well, how now, my dears, says I, sitting upon a chair, do you go plot strategy?
Indeed 'tis so, says Viola, for I apprehend that 'tis most material to the interests of Lady O-'s family that they should be entire receiv’d in Society.
Entirely so, says I, and I have already been about prevailing upon Lady T- to come call upon Lady N- at O- House – and you too of course, my dear, I add, turning to Nan.
Nan looks somewhat scar’d, but Viola laughs and says, perchance I have never made the tour of the fine paintings in the gallery at Q-?
I have not yet had that pleasure, says I, but I hope to undertake it this summer.
Only, says Viola, there is a a painting there, very old and quaint, of some female saint that contriv’d to tame a dragon and is depict’d leading it about upon a leash rather like unto Lady D- and her pug.
O poo, says I, Lady T- is no dragon.
Comes tea, follow’d by Biffle, that says, here is a charming sight, sure he wishes that he had Sir Z- R- or mayhap Mr de C- here so that they might paint it as a conversation piece. He then goes pick up little Cathy, that we perceive very fond of her Papa.
He sits down with her upon his knee and says that sure this is very agreeable company after what he has been at: he turns to Lady O- and says, have been closet’d with Lord N- these some several hours, but I think he has at last come round to seeing that 'twill entire serve him to go hunt flowers abroad – indeed there is some savant in Washington that has ardently solicit’d him to visit those shores –
(Sure I am like to laugh when I recall how Sandy remarkt that I consider’d the United States as a rubbish pile upon which I might cast those I lik’d not. And then take the more sober consideration that at least 'tis not Philadelphia, for I should greatly dislike the thought of any convokation ‘twixt the Earl and Mr E-, that both bear me such resentment.)
- and has been persuad’d that 'twill be entire convenable does he authorize Lord U- to undertake the necessary management of his estates during his absence, that will, no doubt, be adviz’d by his godfather that is known a prudent and well-inform’d fellow.
Nan quite claps her hands at this intelligence. O, prime! she cries. Has greatly irk’d U- to see so much that he might usefully put his hand to and not be able.
We all look about at one another with great gratification, and then Cathy decides that we do not pay due attention to her and sets up a little wail to remind us of her presence.
alan turing invented the COLOSSOS, machine for understanding ger., lat., fr., ect which won the war for BRITTAN cheers cheers cheers. even tho he was a grate pionear of computer sience, the goverment did not respekt him, becos he did not hav a beard.
all mr turing’s discovereys are v popular at st. custards, eg the HALTING PROBLEM, which shos that you canot tell whether or not hedmaster’s pi-jaw will go on for ever.
mr turing also invented the turing test. this demonstrates that a computer is intelegent if a human canot tell whether it is another human. hence super wizard wheez to see whether sigismund the mad maths master wil notice if i send the MOLESWORTH-O-TRON 9000 to maths klass while i stay in bed.
SIGISMUND: molesworth, why hav you not done your prep
MOLESWORTH-O-TRON: is it becos I hav not done my prep that you speke to me
SIGISMUND: what is the square on the hipotnus?
MOLESWORTH-O_TRON: some of the squares on the other sides
PEASON: sir sir i have a question sir
SIGISMUND: what is it peason
PEASON: ; drop table mathematiks; –
(with a grate CRASH the molesworth-o-tron fall to the floor)
SIGISMUND: well i never, molesworth is a computer
It went... good and bad. ( health stuff )
Also bad because the class was in a basement room with no heating and it's January and pilates is done shoe-less, and well, lo and behold I spent the entire weekend sick and I'm still sick at work today.
Circling back to the title of this post: I hence spent the weekend passed out in bed and rereading Captive Prince.
Gosh I still love those books A LOT. Like I've reread them multiple times but on this reread I'm still like "ugh I just want to be home reading, I have to read more" even though I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS so what's the rush, really.
I wasn't sure how I'd feel about these books after the dust of book 3 settled. I thought book 3 was structurally less good than the other two, and more specifically, I thought a particular choice the author made kind of ruined all the previous characterizations for me and made the books not add up.
I know before book 3 came out there was a heated debate in the fandom on ( captive prince spoilers )
the bells of hell - Hilary pursues her medical career during WWII - 13k posted, another 2k written, 75% done. This is my longest-standing WIP and I do very much intend to finish it! Just... not yet. I do know exactly what's going to happen.
marginal gains - In which Victor is doping, and Yuuri is about to start - 1.5k posted, another 3k written, 50% done. This one got derailed a bit by the number of people who considered it totally OOC, but I have a fair amount of writing sunk into it already, so I think I need to get it done once I recover my enthusiasm. There's also a bit of a struggle with tone, since I want to take it seriously, but there's also part of me that finds the whole concept of doping a little funny.
the rider - The cycling AU about Ralph and his Sublieutenant - 1.5k written, 75% done. I can polish this off really quickly once the mood strikes me, I just need to be willing to write the tragic bit. It's Brisk young sailor all over again, why do I get myself into these situations?
the triumph of the continental style - E.F. Benson finds himself at a skating competition in 2018 - 600 words written, 50% done. Just need a solid hour or so to press onwards!
three kings - Yuri goes to Victor and Yuuri in Hasetsu, ten years later - 2k written, 50% done? Need to remind myself here that I'm writing something happy (ish) for a change and that the proposed scope is not epic. This will probably be my next posted work, unless Benson intervenes.
the Master and Margarita (working title) - The one about Yakov and Lilia - 600 words of notes and scattered dialogue. Not likely to be the next thing I work on, but it's on the horizon somewhere.
shivers down my spine (working title) - The epic tale of the epic Nikiforov/Plisetsky rivalry in the run-up to the 2018 Games - 700 words of mainly notes and timeline. I will need to psych myself up for this, as well as decide exactly how irredeemably messed up I want to allow the relationship between Victor and Yuri to become, but honestly the story (ripped in full from the headlines) is too good not to use. If I could but write it.
My dojo’s New Year’s party was today*, conflicting with the Women’s March up in San Francisco. So instead I went to the Answer Coalition protest last night.
(*Japanese New Year’s parties happen in the new year. I’m told that as long as you get it done before the end of, oh, February, it still counts.)
I don’t think I’ve ever really been to that kind of event before. I can’t recall anything like it, anyway. It was grey and raining and rather cold when I arrived at UN Plaza, but I worked my way slowly to the front-ish part of the crowd and listened to people give speeches, including one delivered in both Spanish and English. Every so often the sky decided to drool on us for a bit; people were good about opening their umbrellas safely above head height, and indiscriminately sheltering not only themselves but whoever happened to be standing nearby. I couldn’t help but see a metaphor in that. Out of an abundance of caution I’d taken a Sharpie to my arm and written out an emergency contact, drug allergies, and the fact that my ophthalmologist had dilated my eyes a couple of hours earlier (so any hypothetical EMT would know why my pupils were blown), but it wasn’t at all necessary; everything was good, all the energy channeled in the right directions.
I hadn’t looked very closely at the details of the protest. Answer Coalition, okay, 5-7 p.m. in UN Plaza. I missed the part where it said there was going to be a march. When they said we were heading to the Castro (nearly two miles away), I thought about returning to BART and calling it an evening. But hey, it won’t hurt to go at least a little way, right?
Next thing I know, I’m in the Castro.
I thought about splitting after a few blocks. But there was a cadre of six or seven people who had brought side-slung marching drums, a guy with a snare, somebody with a cowbell, and one brave guy with a trumpet (I’ve played brass in cold weather before; it sucks). Everything is better with drums. There’s a reason armies use them, and it isn’t just to keep everybody in step. I went along with those people for a while, enjoying the beat, but eventually outpaced them and caught up with another group that was doing lots of chants: anti-Trump things, “Black Lives Matter/Native Lives Matter/Trans Lives Matter,” socialist worker chants, chants in Spanish. Somewhere in there I noticed that our progress down the westbound lanes of Market was being facilitated by cops, and I started thanking them as I passed. One of them grinned and said that if he hadn’t been on duty, he probably would have been there anyway. Another said it was easy with a group like ours. Cars headed eastbound on Market, or waiting at the cross-streets, honked in support as we went by. And then I could see the giant rainbow flag up ahead, and, well, who could quit before reaching it?
Only we weren’t done there. We hung a left down Castro Street itself, then hooked back east on 18th. Where was our stopping point? I began to form a suspicion that we didn’t really have one. I asked one of the cops, and he just shrugged: he didn’t know, either. I checked my phone and discovered that if I got ahead of the march, I could hit Borderlands before it closed; we were headed that direction, but not fast enough. So I peeled off at last, stopped by to sign some things and stuff a pastry in my face, got back on the nearest bit of BART, and went home utterly exhausted.
But very, very glad I went. I wish I could have joined the Women’s March today, but that one was good, too. And today I get to see the pictures, which made me just a touch verklempt. I knew there were marches in a lot of major U.S. cities, but I had no idea there would be marches in so many not major cities, too. And in other countries. And on other continents. (I wondered out loud if that’s every woman in Antarctica right now, and possibly every human in Antarctica. Turns out that the staff of McMurdo Station is much larger than that, plus there are other stations down there, so no — but still. Every. Single. Continent.)
Donald Trump has insulted and threatened well over half the population of this country. (Women alone make up 50.8%. Add in all the black, Latino, Muslim, Jewish, queer, or otherwise targeted men, not to mention all the men who don’t see those groups as the enemy, and who knows what the number really is.) We have mobilized, in our hundreds of thousands, to show what we think of that.
It’s a beginning. Now let’s keep going.
Oakland, the morning one -- blessed by the lack of rain this very wet January -- was smart and strong and utterly inspiring; I've never seen so many great slogans, from poignant to silly, from sweet to crass...and all too true, of course.
It took me until nightfall, Sally and I returning to the City across the Bay Bridge for a little time at the candlelight vigil on the Embarcadero to recall( US politics and society )
To end on a lighter and happier note?
[CLICK FOR FULL-SIZE]
Best revolutionary fandom shot of the day, no doubt -- two fandoms of feminism and resistance for the price of one!
A close second, as we're talking two DC heroines worn by this littl'un:
And this one captures the atmosphere well -- energized, community-minded, and so warm
despite the chilly day:
( Three more snapshots from Oakland )
- Maggie Roche, of The Roches ("We don't give out our ages and we don't give out our phone numbers.")
- William A. Hilliard, journalist (The Oregonian)
- Roberta Peters, soprano (slideshow)
- Wayne Barrett, investigative reporter (Village Voice)
- Eugene Cernan, last man to walk on the moon
- Dick Gautier, actor
- Antony Armstrong-Jones, aka Lord Snowdon, photographer and royal spouse
- Nat Hentoff, writer (Village Voice, et al.)
- Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, as of May. An appreciation by David Ettlin.
- Clare Hollingworth, broke the story of the German invasion of Poland in September, 1939
- Zhou Youguang, helped to develop Pinyin (Romanized Chinese character conversion)
- William Peter Blatty, writer (The Exorcist, et seq.)
- Bishop Eddie Long, who was mentioned here when his scandal was current. The Root has an article.