Jeff Duntemann's ContraPositive Diary

Despite having now worked at a library for nearly four years, apparently my subconscious still thinks of me as a bookseller. (I worked at Barnes and Noble for just over four years.) Last night, I had a Barnes and Noble dream, one where I was working at a store that I've never worked at with a coworker of mine, not from a B&N, but from my college Tutoring and Writing Center. Instead of my normal B&N clothing, I was wearing my black gi top and bottom (which, because in my dream I had a shift in the cafe where we always had to wear black tops and bottoms, seemed perfectly reasonable).

Yeah. It's been almost five years, and still that's the job I have dreams about.

Quick thoughts:

My husband just got his second degree black-belt yesterday! In honor of that, any time I mention him on the blog from now on, I'll be calling him by the nickname Two Stripe. Mostly because it amuses me, but also because either listgirl or mechristy asked me to blog about the family more, and I haven't been doing it, because I didn't have an appropriate blog name for him. (Baby number one, who is thus far doing just fine flopping around inside the womb, is nicknamed Bug while she's in utero, will stay Bug until she's old enough to decide if she wants her real name to show up on the Internet.)

Don't forget to visit kickstart_tu! We've got some great items on the auction, including books, crafts, digital art, online advertising, and critiques from tiffanytrent and kimpauley. Stop on by and spread the word!

I didn't have to go to work today! Yay! (Downside - I work 7am-7pm on Black Friday. I'm not certain this isn't a win.)

My weekend started on Wednesday - iraunink & I picked up elisem, and we went to Bakers Square for dinner.

Thursday iraunink took me to Burger King for lunch, then we went to JoAnne Fabrics where she bought some yarn, and then Don & Margo (WANOLJ) came over our weekly dinner get-together. They brought pork-chops & mashed potatoes & a sweet bread for dessert, we provided salad, veggies, and whipped cream (to enhance the dessert).

Friday was a quiet day at home - we never made it out of the house.

Saturday was a Minn-StF Meeting at fmsv & cowfan's. Much fun was had with their Player Piano. I was very happy I didn't have to go home to go to work - we didn't leave until 1:30 Sunday morning, at which point the group around the Player Piano was still going strong. IIRC, I played 1-12 rolls myself.

Today was get woken up by the dogs about 11am, two loads of laundry, get caught up on computer stuff, not accomplish as much as I wanted. Dinner was Bellatoria Supreme Pizza and Turning Leaf Riesling wine. I'm shortly headed for bed.

So I went down to the basement to try to transfer some old DAT tapes to the computer. Neither one of the DAT decks appears to be working correctly. *sigh*

I've found a part number for one of them, at least.

I've written from time to time of Fermi's Paradox. One of the concepts used to "answer" the paradox is the Great Filter, which is the idea that there is some event that allows few if any civilizations to arise. I'd said before that I don't think peak oil is such an event. But now I'd like to add an event to the possible list of Great Filters. Call it "the Death of Science."

Modern science is so complicated that it is difficult for any one individual to evaluate all of it scientifically. One person just can't know everything. This leads to people evaluating scientific principles based not on the underlying science but on who they trust, or find most believable.

The problem is that sometimes the anti-science folks are seen as more believable. Thus, the anti-vaccination crowd listens to Jenny McCarthy, an intelligent person to be sure but no scientist. Or the anti-global-warming crowd reads a bunch of stolen emails and crows that they prove climatologists are betraying science.

So, in my theory, these anti-science types gain a critical mass in society and wreck their civilization. Perhaps more perniciously, once the civilization is wrecked, one could see that the anti-science types use the collapse of civilization to argue that they were right, thus preventing redevelopment of technology.

It's a variation on the idea that "civilization ends not with a bang but with a whimper."

And I do hope I'm wrong, at least about one particular civilization.

or maybe it was early this morning - it was while listening to the Player Piano at fmsv & cowfan's Minn-StF Meeting last night:

( Judi Dench & Max Raabe within )
Can anyone pass this along to Hershey & Sahara?

Happy Birthday thnidu

Woke up at 5.40 to the sound of the Purser or Stewardess or Ship's Cook And Porcupine or whoever the hell she was, who explained that we would be all expected to get into our cars shortly. "Ha!" I said to myself and got the rest of the family up, whereupon we made excellent time getting down to the car and were still late enough (at 6.35 when unloading was due to start at 6.30) that we were holding up the traffic behind us. Hey ho; we all got out double-quick and all was well.

Then it was up to our good friend Sean to get us within range of the place we were visiting that morning, whereupon we exercised our already well-honed cafe-detecting skills and found an excellent cafe whose name escapes me (go read thelancrewitch's blog and she'll probably mention it). Our newly-vegetarian EDoD nearly wept with joy at the mention of scrambled tofu on toast! We ate spectacularly, as is usual for our holiday and especially for Melbourne, then went and visited the Beloved's inordinately spunky friends K and R and their cute boys.

R gave me a lift to a shuttle bus stop, whereupon I got to the airport and into the air without incident. A slightly bumpy flight home, a detour to pick up comics and a taxi ride for the last leg because Canberra buses are shite on weekends, and I was home.

And now that I've downloaded and watched the latest Doctor Who and Heroes eps and had turkish pizza for dinner (with enough there for the next three dinners at least) I find myself quite... lonely. After two weeks of constant interaction with my evil babies, the thought of having an entire house to myself with only a senile wailing cat for company strikes me as thoroughly undesirable. I think I shall have an early night.

samwinolj, Bonnie, Jerry, daisy_knotwise, and I headed down to the Loop today for the previews of The Addams Family, the new musical starring Nathan Lane and Bebe Neuwirth. Gretchen's capsule review was "Well, it won't be a classic of the American theater, but it was a fun way to spend an afternoon." And that's pretty much true.

There's a structural problem in the second act that's caused by the leads not being the romantic leads in the show, with the result that a number that should be very near the end of the act ends up being pushed substantially too early. (In my opinion, of course.) This leads to a relatively weak number just before the end of the musical, but I'm really not sure how to fix it. On the other hand, that's what tryouts are for.

There are a number of current references in the show, most of which were pretty funny, one of which falls in the politically polarizing category and resulted in a brief halt due to applause. I'm not convinced that applause is what you want there, because it disrupts the timing pretty severely. We'll see if it survives, I suppose.

Although the show is not supposed to be drawn from the old TV show or the movies, but from the original cartoons, they did have the good sense to license the TV theme. We even had a cameo by Cousin It.

And Uncle Fester, playing the role of Dr. Exposition, does his best to steal the show. And he gives it a very good try.

Gretchen, meanwhile, observes that it appears that all new Broadway musicals are required to have someone fly. She blames Cats.

My pithy observation was that Morticia may well be the role that Bebe Neuwirth was born to play: "Sybil on the Half-Shell".

Of course, after such a show, we find ourselves trying to figure out how to cast it with members of SpaceTime Theater. We concluded that daddy_guido and I would engage in a death match to determine which one of us was Gomez and which one was Uncle Fester. After that, we discovered we would run into an acute shortage of women. And I suggested importing catalana to play Morticia, as she can both sing and dance.

Though it's difficult trying to cast a musical when half of the cast doesn't want to sing. :)

Happy Birthday callyperry

Here's what I've learned as a consequence of spending two weeks in close proximity to my family while travelling to, around and from the South IslandTasmania:

Sanity is much improved if we ensure that our monkeys get time each day to play on a playground or run around on a beach. This shall be remembered forever, because the difference is like chalk and cheese, or perhaps like chalk and a different kind of chalk made of a combination of weapons-grade Plutonium, sulphuric acid and a shopping bag full of Tasmanian devils on crack.

As mentioned yesterday, taking one day in seven, or even one in five, to just veg out and flump in a heap also seems to help a lot, for all of us. We usually, in the course of our normal lives, get a chance to take "me" time every now and then, but when we're all together in a strange place it's less likely unless we make it happen on purpose.

For the above reason, I nominate lunch with baronsnorri as one of the highlights of this holiday. The majority of sane, honest and non-bugfuck-crazy SCAdians make up for the small number who have been ruining things for friends of mine recently.

The highlight for the munchkins was very likely either the zoo or the all-access playground we went to in Hobart. Even with all the exotic stuff to do, sometimes just doing kid-focused stuff is what you need.

Any problem that can be solved by throwing money at it isn't really a problem, provided you have money. That's why we weren't unduly stressed about the radiator dying: there was a damn good mechanic who made the problem go away in return for a collection of Pineapple-Coloured Drinks Tokens, and so it wasn't really a problem.

When you go on holidays, budget much more than you could ever need for cafe lunches and take-away and all that silliness. Then eat cafe lunches and take-away and don't fret. You can get away with not doing this, but if you have sufficient funds to cover it, frugality on holiday is a silly thing. You don't need the stress of dinner planning and cooking on top of everything the Chaos Gods will throw at you as a matter of course.

Rumours have surfaced that it is possible to live without the internet. These rumours are spread by fools and liars and must be stamped out. Wireless broadband is your friend here, though net cafes, MacDonalds' free wi-fi and the interwebs of whoever you're staying with are your best bets here. (I'm writing this on one of the internet kiosk computers on the Spirit of Taswegia LXIX, which is quite tolerable once you get used to the non-functional Tab key. The Beloved is upstairs using her laptop and mobile broadband; I'd be doing the same but the BatPup is watching Monsters Inc on my laptop.)

Have a supply of Pixar movies on your laptop. Child-dosage sedatives were only invented for parents who don't follow this advice.

... And that will do, because I'm running out of coins. But it's enough to be going on with.

( Old Unix T-Shirt at the art auction )

Kelly Meding had me at "A Coupla Throw Pillows and a TV News Reporter." That's how she started her introduction thread at the League of Reluctant Adults, and between her obscure references to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (did you catch it?) and her obvious love of things Whedon (especially my favorite, Firefly), it was instant fandom for me. Nevermind that her debut novel (Three Days to Dead hasn't debuted yet -- you can pre-order it at all your friendly local bookstores! Only four days 'til publication!), Kelly impressed me with her awesome over at the League and then at her blog with some of the coolest trivia contests ever to be seen on the Web. I knew that when the time came, I wanted to have her guest blog to promote the novel. And luckily, she felt the same way!

So without much further ado, I present Kelly in her own words, writing about one of her favorite fairy tales, complete with an excerpt from Three Days to Dead. If you (like me) just can't wait the next four days to get your hands on her book, you can read some free fiction set in her new world at Suduvu, where a five part serial will be posted over the next ten days. And now... Kelly!

--

Books and stories have been a part of my life for as far back as I can remember. As a child, many of my favorites were fairy tales, legends, and nursery rhymes. I had a book of Mother Goose tales and a cassette tape that read the tales aloud as I followed in the book. One of my favorite things to watch on television was Shelly Duvall's Faerie Tale Theater.

Urban fantasy has a wonderful tradition of taking those old stories and putting new spins on them. Sometimes they remain recognizable, and sometimes they don't. But what is fiction, if not a chance to take an idea and explore it?

In developing the world of Three Days to Dead, I had a wealth of information and choices at my fingertips. Some folks don't like the "kitchen sink" idea. They prefer a narrow slice of the paranormal. I wanted to toss in as much as I could without bogging down the book. Beyond the staples of vampires and shifters, I wanted Fey and trolls and gremlins and gargoyles, but I had to make them my own.

One of my favorite folk stories is that of the Three Billy Goats Gruff. I can't possibly say why that story sticks with me, but it does. Simply, it's the story of three goats who wish to cross a bridge and feast on the grass on the other side of a stream. Under this bridge lives a terrible troll who wants to eat the goats. The first, smallest goat crosses safely by telling the troll his brother his larger and a better meal. The second, middle goat does the same. When the final, biggest goat crosses, he has big horns and gores the troll to death, allowing the three goats to feast and grow fat.

This evil thing that lives under bridges and demands a toll for crossing is what my mind has always first associated with a troll. I wanted to use trolls in TDTD, but I wasn't sure how to do it. So I Googled.

Google is a wonderful tool. I found hundreds of images, but one in particular really stuck with me—the Seattle Bridge Troll. If you've not seen it, it's an amazing work of art. As soon as I saw it, I knew there was a character in it. I had found my troll. He would still live under a bridge, but he doesn't charge a toll for crossing. In fact, his actual role in this world came out a bit later in the book and surprised even me.
And so was born Smedge, the Bridge Troll.


Excerpt from "Chapter Five," Three Days to Dead, by Kelly Meding

Copyright 2009

"Are you sure he's going to recognize you before he decides to pound on us with a big, gravely fist?" [Wyatt asked.]

"Bridge trolls are blind, remember?" I stomped my foot again. "They don't rely on five senses like humans. He'll know me."

Sure enough, the solid concrete began to vibrate. Slowly at first, like the gentlest shiver. Then it built to a roar, and what was once solid began to run like quicksand. It drew inward, gathering like a miniature tornado beneath the bridge. I raised my hand against the wind, as every bit of dirt was drawn toward its center.

An arm reached out from its whirling vortex, a hand uncurling and dividing into four fingers. Those fingers splayed against the ground by our feet. Wyatt stepped back, but I stood my ground. A second arm joined the first, and then a head pulled out, forming from the dirt and sand and stone, as large as my entire body, with pronounced eyes that couldn't see and a mouth that couldn't taste. A neck and shoulders grew last, until Smedge the bridge troll appeared to have pulled himself out of a giant hole in the ground, only to lounge beneath the bridge, perfectly at ease.

Sounds rumbled deep within his throat, as he remembered how to communicate with other, more verbal species. Bridge trolls were part of the earth itself and communicated through tremors and vibrations of the crust and core, rather than of wind through the larynx. Some of the largest earthquakes in recorded history were because of troll wars--something no one taught kids in geology class.

"Him," Smedge ground out. His voice came across like sandpaper against metal--harsh and unpleasant. "Not…welcome."

"I'll make sure he behaves," I said. "Smedge, do you remember me? It's Stony."

Sandy eyes made a show of looking at me, but I knew better. Air circled me like a cyclone, caressing my skin with fine particles of sand. He was smelling me in his own way, making sure I was telling the truth. I only hoped his unusual senses could "see" past my new appearance and identify his friend.

"Yes, Stony," Smedge said.

I went through a bunch of old credit card statements today, because ISFiC wanted to know how much they owed me for the storage locker that has been being billed to my card. Suffice it to say that I can now pay my property taxes.

And my next installment of property taxes. The good news about having money sitting out there like this is that you're not tempted to spend it. I think of it as a payroll savings plan. And if I'd had the money invested over that period, it would be worth a lot less. :)

The hole that it leaves in ISFiC's books when it comes out, however, will be a sight to behold. Apparently, we managed to avoid paying me back for three years.

The Symmetry blog reports that a few hours ago, CERN circulated protons around the Large Hadron Collider.

This cheerful news marks a milestone in a long recovery from the accident of 19 September 2008. Congratulations to all those involved. May the journey of commissioning be smooth and speedy.

Image here, via Bruce Schneier

Recently at a flea market, I picked up The Music Man: A Novel by Meredith Willson, Pyramid Books paperback #R-736. It was published in 1962 as a tie-in to the movie version of the hit Fifties musical. Here's a glimpse of the cover.

I love The Music Man, and so do daisy_knotwise and brotherguy and scarfman and minnehaha K. It is my favorite musical. I've read Willson's account of its creation, But He Doesn't Know the Territory. So for a buck, I knew this belonged in my library.

The book has some nice extras, such as numerous stills from the film, and a listing of all the song lyrics in the back. Nevertheless, it is a weird experience to read a novelized version of a story where you know the characters are supposed to break out into song. Paperbacks can't do that. I suppose there might be some hope for the Kindle. Or one could always turn to the lyrical appendix at the appropriate point in the story, and sing.

I would expect a book like this to be ghostwritten. However, a few things make me suspect it might really have come from Willson's typewriter.

First, it is dedicated "to Rini and Rosalie," an unnecessary touch for a ghostwriter and an insincere thing for the celebrity author to do if he didn't really write it.

Second, in But He Doesn't Know the Territory, Willson makes a big deal about speech-as-music, arranging words in rhythmic chants that seem like music. The most celebrated example is probably the number "Trouble," which is mostly talk and hardly any singing. In a moment, I'll give you an example from the novel.

Anyway, for all those who love this story, and wonder about the fate of the characters, the final page of the novel offers a veiled glimpse of the future. I thought you might like me to share. Naturally, there are spoilers.
( Spoilers for The Music Man )

The first sentence of the passage sounds like authentic Willson to my ear.

Gas mask bra secures Ig Nobel prize

Picture here.

I need to look at The Register ("Biting the hand that feeds IT") more often.

I think it should be a point of unshakeable policy in this family that every holiday should include a day of doing absolutely nothing about once a week. Like that "Sabbath" thing that one of those obscure bronze-age religious sects came up with. We spent today doing no touristy stuff at all, and we're all feeling much saner as a consequence. The Beloved went off and op-shopped in the morning, which is her idea of perfect me-time, then I went and chatted with baronsnorri over ricotta pancakes (me) and curry (him) at lunch, and then we did some light tidying and packing and generally just veg'd. Tonight we pigged out on excellent Indian food from Zaika on Sandy Bay Road, and enjoyed the cool change. It's been a lovely day.

Meanwhile, I'm getting ready for the wrench. Tomorrow we drive back to Devonport and catch the ferry. On Sunday, I fly back home from Melbourne. Then I have a week of work while the Beloved swans about meeting people and trying not to strangle our babies. Consolations: I can download the latest Doctor Who and also recent Heroes episodes, and catch up on my comics, and also have the rare experience of tidying the house and not needing to tidy it again five minutes later. But I'll have no cuddles from my babies or my Beloved, so it's a net loss really. But I'm glad thelancrewitch has the confidence to go off like this; it's good for her and our monkeys. And it won't be long, really...

Tonight's Reason #385 For Why Katie Cannot Go To Bed Now:

"My feet are too big."

I pointed out that Daddy's feet are even bigger and he was planning to go to bed shortly.

Interestingly, it seems to be quiet now. Maybe too quiet...

I don't know how I do this. When I start out with a new calendar, it's blank and clean and pretty! (My 2009 calendar is a lovely print calendar by Lindsay Archer (the 2010 version is available here if you're interested.) And yet, somehow, those dates get filled with black ink to mark my day job hours, blue for appointments, purple for classes, and green for social engagements. (I switch colors on pretty much everything except the red deadlines and the black day job hours -- I'm not as organized as I'd like to think.)

Usually, I'm a few steps ahead on the autobio project -- though, granted, the first half of the year deadline is always much easier than the one late in the year (because I get the contract for both in the late summer/early fall, which means the first deadline is a crunch and the second deadline is languid and serene). This time around, I had to hand off more than usual to fellow copyeditor and Substrater Michelle while I organized the administrative details. (It's a good thing she's a copyeditor I really enjoy working with! I love working on the essays myself, so it's hard to hand over the work to someone else. It has to be someone I trust -- and Michelle certainly fits that bill.) I've got a great batch of writers this time around, and I'm very much excited to see them all in print.

But in the meantime, there's a 4e adventure that needs to be finished over the weekend, not to mention the rest of my first chapter installment in my joint Baeg Tobar project with lyster. (Have I mentioned Blood and Tumult by name yet? No? It's in progress! I'm 1500 words in on my first segment -- unfortunately not the full 3000 that would let me pass it back to Max. *sigh*) I have School Library Journal reviews that need to be written, not to mention the overdue reviews for Flames Rising.com and the overdue article edit for Journey to the Sea. (Alas, the free work always ends up falling behind those paid assignments.)

I was raised to keep myself busy as a kid, and I think I've taken that lesson to heart. My mother was the kind of teacher who always had several projects going outside of the classroom -- the biggest one was building a life-sized rainforest in an empty mall store. So I'm sure I get some of this impulse to take on so many projects from her.

One of these days, though, I think I'd like a vacation. It's a good thing I've forbidden myself from taking any work that's due in March! (I'll be busy with another little thing around then, but she's sure to be a handful.)