quarantine blogging: asking the real questions

  1.  Is a pandemic a good excuse to order more notebooks? (probably no.)
  2. Do I want a Shipt account? (leaning toward yes.)

I really like the Artist’s Loft notebooks from Michael’s, and am concerned that the one I use for a journal will run out before quarantine does.  However, I currently have about ten blank notebooks that I can use that do not require someone to deliver them to me.

The Shipt thing is more about limiting our higher-risk family’s trips to the grocery store, since our local grocery isn’t doing curbside pickup.  I’d like to try it out before I spend $99 on it, though.

Last night, the kiddo dropped his mouse and couldn’t find it.  Okay, his room is a mess.  He’s 12, if I let him have a fridge in there we’d never see him again, of course it’s a mess.  But he could not find his wireless computer mouse, which he heard hit the tile floor.

This is at, like, 9:30pm.  Okay, I tell him, we will look tomorrow, when you can clear your bedroom floor and shake things out.

Today he texts me when he wakes up (at 2pm) with “I found my mouse” and a photo of it in his bed.

“How the everloving f*** did your mouse end up in your bed?!” I texted back.*


Mysteries of Quarantine.

*Yes, I swear in front of my kid.  Yes, my kid is allowed to swear at home.

quarantine blogging: all the links to things!

If you tuned into my Instagram reading this evening, you may be looking for links to things I mentioned tonight …

The first issue of Fuckit: a zine, featuring “There are No Lost Worlds,” which I read tonight, along with some cool photos, odd essays, and poetry.  Stapled, for your punk rock aesthetic.  If you’re a little more into the beautiful than the DIY, check out the chapbooks also available through the same store.

The Changeling by Juniper Butterworth, out today!  Happy book birthday, JB!

The goblin king has come for Taryn, the daughter of the fairy king. Or is she? What begins as a marriage becomes a quest to find out who she is and what she’s lost, aided by the king and the powerful witch Ashmallen, fueled by magic and cheese on toast.

And of course, “The Hammer-Royal Model For Making the Superhero A-List” by one Jason Kimble, which you can listen to or read silently to yourself (let’s be real, at this point in quarantine you might want to plug in some headphones and ignore your roommates for a while).

(My husband just wandered in here, made some unintelligible noises, and wandered back out, so let me go see what’s up there.)

quarantine blogging: rudeness? in *this* pandemic?

I have gotten snippy on Twitter with The New York Times over people’s kids/pets on Zoom and some rando talking about “lacking discipline” if you come out of quarantine without, like, skillz or a side hustle.  Folks, I have to actually work from home for 8 hours a day, you can fuck off trying to make me or anyone else feel guilty for not also writing a novel and keeping the dog from wandering into camera range during a meeting.  We’re over here doing the best we can, and some of us artist types are trying to regain our balance and momentum after massive upheaval.



Reading!  By me!  On Instagram!

Friday (4/3/20) at 7:30pm EST!  I am seldnei over there; come hear a couple of poems and probably a story; I’m aiming for 20-30 minutes.

I’m not nervous yet, but give me time.


Quarantine blogging: “there is no way in which this film is not fucked up”

The husband is watching Midsomar in the office, and it literally sounds bizarre.

I seem to have lost my taste for horror movies. This isn’t due to the pandemic; it’s been like this for a while, now. Not sure what happened there. Horror novels and dark fantasy stories are still my thing, though. I dunno, maybe I’m just tired of jump scares. I am very jumpy, and that’s exhausting. I really do prefer just being creeped out to bouncing like a goddamned pinball.

Kiddo is having to journal A LOT for distance learning, poor mite. I get it: history in the making, journals are good writing assignments. The teachers are trying to get them to think and engage, and one of his teachers is doing a photo journal, which I think is neat. But I also remember being 12 and not wanting to say anything personal to my teacher, good grief, dude, you gave me a C on my science project why would I want to tell you about “my most important person” or some shit?

Anyway, I guess the boy’s English teacher is cool. For today’s writing prompt he got into hating quarantine. He’s been pretty much housebound for three weeks, now, so I definitely get it. But he’s been great about it. No complaining, no whining. I don’t know if I’m impressed by his maturity or angry that he’s having to be mature.

Quarantine blogging: the modern salon

Making pseudo-lesson planner pages for myself to make sure I get things done. Apparently my brain does not wish to self-direct; it wants to be told what to do and when to do it. This is, of course, a reaction to stress. But it’s cool—bullet journaling and therapy have helped me accept that I am a) fickle about planning systems and b) need to do what works.

Watched a friend’s (hellionontherun; I have no idea how to link that?) poetry reading on Instagram this evening, which was so cool. I love the idea of people just hanging out on the internet listening to poetry, not famous people, even, just friends reading their stuff. It was lovely. Also she read my favorite of her poems, so that was cool.

Anyway, I am now planning to steal the idea inspired to maybe do a reading over the weekend? If people would be interested? I got a poem, a couple of short things, maybe 20 minutes of my … er … dulcet tones?

quarantine blogging

The essay is 90% done.  I want to do a re-read of it to pull out the random ‘ands’ before I send it off.

I’m doing a lot of re-reading lately, because I am not super-keen on stories where I don’t have some vague idea of the ending at the moment.  Gee, I wonder why?

So far I’ve re-read The Hunger Games and it sequels, Among Others by Jo Walton, and currently I’m reading The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N.K. Jemisin.


quarantine blogging: my hobbit hole

I did not, in fact, spend the day writing.  I instead spent it rearranging my office so that it better resembled the hobbit hole that I want it to be.

Obviously part of that is once again having a computer tower instead of a small square thing that hides easily.  The other part was all the stuff I brought home with me from the day job that was piled up.

When I was younger, in my 20s, and working for the first time, I had no idea how to not bring my job home with me.  This lasted well into my 30s.  This was mostly due to how many jobs I had that I felt stuck with, and also, you know, the general neurosis of youth.  My youth, anyway.  I’m much better at compartmentalizing my work life and home life nowadays, but I keep thinking how much Past Me would hate having Day Job junk in her office.  Present Me is just like … hm, let me get some magazine organizers for these notebooks so they can be tidy, and how about a day job specific Windows ID?

So now I’m done, and my cave is my cave again.