All the thinky thoughts
So. I have an Issue that has been simmering on low heat for a while now with occasional flare-ups of righteous ire. To reduce it to essentials, I offered to do a thing, and once my offer was accepted, the terms were unilaterally changed in a really clumsy way, and I have since been seething over having to abide by the new terms and the way they were imposed. The change hasn't affected my ability to do the thing, but I'm starting to get sick of seething. I know my annoyance is justified. I also know that I have excellent reasons for soldiering on regardless. The two just aren't cancelling one another out the way I expected them to, and I'd like to get over it.
I went so far as to write up a lengthly Butthurt Check to a neutral third party, but I haven't sent it (and won't), because in the course of putting it together I realized that there's no real point other than to whine, and I've done that already and it hasn't helped. I did, however, discuss a constructive solution with Mr. 42 last night, and I feel better having done that. So here's hoping that's sufficient to put the butthurt behind me where it belongs. (<---see what I did there.)
In other news, DUDE. Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature. I have many complicated thoughts and feelings about this. As a proponent of rhyming verse, I'm thrilled that the Nobel committee chose to honor that form and reassert its cultural and literary merit. It's kind of a poke in the eye to Academic Poetry, which largely considers itself to be post-rhyme and post-verse. I am also delighted to see song lyrics acknowledged as poetry, which honestly shouldn't be news, but apparently is to some people. During my recent flirtations with writing song lyrics, my dad sent me a rather wonderful collection of essays called The Poetics of American Song Lyrics, that's all about tying the history and techniques of poetry to popular American music, including but not limited to rock, hip hop, country, and the blues, so I'm deeply sympathetic to this argument and (like the editor and authors of the essay collection, I suspect) feeling more than a bit vindicated, especially Gordon Ball, who nominated Dylan for the Nobel back in 1996 and whose revised version of this essay about why Dylan should get the prize appears in the book.
That said, I'm kind of uncomfortable with Bob Dylan being honored because he's one of those white male artists who gets touted as a unique voice instead of lumped into a musical tradition with women and people of color. I like an awful lot of his music (though to be honest, I haven't listened to his newer stuff), particularly the sarcastic political criticism and intimately observed slices of life, but he drew (and draws) on numerous folk traditions, so between the book above and a rather on-point article from Slate about how rock and roll went from being black music to white music, musical traditions, race, and artist identity have been very much on my mind.
I'm also happy to report that after a rather gleeful and informative sidetrack into design (which shall continue at a more opportune time), I'm back into writing my sshg_giftfest story with a vengeance. The last SSHG story I wrote was based on a prompt that required SS and HG on opposite sides of a prickly social issue, so there really wasn't much opportunity to develop romance (though I tried to end it in a hopeful place). I don't know if there will be rude bits in this story or not (outright smut might be a weird tonal match, but we'll see...), but I'm having a great deal of fun writing their romance this time 'round. It's different from how I usually write it, so I'm enjoying that a lot.
And in doggy health news, Giovanni is still coughing, but less frequently (boo/yay), and Mr. 42 had an inspired brainwave to add rice to Gio's prescription dog food, which has led to greatly increased consumption of said dog food. Alas, the ricey temptation proved to be too much for Hildegard, whom I strongly suspect of eating most of Gio's breakfast after I left for work yesterday, as the bowl was 3/4 full when I left and empty, having been licked clean with surgical precision (not Gio's usual MO), when Mr. 42 came downstairs. So yeah, no more free-feeding when there is a ravenous dachshund around. This Saturday marks the last day in Gio's scheudle of antibiotics, so we'll see how he's doing then and perhaps schedule a follow-up exam if the coughing persists.
Tired today. And I have tons to do at work that I don't really want to do. But I really need to make headway on this, otherwise it's gonna start interfering with my sleep again, and I already have the election for that. :P Onward and upward!
Smooches to All.
Mun42
I went so far as to write up a lengthly Butthurt Check to a neutral third party, but I haven't sent it (and won't), because in the course of putting it together I realized that there's no real point other than to whine, and I've done that already and it hasn't helped. I did, however, discuss a constructive solution with Mr. 42 last night, and I feel better having done that. So here's hoping that's sufficient to put the butthurt behind me where it belongs. (<---see what I did there.)
In other news, DUDE. Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literature. I have many complicated thoughts and feelings about this. As a proponent of rhyming verse, I'm thrilled that the Nobel committee chose to honor that form and reassert its cultural and literary merit. It's kind of a poke in the eye to Academic Poetry, which largely considers itself to be post-rhyme and post-verse. I am also delighted to see song lyrics acknowledged as poetry, which honestly shouldn't be news, but apparently is to some people. During my recent flirtations with writing song lyrics, my dad sent me a rather wonderful collection of essays called The Poetics of American Song Lyrics, that's all about tying the history and techniques of poetry to popular American music, including but not limited to rock, hip hop, country, and the blues, so I'm deeply sympathetic to this argument and (like the editor and authors of the essay collection, I suspect) feeling more than a bit vindicated, especially Gordon Ball, who nominated Dylan for the Nobel back in 1996 and whose revised version of this essay about why Dylan should get the prize appears in the book.
That said, I'm kind of uncomfortable with Bob Dylan being honored because he's one of those white male artists who gets touted as a unique voice instead of lumped into a musical tradition with women and people of color. I like an awful lot of his music (though to be honest, I haven't listened to his newer stuff), particularly the sarcastic political criticism and intimately observed slices of life, but he drew (and draws) on numerous folk traditions, so between the book above and a rather on-point article from Slate about how rock and roll went from being black music to white music, musical traditions, race, and artist identity have been very much on my mind.
I'm also happy to report that after a rather gleeful and informative sidetrack into design (which shall continue at a more opportune time), I'm back into writing my sshg_giftfest story with a vengeance. The last SSHG story I wrote was based on a prompt that required SS and HG on opposite sides of a prickly social issue, so there really wasn't much opportunity to develop romance (though I tried to end it in a hopeful place). I don't know if there will be rude bits in this story or not (outright smut might be a weird tonal match, but we'll see...), but I'm having a great deal of fun writing their romance this time 'round. It's different from how I usually write it, so I'm enjoying that a lot.
And in doggy health news, Giovanni is still coughing, but less frequently (boo/yay), and Mr. 42 had an inspired brainwave to add rice to Gio's prescription dog food, which has led to greatly increased consumption of said dog food. Alas, the ricey temptation proved to be too much for Hildegard, whom I strongly suspect of eating most of Gio's breakfast after I left for work yesterday, as the bowl was 3/4 full when I left and empty, having been licked clean with surgical precision (not Gio's usual MO), when Mr. 42 came downstairs. So yeah, no more free-feeding when there is a ravenous dachshund around. This Saturday marks the last day in Gio's scheudle of antibiotics, so we'll see how he's doing then and perhaps schedule a follow-up exam if the coughing persists.
Tired today. And I have tons to do at work that I don't really want to do. But I really need to make headway on this, otherwise it's gonna start interfering with my sleep again, and I already have the election for that. :P Onward and upward!
Smooches to All.
Mun42