In case the word hadn’t filtered around to you yet, there ain’t no Bride of Pride party this fall. Our venue goofed on the space reservation, and we weren’t able to made a deal that worked for us.

Watch for us at Easter!

Caveat: Forthcoming meandering.

A friend lately was telling me how calm I appear. Pretty true, I guess. For the most part I’m a low-stress kinda gal. But it got me thinking about stuff that makes me tense, and I came up with a silly one, which I’ll share with you here.

So, I think audio books are a great idea, and I would love to be able to listen to ‘em. Imagine inhaling your favourite novel through your ears while doing other things with your hands and your eyes! Like… laundry folding. Like chainmail-making. Wow. Think of the possibilities.

But there’s things other than my borderline case of APD getting in my way. I have an impatience problem.

See, I read at somewhere around 700 words a minute. Now, before you say, like (seriously) nearly everyone does, “Oh, yes, but I like to really enjoy what I’m reading.”, I’ll add that this is my average novel-reading speed, computed by the number of words in a novel divided by how long I spent reading it, while wallowing in the tub, dangling in a hammock, or kicking back on my couch. I didn’t hurry along in my reading, skim solely for salient facts on the page, or stop an imaginary timer when I got up to pee or make more tea or kiss my lover or answer the phone or pet my cats, either. It’s just my average, what-a-good-book-this-is-I’m-really-enjoying-it reading speed.

According to Wikipedia, audiobooks sorta average out at 150 words per minute.

Although I love going to author’s readings and like having loved ones read stories to me, a recorded audiobook makes my blood pressure rise as soon… as… the… molasses-slow… introduction… begins. It’s the torturous equivalent of wishing to leave the house to go for a walk, putting on your coat, and standing by the door, and asking your grandfather to tie up your Doc Martens for you. Imagine him slooowly getting out of his rocker. Imagine him finding his walking stick, hobbling over, bending over your boots, and squinting at the mess of laces. Imagine his hands shaking as he picks up one lace loop after another, trying to find the end with the aglet.

Ready to scream, yet? Yeah, me too. I can do it myself faster! I could be already walking through the autumn leaves, breathing the crisp air. I just want to get going on that walk novel.

There, wasn’t that a nice neurosis?

To make it extra ironic… didya know I’ve earned money by reading text aloud? Yes, somewhere out there, my recorded mellifluous tones are pissing off some fast reader.

I have two cats. And I love them both.

There, I’ve admitted it.

Random, the elder of the two, is a stringy Siamese with an incredible force of will and a shocking desire to adore humans. His interests include everything I’m doing, whether it be sleeping, eating (Is that mine? Is it tuna?), plumbing, or moving furniture (Sorry, was I in your way? Oh, I still am? How about now?). He’s such a lovebug that he’s capable of sitting on my lap for hours at a time, staring up at me. When I glance down and our eyes meet, his purr starts up as if eye contact is the on-off switch. If I would consent to wear Random as a scarf all day, he’d be thrilled.

BartholeMEW is a fat brown tabby with some serious self-control issues. His interests include food, food, food and catnip. Or maybe that’s the other way ’round. He’s also fairly high on the adoration scale. If I’m sleeping in a room with the door closed, he sits outside and howls. When I walk into the room where he’s snoozing, he stretches his paws out at me in a gesture of benediction, trills a squeaky little mew, and presents his lush leopard-spotted belly for rubs.

Often, when one of the cats is sitting beside me or on me, I reach out and pet his little furry noggin as he looks up and points his whiskers at me in the benevolent feline smile, and I tell him he’s the best cat ever. The most amazing cat. The smartest, most beautiful, most fuzztacular cat ever.

Doesn’t matter which cat I’m speaking to. Doesn’t matter whether the other cat is close by to overhear. They both know that I’m telling the truth every… single… time.

I’m reading here… something wee and new. Really new. So new I’m still blowing eraser dust off the paper. That new. Coming?

- Elaine

(facebookiness)

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This Thursday, don’t miss the most OBSCENE cabaret-style literary event in Vancouver — Memewar Magazine’s Dirty Little Release Party!

We’re celebrating our Obscenity/Censorship Issue with a choc-a-bloc and totally packed show for your enjoyment! The show STARTS EARLY and ENDS LATE to suit bedtimes and night owls, and will include some of Vancouver’s finest burlesquers, writers, slammers and musicians!

The clothes start coming off at 8:45pm, so bring your sexy selves and support your favourite free literary magazine!

$10
8:30pm
Railway Club

See you there!
Memewar Magazine
www.memewaronline.com
——————–

See y’all on Monday!

• Elaine and Alien are very close to the same word. #

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adapted from Danny Boy (trad) by Elaine Miller

Oh Tranny boy, the cel phone, it is ringing
I chase it to the livingroom and hall
The ringing stops, and the house phone starts its calling
‘Tis you, ’tis you, and I think I missed your call.

But call ye back ’cause the phones are in my lap now
This time I’ll hear that ring and answer
And I’ll be here, just yearning for your voice, now
Oh Tranny boy, oh Tranny boy, I love you so.

And when you call, I’ll feel my heartbeat flying
And I will hear, and speak to you with glee
You are the one I want the most, and I ain’t lyin’
And we’ll see each other in a day or three

Then I shall wait, impatient at the airport
Until then my dreams are of you, sweet boy
And on the phone, you’ll hear me say I love thee
I’ll simply hold that thought until you fly to me.

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“Danny Boy” karaoke music, for those who like to sing along:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nQncqR9WN4

• My cat’s starting to feel better, and I’m so happy about that I could jump up and down and squeak. In fact, I think I will. Now. #

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• And this is a second test of the twitter system. Hallo! I tweet from my own elainemiller.com website interface! I am geek! #
• If you have a chance to avoid pouring boiling water on your hand, do that thing. #
• Dominate is a verb. Dominant is an adjective that is sometimes nouned. You’re welcome. #
• Yay! I got accepted to the Second Person Queer anthology, coming out Spring 2009! Wheee! #

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High School Confidential
A fundraising event for Out on Screen’s Out in Schools program

SAT, SEPT 27, 7:00 PM
The WISE Hall 1882 Adanac St
Show at 8:00PM (followed by a dance party!)
$12 advance / $15 at the door
Buy tickets now!
Also available at Little Sister’s
Sorry, no minors

Go back to school with High School Confidential! This saucy school-themed cabaret puts a queer twist on the high school talent show. It features performances by some of Vancouver’s best burlesque and drag performers. Buy treats at the bake sale! Do a stint in detention! Stick around for the school dance!

===============

Scuttlebutt has it that the school ma’ams supervising the Detention Centre include … well, me. Plus a host of other pervy lovelies.

School desks, saucy lines to write, and an optional dunce cap (for those who like ‘em).

See y’all there?

- Elaine

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Kona’s out of the hospital now, and y’all can drop her an email or give her a call. She still needs plenty o’ rest, so go easy!

She’s post-surgical, doing well, and will be in hospital for the next few days until they let her go home. Want more details? Drop me a line.

I co-run a site for leatherdykes, and lately I was checking in on a conversation about a couple’s poly relationship (they lean to different points on the poly/mono continuum, and it causes friction).

I was struck (pun intended) by how similar the positions taken were, to conversations I’ve seen, overheard, and been part of. My gawd! We all have the same brain! Or at least the same catch phrases.

If I were a grrl with more time on her hands, I might (might) be tempted to do a glossary of common polyamory/polyagony phrases, and seek the universal subtext within. What might we learn about ourselves from such a project? (Besides about our own cynicism. I’m aware of mine and I’ve come to terms with it.)

What are some things you’ve heard again and again?

And to clarify:

My post isn’t at all about queer relationship language compared and contrasted to non-queer relationship language — because I think it’s a truism that all human love relationships in this culture sound pretty much exactly the same.

Any conversation between people in a relationship (we’re in love, you’re the best, what about the groceries, honey did you pay the phone bill, who’s spending too much time on the computer, who shall we fuck tonight, what you think about my mother, who you’re dating and what does poly mean to you, I think we’re breaking up, I can’t believe you thought I meant…) has the same language, intonations, baggage and subtext, whether it’s said in two contralto voices, two tenors, or a mixture of the above.

What I’m looking for is… a look into *why* we (the humans, or even just the poly humans) have the same conversations with each other, saying the same things that people have been saying for as long as there have been people. And why don’t we have any analysis about it?

Is it the human condition to start a fight about buying candleholders when the root of that person’s distress is “I’m scared you’ll feel romantic with someone not-me, and that’ll mean *I’m* somehow not worthy of romance or love!”? Why do we talk in relationships about veto and the intimacy value of a sleepover, and whether it should be allowed, and the rules (control) around beginning dating a third, and the micro-management of sheet sets and sex toys and special coffee mugs and “our restaurant”… when so much of that conversation boils down to a metaphorical “I’m scared when you drive your life around without me as the sole focus. Hand me your steering wheel, I need more control.”

And here’s the kicker question — why is the root feeling so often vociferously denied? It begins the cycle anew. “Look, I’m not jealous, but…..”

I think I think too much.

-Elaine

I was rummaging in archives for a client, and came upon this test I’d made for a new script I’d installed for ‘em in 2002. I post it here as a kind of warning: Beware the Whimsical Geek.

This is a test of the Non-Emergency Broadcast System
October 28, 2002 7:50 pm PT

Does the script work? Like Schroedinger, when I press the button, and the waveform collapses, I know only that it worked or did not work, and the universe that contained the alternative path is closed to me. If it’s all the same to the Universe, I’d like to take the path where it works, please.
-the techdonkey

I had no idea that phrase could be verbed until I did it.

SAT | AUG 23 | 5:00 PM
EMILY CARR UNIVERSITY

http://www.queerfilmfestival.ca/viewshowtime.php?stid=296