Friday, March 24, 2017

Things I need, things I want

I need more socks and replacement shoes.  I need oil.  I need food.

These four things represent different ways of going about things.

~ ~ ~

Socks can come from anywhere.  I tend to go to some godless chain store that is destroying all good things in the universe, like say a Walmart, and just buy a package with a lot of cheap socks.  On the other hand, when someone gave me a gift certificate to Sock Dreams it meant that I got some fucking fantastic socks with quality I'd never set out to get myself.

So, yeah, wide range of socks.

Wide range of ways people can help with them.

~ ~ ~

For shoes definitely need them a lot (the sole is coming off of my right shoe in a way that could knock me to the ground in a way I can't really afford) but at the same time, I'd like to get good shoes.  Now the good shoes that I used to have, and really liked, are out of production.  I dug them up (I knew I'd never gotten around to disposing of them) and double checked that.

They haven't been replaced with a new model, they're flat out gone.

I think this is as close as I can come.  Men's because the women's ones are offered in crap colors.  Of course this requires me to learn my shoe size again.  The super old shoe I dug up from the era when I had good shoes is a 10 1/2 wide (also men's), but I honestly have no idea if that was the right size or more like "Close enough".

It's also the sort of thing I'd probably never buy for myself because there are other places where the $99 might reasonably go.  At the moment I'm primarily focusing on paying down high interest debt, for example.

I'll probably end up buying cheap shoes when someone is able to take me to a place that has them.

Of course, money grubbing person that I am, I'll point out that it's possible to get me an LL Bean gift card (apparently it'd get sent straight to my email cpw [at] maine [dot] rr [dot] com.)  It's interesting to me that they say "never expires" like that matters.  This is Maine (they're based in Freeport) and it's illegal to have a gift card expire here.  Unless the company goes bankrupt, the gift card will be good.

~ ~ ~

Oil I've already ordered, I should get a price quote within the next 24 hours.  I expect it to be around $300-ish.  Only way to help me with that is a donation.

~ ~ ~

Food is . . . complicated.  Even as I get more and more able to do things, food preparation is still not on the list.  So I've been ordering things delivered.

That's simple and straight-forward enough, I need money just like with the oil.  (Also expensive as all fuck.)

Where it gets complicated is that I don't know what delivers around her, general internet services to hook you up with delivery places don't know much of anywhere either, and . . . yeah.

Anyone know the delivery scene in the greater Portland area in Maine?

* * *

I want various impossible things, like to be able to go back on my hormones now as opposed to waiting until it's safe (because this demi-depressed state fucking sucks.)

But on the possible side of things, I mostly want interactive fiction.  I want to go to other worlds and do other things and make noticeable progress toward clear goals.  I want a vacation from the real because it's kind of sucking.  Hell, it sucked before I broke my ankle.

I want Kingdom Hearts with the two items on the PS4 wishlist representing nine-ish games of content between them (only six playable) and the three on the list for the 3DS (which I theoretically will have) representing the playable versions of the two unplayable games, and one that had different gameplay mechanics after the system switch.  (Thing nine is an original, as in never a game, cinematic thing delivered in the same way as the two non-playable games.)

I want Breath of the Wild, and to a lesser extent Dishonored 2 which is on the same list and apparently on sale.

I want to be able to immerse myself in other places, other times, other worlds, other people, other everything, because I'm stuck one room most of the time with little that I can do.

I do have non-interactive fiction potential getaways too.  There's a reason that Deep Red is the top movie on this list that I'd forgotten existed until Ana asked me if I could put useful stuff on a wishlist.  That reason is that it's been far too long, I barely remember the movie, and I decided to try to sort the damned list.  Is the list sorted?  Only the stuff that comes above the puzzles.

Get beyond that and there's a lot of "Whut?" and fair amount of, "Ok, I'll grant that this seemed like a good idea at the time, but HOW did it seem like a good idea at the time?"  And also no hierarchy whatsoever.

Thursday, March 23, 2017


I've been out of state.

That might not seems like the best thing to do, but it meant spending time living with other people.  (Broken ankle is much easier to manage when someone can carry stuff from one room to another and actually make food.)  It was also part of a plan (or was it a plot?) to inject something up into this broken ankle time.

See, there was a concert.

Apparently once something has happened all record of it ceases to exist, so I can't link to anything, but it was Dar Williams at the Cabot Theater in Beverley, Mass.

That was one day after I made the journey from home to Massachusetts, and five days after the concert, which was yesterday, it was time to come home.

This is, as you might imagine, a bit of a process.

~ ~ ~

I didn't have to worry about losing my hat on the way home as I'd lost it on the way over.  There was the obligatory forgetting of important things (the two external hard drives on which my computer had been backed up) and all of the usual stuff.

But the thing is . . . I'm fatter and weaker than I used to be, somehow my backpack seemed to weigh as much as a twelve year old, and the T is . . . the T.

Thus I started off absurdly early in hopes of maybe catching my bus.

~ ~ ~

Oak Grove does at least have elevators.  The elevator doors have a habit of only opening half way when they're supposed to open, and getting open the rest of the way sometime in the following week.  This is fucked up, and while it doesn't inconvenience me I have seen it, and could have figured out without the seeing of it, be really fucking unhelpful to a person in a wheelchair.

Also, I spent a good deal of time wishing for a wheelchair.

Anyway, I crutched from drop off to elevator, then from elevator to bench.  Then I rested.  If I were walking this would be absurd.

After a while I made my way to the place where you pay, I'd actually acted like an intelligent person and taken the Charlie Card (an RFID card that you put money on electronically so that you can use the Boston T by holding said card up to a reader which is a lot faster than other means of payment) out before getting off the bench.

Another elevator, much exertion to get to the damned train.  Normally I go to the far end, because that's where my exit is.  I barely made it to the near end in time to catch what was, I think, the second train to leave since I was dropped off.

Also, it was fucking cold, and something about the combination of crutches and my backpack kept making my shirt ride up.

I usually describe the behavior of the Orange Line as it goes outbound.  Inbound is . . . well, stuff.

At Oak Grove, which is the end of the line, it's a ground train.  Next stop is Malden Center.  For that it's a full blown L (elevated) train.  Then it goes back to the ground, crosses the water, comes into the place with the giant Lego Giraffe (actually Duplo, but Duplo is a Lego brand), and really starts to flirt with the idea of being an L again, but comes back down to earth for the stops themselves.

A while later it's underground and we have achieved subway.

Downtown Crossing is my stop.  Downtown Crossing has no elevators.  Downtown Crossing has a sign saying that elevators will be installed.  I was told that they said it would take seven months.  This was said a year ago.

But before we even get to the lack of elevators, remember that I'm on the wrong end of the train.

I think I have to stop and rest two times just to walk from one end of the platform to the other.

When I get to the stairs down to the Red Line I take a third rest.  I am, by now, drenched in sweat.

For most of the way there's a sturdy railing, this is good because going down stairs on crutches sucks.  I'm very slow and get in various peoples ways.

At the end of the stairs, though, something changes.  For the last few steps.  Just three or four of them between a landing and platform level, the railing ceases to be a good railing because it's no longer bolted to the fucking wall.

Thus I have to sit on my ass and slowly butt slide down the final stairs.  There's no one there right then, so I have a sort of mini-break.

It's not enough.  I don't even make it down the hall, drop to my knees at a hall intersection, the intersection makes it wider, so I hope that I won't be too much in the way.

Multiple trains let off people going between the Red Line and Orange Line.  Several of the people wonder if I need help, if I'm dying, if they should call emergency services on my behalf, and so forth.

I eventually reach the Red Line just as a train leaves.

I don't remember if I got there in one trip or not.  It seems unlikely, but I don't remember stopping.

Anyway, I got to the good place to get on the train.

I was only on for one stop, but damn was it nice to be able to sit.  (I'd also been not-up while waiting for the train to come.)

~ ~ ~

Once I got off at South Station I walked to the wall opposite the tracks and collapsed.

I didn't quite stay there until the next train came, but it was close.

I remembered that south station did have elevators and actually used it to get to T-Loby level.

The elevator to ground level, however, is out of service.  Ish.

Now I was drenched in sweat before I even got on the train that brought me here, so as one might imagine I'm not exactly trying to add heat to myself.  My coat is sort of tied around my waist (the sleeves aren't quite long enough to make a decent knot) and definitely not keeping me warm.

Thus we come to the "ish".

I was fully willing to take the escalator.  The up escalator was shut down.  Not just shut down.  The only reason I remembered that South Station has elevators in the first place is because the up escalator from the platform was also shut down.  This one, however, is shut down and blocked off as if it is the scene of a nuclear waste spill.

So, the "ish".  There is an elevator to ground level.  It just isn't inside the station.  It lets you out outside of the building, and then you have to go through the death-cold to get back inside South Station.

Finding the elevator required enough energy that I had to drop to the ground and rest before using it.

Getting from the elevator back into the building required another period of rest.

It's a bit hazy until I sat at one of the tables and took off my bag for rest where I was sitting on an actual chair.

There were clocks.  I had time.  Seriously.  There was over an hour until my bus left.

And I was really fucking thirsty, and (having recovered from the outside's death cold) back to overheating.

When I was sufficiently rested I went over to the place next to the pink berry and got a strawberry banana smoothy, put as much weight on the counter as I could to take it off of my right leg which was, remember, doing all of the work.  Work that's more than normal. even before you take the fact that one leg is doing all of it into account, because you don't walk with crutches, you vault.

Smoothy comes and we have the difficult and strange hopping of someone who's only using one crutch, well using both crutches as if they're a single crutch, because they need a hand free to carry a smoothy.

I'm kind of surprised I actually made it back to the table and chair place.

Some brain freeze troubles, but otherwise the smoothy was very good and something that I needed.

The moment I decide to get up and go to the bus terminal, boarding is announced on track one.

South Station is in three sections.  Below ground, and at the front, is the T.  Red Line and Silver Line.  Above ground, and in the front to front-middle, is the waiting area of the long distance trains.  This is full of food places and . . . um, stuff.

Occupying the entire rest of the middle (which is definitely the biggest section) is an outdoor area where the long distance trains board.

At the back is the second building that makes up South Station: the bus terminal.

So to get from where I was to where I was going I had to go outside, for a fair distance, and here's the annoying part: there is no dedicated way to get from front South Station to back South Station.  Instead you walk down the boarding platform for track one.

If timing is right, that's not too much of a problem, but if you happen to have the misfortune of moving from one end to the other when track one is boarding . . . it's a hassle even when you can walk.

So I waited longer than planned, and even so I got in people's way because I was slow, and I had to take breaks (did I mention that the temperature was death-cold?), and more people enquired as to my well being or lack thereof.

Once I got inside the bus terminal the first thing I did was take another break.  The windows have sills that are perfect for sitting on.

The elevator here did work, so that's what I did once I could.

That only gets you one floor, though, and you need to to go two.

Nice stone bench for a break in between the two elevators.

Up the next one, still haven't missed my bus, go to where the buses are, have a sort of mini standing-break at the entrance, and then get to where my bus is in, I think, one push.  And promptly collapse because that's overdoing it.  I was in fact trying to begin the process of getting to the ground to sit.  But no one who saw could have mistaken what happened for intentional.

It was, however, a clean landing on hands and knees.

I should probably mention something about my right hand at this point though.  Before the concert I slipped on black ice (it hurts pedestrians too) in a Subway (sandwich place) parking lot.  Landed on my hands.  The thumb section of my right palm didn't like this, but it wasn't a big deal.

All of this crutching around, though, put a a lot of pressure on my hands, including the thumb section of my right palm.

It was a very unhappy hand, is the point.

~ ~ ~

The bus ride home was largely uneventful, though Amazon did want me to know that I was running out of time to pre-order Kingdom Hearts HD 1.5 + 2.5 ReMIX (top of the wishlist) which . . . why would you remind someone of something like that?  Oh my god, come the 28th you'll be able to order-order it instead of pre-order it.  Woe is everyone if that should come to pass, buy now so you won't have to order-order!

And this is a source of minor annoyance because I thought that it came out February 28th when I put it on the wishlist.  Though, I would have put it there anyway.  I've always wanted to play Kingdom Hearts and that represents the the first six games worth of content.

I feel like there might have been other things of note on the bus, but none come to mind.

~ ~ ~

I was picked up by my dad.  From him I learned that there may be an animal in the house (beyond mice and such) that wasn't invited (but it could just as plausibly have been his eyes playing tricks on him) and that I had no oil.

As it would turn out, I did have oil.  But the house had been without heat for days.  It was cold.

When I made it down stairs (not an easy task) I discovered that the water was too low for the furnace to run, and the oil gauge was on empty.  I put in enough water, toggled the power on and off, and the thing started running.  The gauge has always been an approximation.

Of course at this point the house was really cold, I had no idea how much oil there was (no idea if it could heat the house or would burn through in a minute or two),  and . . . stuff.  I brought up an electric blanket and a blanket so heavy I haven't needed it since I've been forced by ankle to sleep up stairs, reheated my numb feet with a heating pad while the two blankets worked together to create a warm cocoon.

~ ~ ~

And that was my homecoming.

I think.

Other Stories, a Harry Potter Snippet

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.]

[...] on the Harry Potter thing, if these things are being left to one group, it kind of implies that there are other things being done by other groups because it doesn't make sense for one grade to have all of the, "I must break the rules to do good things," people.

Something like:

* * *

Senior Ravenclaw: We're being watched.
Senior Slytherin: What? Wher-- Oh.
Senior Hufflepuff: We know you're there first years.
Senior Ravenclaw: It's really going to be easier if you just show yourselves.

*Harry, Ron and Hermoine come out from under the invisiblity cloak*

Senior Gryffindor: Please tell me the three of you aren't doing something stupid again.
Senior Slytherin: [to senior Gryff] That's no way to say, "Hello." [to heroes] What are you three doing out here?

Hermoine: We're going to the forbidden hallway to stop the Philosopher's Stone from being stolen. We think the thief might be trying to revive the dark lord.

Senior Ravenclaw: That's nice.
Senior Hufflepuff: Good luck with that.
Senior Slytherin: We're going to the secondary storage area to stop a love potion production operation.
Senior Ravenclaw: The tangled and twisted magic around the school makes it ideal for hiding illicit operations.
Senior Slytherin: If we weren't busy, we'd help you out with your dark lord problem.

Ron: (outraged) You think love potions are more important than-!-

Senior Ravenclaw: Even if the dark lord is resurrected it'll take time to rebuild his power base and become a threat.
Senior Hufflepuff: Time during which opposition to him can be built back up.
Senior Ravenclaw: The love potions are a problem right now.
Senior Slytherin: They ship at daybreak, every day, so if we waited another night after learning where they were operating we'd be insuring there are more victims.
Senior Gryffindor: That's not an option.

Harry: But we're talking about--
Hermoine: Actually, I'm with them on this. Love potions are evil.

*two groups start to go separate ways*

Senior Slytherin: Good luck, see you all at the final feast.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017


I can move water from the bedroom to the kitchen and back because of conveniently placed counters, chairs, tables, and other such things.  Set it down.  Crutch to midpoint.  Pick it up, move it in front of me, set it down, we're back at the beginning.

I can't move a cup of water from the kitchen to the living room unless I'm willing to forget about standing and crutches, and drop to my knees or crawl.

I can't cook.  I can't clean.  I can't ... I can't ... I can't.

I fucking can't.

I can't wash my clothes.  I can shower, but only just.

I had to have a child carry my laptop into this room because I can't.

I've been feeling so god damned useless and helpless, but it's necessary to heal and all that.

And I was at least succeeding in taking care of my injury.


I don't remember what I was getting up to do.  The pain erased any sense of that.  Maybe I didn't even know at the time.  It could have been an impulsive thing.

I got up and took two steps.  One step is fine.  Step, put weight on something else, step, and so forth is how one moves in this condition.

Two steps is very, very bad.

If I'm wearing the air cast, I can put less than half my weight on my left foot.

A second step means I put all of my fucking weight on my left foot. (I wasn't wearing the air cast.)

It's been over half an hour.  Pain still lingers.

I only had one thing to do.  Just take care of the injury.

I just fucked that up.

And it hurts.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Ash: Questions

This is basically the climax of the story, don't read if you don't want it spoiled.
[Totally not a final version, will probably be completely reworked.]
[Context: First installment of Ash is here.  There was a school dance where the theme was a masquerade, some of the students getting into it enough that their identities were well and truly concealed.  At her sister's prompting, Ash, a closeted trans girl, went as a girl and not the boy she presents as.  Ash ended up losing her good luck charm (her deceased mother's MP3 player) and this scene is after Ash has convinced Zee, the girl she was dancing with, that it really is her MP3 player.]

- - -

"The dance was . . . magical; it was like a fantasy," Ash said. "But that's over, everything has collapsed back into reality.  Your mystery girl was just a dream; I'm all that's left.  Sorry.  I know it sucks.

"Now can I please have my mother's MP3 player back."

"I have questions," Zee said.

"You're going to hold the MP3 player hostage--" Ash didn't get a chance to finish.

"No!" Zee said as she shoved the MP3 player into Ash's hand.  "Of course not.  Take it."

Ash brought the MP3 player to her chest and said said, "mom" so softly she wasn't sure it was out loud.  The one connection to the only parent that might have loved her was back.  It was with her again.

Ash's attention returned to Zee and found her in the middle of a sentence.  ". . . still have questions but I'd never force you to do anything.  I'd like to think you know me better than that."

"Lot of stress," Ash mumbled.  "Ask and get it over with."

"At the dance, were you trying to trick--"

"You asked me to dance."

"I felt like I knew you," Zee said.

"You did."

"Apparently not as well as I thought."

"That's nice."

"Do you like me?"

"Thought that was what friendship was about."

"Don't make me go contrastive focus reduplication on you."

"We covered this already," Ash said, anger flaring for no comprehensible reason.  "Yes, I do, and for a while I got to pretend there was a chance of something coming from it.  But pretend time ended, so what does it matter?"

"It matters," Zee said as inched closer.  "Next question, are you a boy or a girl?"


"So we've ruled out non-binary options," Zee said.  Ash was mildly surprised she knew such things existed, and barely noticed that Zee inched forward again.  "Are you a girl?"

Zee had most definitely invaded Ash's personal space.  They were so close now, and she was looking right in Ash's eyes.

Ash knew the smart thing would be to lie.  Instead she admitted, "Yes," in a way that sounded as defeated as she felt.  Her only friend would reject her now.  Things could get bad going forward.

"Last question," Zee said, "will you go out with me?"

The "What?" was produced without any real thought on Ash's part.

"You know, a date.  We go somewhere together and do something and if we're lucky there might be kissing involved."

"But you're . . ."

"And you're a girl," Zee said.  "We covered that."

Ash's first thought was shot down and became flaming wreckage in her mind.  Zee wouldn't try to trick her.  But it was still impossible to believe.  "You're serious?"

"Of course I am," Zee said.  "Just come as the real you, no pretending to be a boy."

"Pretending to be a boy is safe."

"Then we can be careful," Zee said.  "Go out of the way to avoid people we know, stick to less well lit places, stuff like that.

"What kinds of movies do you like?" Zee asked.

"Fun, explosions, hope," Ash said.

Zee seemed to think that over for a bit and then said, "There's nothing good in theaters right now, but I've got Fury Road on disk and a big screen TV."

"LED or LCD?"


"And you wonder why everyone thinks of you as some rich kid."

"I don't wonder about it," Zee said, "I just wish they didn't think it was my defining quality"

The conversation lagged.

"You know, you haven't actually answered me yet." Zee said.

Ash closed the small distance between them, hugged Zee, and said, "Yes.  So very much yes."

- - -

Or something like that, not satisfied with it.

Imported Comment: Weapon Durrability mechanics, and inability to pick up weaponizable things, in Zombie games

[Originally posted as a comment at Ana Mardolls.]

Random pet peeve:

It makes a certain amount of sense that fighting zombies with a stick would eventually break the stick. The number of hits you get out of a cast iron pipe, on the other hand, is positively absurd. Unless the zombies are made of stronger stuff and you're hitting with more force than a human being can muster.

The absurdity is raised to ludicrousness when a metal ax breaks in like five hits. We're talking about something that is designed to be smashed into solid wood enough times to cut down many trees, often for years on end, before a wood handle would break, and this one has a stronger handle than that. Yet five hits to something significantly softer than wood and it's kaput.

[Added] I meant to mention the machette too. I stab people with it, meaning it's under minimal stress as it's encountering only soft tissue that it easily moves through. Four stabs and it breaks for no apparent reason. [/added]

I understand that weapon degradation is gameplay mechanic, just like slapping an alcohol disinfected bandage wouldn't really cure you from being repeatedly shot, but the thing is that instant-absurd-heal medkits are there to make the game possible. Otherwise you'd be dead before you reached the plot. We let it fly because they help us, as players, actually play the game.

The sturdy looking ax that's apparently made out of aluminum foil is not a necessary break from realism. The game would be just as possible if the only weapons that broke are ones that realistically would, and, in fact, we know that the game takes place in a world where weapons can be more durable than reality given the magical jam-proof guns that would, realistically, break down way faster than a cast iron pipe.

But I haven't even reached the height of pet-peeve yet. If I'm playing a game where I have to replace my melee weapons every two seconds because they're composed of paper mache, don't fucking send me to a place with pool cues that I can't pick up. Those things aren't very durable at all*, but they'd do better work than my cast iron pipe that was somehow imported from a Wile E Coyote cartoon where it had been manufactured by Acme and even if they didn't, they'd at least be multiple "breathe on it and it disintegrates" weapons that I could use on the clickers.

And this isn't even getting into the fact that while I can throw bottles and bricks, two things whose shape demonstrates they were never intended to be thrown, but I can't pick up the pool balls which are shaped exactly how we design things that are meant to be thrown.

First zombie game I make, the main character's primary ranged weapon is going to be a sling that's sized for pool balls.

When the conquistadors came the natives had them matched in firepower partially because the guns at the time sucked, but equally because their sling stones (actually made of clay) were manufactured to all be the same weight and shape allowing for much more control than using found objects. That's why the deciding factor was swords. (Wooden swords with obsidian blades are absolutely devastating to a person they're used on, but they can't survive a hit from a metal sword.)

Long range, the character will have to use a gun, but mid range the pool ball sling should be highly effective, no have a limited ammo problem because of ball retrieval, and have refills to replace lost balls pretty much anywhere in America that someone didn't have the same idea.

But this is beside the point, which is this:

If I'm fighting with found sticks, don't show me piles of found sticks that I can't pick up for fighting purposes.



* The typical pool cue is made of hardrock maple.  Way stronger than the sticks the game does let you fight with, but not nearly so strong as a cast iron pipe.

Communal cues are usually one piece affairs making them slightly longer than a Japanese  jō, I'm told the Chinese weapon that's mostly equivalent is called a bang, but I can only find one source so I'm not entirely convinced.  I have difficulty believing that there isn't a western weapon made out of about that length of wood, but I can't find one.

Two part cues would be even more durable.  Simply put, the longer something is, the easier it is to break.  Separating the cue would also lend itself to an interesting fighting style.  The butt end of a cue would essentially become a club, while the striking end would be able to be used as a lighter faster weapon.

Friday, March 17, 2017

Time for another update

As of yesterday I have a foot again.  I've got an air-cast, but I can take my foot out of it, have a look, verify that it exists, and even take a shower.  In theory on that last point.  I'll need to look around for a good waterproof thing to rest a knee on while in the shower.  What I did yesterday wasn't really a shower, but it did make me the cleanest I've been in ages.  (I fail sponge bathing forever.  Apparently that's not uncommon.)

Here's the bad news: It's going to be at least four weeks before I can return to my hormones.  That's also when they said I'd be able to walk again if things went well.  I suspect the two are related.

So that will leave me in this pseudo-depressed state for a while yet to come.

Other good news, the bills I was stressed about: not going to be a problem.  In fact I should be able to make significant progress on paying down my debt and cover those bills.

I lost another hat,  not sure if it was on the bus or the T.  I left one of my shoes in a different state (not lost, there was just complexity and confusion).  I had been hoping to wear it rather than the air cast when lightness was more beneficial than rigidity.

Sticking with shoes, I'm going to need new ones.  A couple of times on the journey my right sole tried to tear itself off of my shoe.


My foot still needs elevation, but I'll be returning to the fictional worlds of a more upright nature as well.  It's why I removed Dishonored II from the PS4 list and stuck the PC version on a new list that also has Breath of the Wild* because being able to be upright means both using PC games and that my Wii-U is no longer a non-entity.  Right now my only game for the Wii-U it is Splatoon.


I don 't know what to say if someone wants to help.  Donations will always help until I'm totally out of debt, but right now I'm not in immediate need.

The really nice thing about the wishlists, and before that when I got a gift certificate for socks, is that it's about luxuries I'd never get myself.  If one looks at, which the gift certificate was for, those are better socks than I'd ever buy myself with my money.  I've wanted playstation only games since before anyone was even thinking about the eventual possibility of a PS4, but I'd never have bought myself a playstation console, and the games themselves are more expensive than I'd allow myself to pay even though I really do want to play Kingdom Hearts, for example.

That's the fun thing, about non-monetary gifts I guess.  If you give me money then I'll spend it on something I can justify to myself a reasonable expenditure.  If you get me something then it might be better than I'd ever get myself.  Thus the possibility of Breath of the Wild, or Kingdom Hearts, or a 3DS.


I do kind of wish I had some good way to have help buying shoes.  Ideally I tend to want durrable things that are somewhere between hiking shoes and hiking boots.  They're good shoes for all occasions.  How someone could help on that count I know not.


* A couple of people on the greater Slacktiverse have played Breath of the Wild and It sounds like the kind of game I've long wanted and would love.  Also I think there's some rule about needing to play Zelda at some point in your life, and I never have (stuck a couple other Zelda things on the new list.)

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

What am I? [summary of past events, then bare bones dialog only exchange] (Zombie Apocalypse)

Notes and context up front:

So I have this forming idea for a complex zombie apocalypse setting with many protagonists whose paths cross at various times and places and . . . stuff.  This is a world that isn't the same as my pre-existing zombie fics, it probably will include someone on crutches as one of the protagonists.

As I mentioned at one point elsewhere, I totally get the desire to have a cute redhead with freckles in her early teens in your zombie apocalypse fiction, and the older character here, currently just called "Older", is my shot at that.

The younger character, currently just called "Younger", I don't have demographics worked out for at all.  She's a trans girl.  When she was orphaned in the earlier days of the zombie apocalypse she realized that no one was there to force her to pretend to be a boy.  She met her first companion at a pharmacy where the pharmacist was doing the difficult task of staying open until there were no drugs left to give out to those that needed them.

The pharmacist, not an actual doctor, worked out her treatment plan.

The companion met was an college age cis male who showed up to get as many depression meds as possible so that the inevitable return to deep depression could be put off.

Younger was on hormones by the time companion switch happened.  What happened is that Younger and original companion could see that bad people were flanking Older, and would kill her, but only Younger could make the climb necessary to reach Older first and warn her.  Original companion was able to lead some of the bad people away allowing Younger and Older to escape together, but as they fled in a different direction from original companion, they never met back up with original companion.

At this time Younger passed as cis, and never mentioned being trans.  Older knew that younger needs to loot pharmacies to keep medicate, and knew that whatever younger gets there isn't something most looters take, but was unaware that Younger was trans until traumatic event that comes right before the exchange below.

I haven't figured out what it is, though.  I definitely don't want it to be a rape attempt, but whatever it is leaves younger exposed at least from the waist down.  Actually, thinking about it, maybe the people who captured Younger just routinely confiscate prisoners clothes as part of prisoner processing, the better to make sure that there are no hidden weapons or tools.

Anyway, Older comes to the rescue, and the two together fight off the people responsible for traumatic event, Younger gets re-clothed, and the two leave.  Older is left concerned, and the conversation starts when Older is absolutely sure they're in a safe place.

* * *

Older: "Are you alright?"

Younger: "I'm not injured."

Older: "That's not what I meant."

Younger: "Oh."

Older: "You didn't defend yourself at all, you only started fighting when I was in danger."

Younger: "Uh huh."

Older: "What's wrong?"

Younger: "I just--" *turns away*  "It's . . ." *leans on wall* "They're right." *slides down wall*

Older: "About what?  They tried to kill us."

*Younger hugs knees into chest*

Younger: "I'm a freak."

*Older crouches down to look Younger in the eyes*

Older: "You're not a freak."

Younger: "Then what am I!?"

Older: "You're my sister."

*Younger awkwardly lunges forward and hugs Older*

Monthly Finance Post

Apparently I haven't done one of these since November.  Not exactly the best at keeping things monthly.

That said, I've been airing my problems in other places so I'm sure you've all had your fill, more than your fill really, of my financial problems regardless.

In general I'm still getting less than I need each month to the point that I can't build up savings to pay for the non-monthly expenses, and even when donations would allow me to start building I'm trying to pay down my debt which is the only smart thing to do long term but makes it so that short and mid term still have the same problem of not being able to pay for non-monthly expenses.

Basically I'm operating as if I'm going to make it through the current tough times, without actually having a clear way to do it.  If I'm still here in a month, six months, a year, so forth, then I'll be glad I've been paying down the debt.  I'm not entirely sure how I'll manage to still be here.

That's generally.

Specifically I've needed to do something I'd never normally do: subsist on a lot of delivery.  That shit's expensive.  No real choice though.  I needed food where the preparation was entirely done for me.

So it should come as no surprise that I'm unprepared to pay the insurance on the house which is due on the 20th.

It gets worse when I add in that last month I wasn't exactly on top of things (something about breaking my fucking ankle in three places midway through the month) and I have to pay for the fallout from that this month.

In another post I worked out that these things together should be $474.58 or thereabouts.  Now I actually do have the money to pay for a solid one half of that (from patreon), but I can't get to it right now (it's a security thing) and I'm not completely sure that I will be able to before I need to pay the money.


So, here are numbers:

This month I need: $474.58

The single debt that it would be best to pay off in terms of getting rid of high interest: $1,359.47

The single debt that it would be easiest to pay off to get rid of a monthly payment: $473.64

Number of things that will eventually come around to bite me because they have defered interest that will be retroactively applied if not paid off in full in time: 3


There's also the question of what I'm doing while I wait to heal.  At the moment I'm still in a state of "must elevate ankle" but I'm hoping that will end (though I don't even get to try to walk for another four weeks regardless).  I meet with the surgeon for the follow up tomorrow.  I'm also hopeful that I can get back on my hormones because my moods fucked all to hell.

It's sort of like . . . depression lite.

Why am I talking about this in a finance post?  I'm really, really, really not in a position to buy any new games.  So if someone wanted to do something nice that involved money, but wasn't a direct donation, the option of buying me a game exists.  Hence the wishlists (linked to below.)

Right now I'm spending a lot of time on the floor with my foot on a chair playing games.  I'm currently playing through the Uncharted series (thank you Firedrake) and playing Dragon Quest Builders (thank you Ana.)

I would very much like to be able to add Kingdom Hearts to that list (the two things on the wishlist have 9ish games between them, ish because only six are playable with three being movie-type-things.)

Also, once I'm able to be upright for extended periods (sitting counts) I can use the only console I ever owned before this ordeal, which I often forget about because I've got all of one game for it (though I do highly recommend Splatoon), my Wii-U.

After reading genesistrine write about playing Breath of the Wild I really want to play that, it sounds like it was made to appeal to me, so I made a new wishlist and slapped it on that.  The idea for the new wishlist is things I can do once I'm no longer in "elevate to the exclusion of all else" territory.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Health Regeneration

[This comes from the idea of making in-universe sense of things in video games, think of it like Tutorial but on a different topic.  Also in a different setting.]

You're not human, that's what's going to get you through this, assuming you actually do survive.  Wounds that would take a human being months or years to recover from are things you can heal your way out of in under a minute.

All you need to do is get your body into a state of rest, that includes no longer being shot, stabbed, punched, burned, fried, functioning as an electrical resistor, crushed, impaled--

Just what the fuck do you think is going to happen to me?

You want to do great justice or some other naive bullshit like that, I expect you to be subjected to everything short of a meat grinder.

Somehow I doubt I'll be run through a meat grinder.

I said everything short of that.  Anyway, get your body in a state of rest and count to thirty at a pace somewhere between languorous and ordinary.  That should get you back to normal.  But have like a backpack of extra clothes or something because they won't magically heal.

Thank you fashion consulting.  I'm not planning on being shot stabbed and sliced so very much that the bullet holes, punctures, and incisions in my clothing make me indecent.

You're so damned naive.

So I just wait a bit?  I'm supposed to trust my survival to my ability to be a stopwatch.

One of the few areas where you're in luck.  You're not human but you are human enough that your eyes aren't like mine.

And this helps how?

The closer you come to death, the more the spirit world will become visible to you.  When you're at death'd door it'll be so overpowering you'll see only it.  As you heal it will recede and you'll see the mundane world unhindered again.

I repeat: and this helps how?  I thought the spirit world had the same archetexture.  Unless there's a convenient ghost right in front of me--

Only your rods are capable of perceiving the spirit world, half-breed.  For some reason they have an easier time with it and your eyes are too human for your cones to see the spirit world.

So the spirit world is black and white, like I'd see in low light.

No, it's full of vibrant colors some of which you're incapable of even imagining.  You can only see it in black and white.  Just remember that when the colors fade you're not well, when they go away you're near death, and when they're back to normal you're fully healed.

What if I get shot in my eyes?

Wear goggles or something if you're so concerned.

What are the limits on this healing?  If I lose an arm--

Then pick it up, wait for a calm moment, and sew it back on.

If I get shot in the head?

Try not to.

But if I do?

If you do, and you remain conscious long enough to escape and heal, then you're in luck.  Your soul is tied to your body much more tightly than a human's.  It'll be able to tell your brain how to heal properly.  A human with brain damage usually doesn't get access to how they were before until after they're dead and their brain no longer mediates between their soul and their consciousness.

Hellfire and Angelfire?

Pack a medkit.  If you patch yourself up, the healing will take over as if the wounds were mundane.  If you don't patch the holes, you risk bleeding out the same as a human with an ordinary wound.

My odds of success?

It would take a miracle, and half breeds like you aren't in the good graces of any of the powers capable of granting one of those.

So why the advice?

Some people, ones with incredible willpower and the stupidity to put themselves in situations where there's no hope of winning can make their own luck and change the odds.

You don't think highly enough of me for that to be a factor in your thinking.

There is a chance, however slim, that you will survive.  That chance wouldn't exist if I didn't give you a basic primer on your biology.  So, when you end up dead having failed to accomplish anything, I can keep my conscience clear by reminding myself that I gave you that chance.

If, on the other hand, I didn't give you that chance, then I would always have a nagging doubt that maybe you would have survived if I'd given you the chance to do so.

That does sound more like you.


And that shifted characterization between beginning and end.  When I first had this thought it started with "You're not human, that's what's going to get you through this" and the faith of that (you will get through this) was a key part, as was a genuine desire on bold's part to help Italic survive.

Took a sharp turn at "My odds of success?"  Not sure why it did.

And I could just cut that section off and have it be an in-universe explanation for the health regeneration that signifies damage by desaturating the world and healing by letting the colors return.

Not sure which version of the characters I like more, Bold with faith that given the right information Italic can survive, or Bold pretty much sure that Italic is going to die, and only doing it so Bold can have a clear conscience when Italic is inevitably a corpse.

The original idea probably ends right before "Hellfire and Angelfire?" but I was thinking of a semi-divine explanation for why Italic isn't human and thus can regenerate health so the question did flow from the premise in my head.

Apparently my name is famous in court rooms

[This was written on the night of the 13th but I decided to schedule it for the morning of the 14th.]
[If you care about such concerns, you're welcome.  If you don't, ignore this.]

My sister called me up to tell me about another day in court.  She usually doesn't.

The reason she called me up after this particular day in court was that she was asked, "Do you have a brother?"

Apparently she was nice about it.  She says she said, "No.  I used to, but I have a sister now."

My existence confirmed she was asked if I had a blog.  If the blog was Stealing Commas.  So far she knows the answers.

And then the point was reached.  Did she know that there was a poem about the incident?

Nope.  She didn't.

Somebody did.

Looking back at the poem, I got a lot of details wrong.  Since going public in any kind of detail wasn't going to happen any time soon back then, there wasn't a lot of clarification going on and I misunderstood some things.  But the thing about the poem is that it wasn't supposed to be a point-by-point accurate-to-the-molecule retelling of what happened when I wasn't there.

It was instead a telling of my experience when I was there of trying to understand what my sister's family was going through, thinking I did, and finally realizing that I didn't.

It would be dishonest to go back and change the details I got wrong, because the poem is talking about what I believed, mistakes and all, at the time.  To change it to match things I've learned since then would be dishonest.  I misunderstood some things the first time I heard them.  That's the honest truth.

~ ~ ~

It is believed by individuals in some quarters that the Moons are reading Stealing Commas.  I'm not sure how to feel about that, if it is indeed correct.  On the one hand, I love readers.  On the other . . . it's the Moons.

Ten years ago I'd be happy to have them.  Stealing Commas didn't exist ten years ago, though.  A lot has happened since then, and when it comes to what the Moons have done, much of the stuff that has happened has been bad.

~ ~ ~

Anyway, my poetry has been cited in a court case, I guess that means I hit the big time or some such.

Monday, March 13, 2017

General Update

Primary computer is home again, I'm writing on it now, but since I'm still supposed to be keeping my left foot above my heart I'm mostly sticking to the gaming console because it's downright hard to use a laptop while supine and with primary computer there's also the fact that it's heavy.  If it slipped and fell on my head it would hurt.

I'll get a better idea of what the future looks like on the coming Thursday.  I won't be able to walk, but if I'm lucky they'll tell me I can stop worrying so much about foot elevation and if I'm very lucky they'll let me back on my hormones so my brain won't be fucky on account of being off of them.

Would be nice to have a clear head, a lack of tired, and an ability to contact my muse.  I could write stuff.  That would be good.

I'm still subsisting on delivery food because . . . you try cooking with your foot above your heart.  Unless you're a figure skater, then you probably do have that kind of flexibility and control.  Delivery food is still expensive.


Property insurance is due on the 20th.  *pause while I look around* I seem to misplaced the thing that says how much it is.  Usually around $250 I think.  Or $270?  *does a search* It was $272 once.  That's probably a good bet.

I've kind of been focused on other things.  Sometimes to the point of using money on them that would normally go to bills.  Hell, I think I had to pay more than half that to get primary computer backed up which they didn't fucking do properly, but I'll get back to that.

I haven't been the most on top of things so there have been late fees and a few utility bills that didn't get paid last month and so rolled over into this month.  It works out to $202.58 more than I have.  Sort of.  Maybe.

I've got more than $200 (but definitely not $474.58) from two months of patreon but I haven't been the most on top of things, like I said, and I don't know if I'll be able to get the money to me in a form I can use to pay bills before the bills are due since I basically started the process of getting the money . . . two minutes ago, and the first thing it does when you screw with those settings is put a hold on withdrawals as a security precaution.  The hold isn't excessively long, but neither is the amount of time I have before bills are due.

I think that's all of the money stuff, so we can go back to other stuff.


My sister's life is an unending catastrophe these days and given that my parents aren't exactly sympathetic (they excuse their actions based on the stress they've been put under without ever seeming to realize that my sister is under way more stress than they are since she's the one being fucked over) I get hit by the exhaust more than somewhat when our worlds intersect.  She can't keep it all bottled up, I get that, and so I understand that she has to vent, but it isn't pleasant.

Nor is the fact that my parents vent at me about her.


I've played Gravity Rush and The Last of Us (including the Left Behind DLC) all the way through, and I'll have stuff to say about that, mostly The Last of Us, as soon as I'm not so fucking tried and mood-screwed.  Which, unfortunately, might mean, "At some point when I've returned to my hormones and they've had time to build up to appropriate levels in my body," whenever the fuck that might be.

With Gravity Rush having been played I think the only thing left on my "I've wanted to play this for years, but haven't been able to because I've never had a console" list is the Kingdom Hearts series, which I've been interested in for so God damned long I don't even remember what kicked off the interest.  I just remember it kept coming up, and I kept thinking I'd like to play it, and I kept finding out, "Nope, not on PC."

Unfortunately, the console that I have it on won't have the early games until March 28th, I honestly thought when I added that to the wishlist that it said Februrary 28th.

Regardless, significant progress on the "Actually play the games I've pined for" front.


Regarding this computer, the fucked up story of it's repair is something I'm going to have to spend a whole post on, but the salient point for now is that the drive that the computer is actually supposed to run off of was completely ignored.  So it's working, but it's not working the way it's supposed to be working, and that'll really show up once I actually have more than an email client and internet browser installed on here.

Unfortunately this can't be fixed remotely.  I have to bring it back to the store which is ordinarily no problem but I'm not walking with a broken ankle so I have to get into the logistical nightmare that is my family.

The short version of what happened is that they pretended the fast drive didn't exist and so put the stuff that needs to go fast on the slow drive.


I haven't made ficition in I don't even know how long, and that seriously makes me want to cry.  Well, it makes some part of me want to cry because I can feel my body being all "I should cry now" but the truth is that it seldom succeeds when it attempts that and I doubt it will this time.


I think my stitches itch but I don't know for sure because I've had two glimpses of my foot (other than the toes, which stick out) in the past three and a half weeks.  I can't even confirm for sure where the stitches are.


I feel like existing is exhausting and I should just lay down and let darkness take me.


Thursday isn't just when I'll meet with the foot surgeon and get orders going forward which will let me know if I'm still a dual citizen of foot elevation land and no hormone land.

It's also when a brief but important period will start during which I'll have someone, with working feet, helping me do the whole "eat, drink, stay alive" thing.  That'll, hopefully, be a welcome change.


I feel like I don't matter anymore.  I'm a storyteller, if I've lost the ability to tell stories (and I have, hopefully only temporarily) what's left?


I'm sure I'm forgetting stuff.

Friday, March 10, 2017

Video Game Proposal: The Camera Person

Picture any game that mixes archaeology (er . . . looting) with vast quantities of gunfire.

Incredible finds, wonderful views, lost civilization, bad guys with Kalashnikovs, explosions, epic set pieces, the stuff good Indiana Jones movies are made of except a more modern setting so if the bad guys are Nazis they're neo-Nazis, so on, so forth.

Now imagine that the character the player controls isn't the action hero but a sidekick with a hand held (presumably flip out) video camera.

The game is about not dying, sure, but most of the killing is done by player character's friend/girlfriend/associate/whatever.  I wasn't initially thinking of the possibility of romantic involvement, but such a game would work great if you were controlling a slightly more violence-capable Sam traveling with her girlfriend Lara Croft as Lara uncovered, and Sam recorded, secrets that had long been hidden from the world.

Anyway, with the action hero doing most of the work on the violence side, your job in the game is to:
  1. Not get dead
  2. Record everything.  Did the bad guys just blow up an ancient tomb?  Get that.  Did they shoot your plane from the sky?  Get the shot.  Did action hero just set up a clever ambush with traps and stuff: make sure you're filming.
  3. Manage the amount of battery and storage space so you don't miss something important because you filmed three hours of filler. (Probably have an option to turn this off in the difficulty settings.)
Running jumping climbing trees, taking a Pulitzer worthy photo while your up there.  (It doesn't all need to be on a video camera, there can be a still camera as well.)

For those who like puns, it would still be a shooter, just not shooting with guns.

I'm not entirely sure why the idea interests me, but it does.  You don't need to beat the bad guys, someone else will do that for you, you just need to get in a position to get the perfect shot of them doing it.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

This is not the world I asked for

I want to live in a world where my dad didn't see me falling to the ground as an excuse to vent his frustrations (which weren't even directed at me) by gaslighting me and then yelling (really, really loudly) at me when I didn't go along with his lies about what happened, just like he did when I was little.

I want to live in a world where that didn't ruin my mother's already strained birthday celebration.

I want to live in a world where the closest thing to bad that happened while I was at my sister's house was her boyfriend and I both being reminded of the fact that we don't have and have never played Kingdom Hearts in spite of both of us really wanting to.  (I swear, when I put it on the wishlist I was convinced the first one, remastered, came out on February 28th.)

I want to live in a world where my dad's response to seeing me spin out of control onto the ground, with a bit of pain involved, is to hope his daughter is ok instead of weaving a tapestry of lies about how his son got there.

I want to live in a world where whatever perverse drive it is that pushes someone to show their dominance over another by replacing the victim's truth with their lies *takes breath* doesn't exist.

I want to live in a world where love, including compassion, trumps petty power games.

I don't.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Facing the zombie apocalypse on crutches, a game proposal

So, last post, it was a couple minutes at most before I found some packages that had been set aside when I was in too much pain to mail and discovered that The Last Guardian and The Last of Us have been given to me by nice people.  Thank you nice people.

That had me going back and striking out a bit of text because I think four settings should be enough that shifting through them will meet my story variety needs, thus things had changed.  (Still could really use delivery food money, advice too --if anyone knows the greater Portland area-- since the Chinese place I know is out of business now.)

Anyway, I started the first The Last game yesterday, and The Last of Us today.

In the opening a girl hurts her foot and can't walk.  Everyone knows what you do in that case: you carry her.  And that's what happened.

I saw myself in her.  A sprained ankle I can force myself to walk on once the initial pain dies down a bit (hurts like all hell, but I can do it), this broken ankle, though, it's different.  The reason I broke my porch was that my left foot grazed it, just barely a touch.  No weight, no force to speak of, and the pain alone dropped me.  I was standing, perfectly well balanced, and then I wasn't.  Sheer force of pain.

So I was thinking that If that happened I'd be utterly useless in the zombie apocalypse.  But then I kept on thinking.  If the zombie apocalypse happened now I'd already have crutches and the pain would be significantly less.  That would make all the difference.  Especially if I weren't as out of shape as I am now.  If I were in peak condition I'd be able to go long distances at speed with a lot of weight on my back.  A backpack is good for inventory, but if you think about it, I could be hop-vaulting away from the infected hordes with a child on my back.

(The child would have to do all the work since I couldn't hold onto them and crutches at the same time, but said work is possible.)

So provided the "I can't stand" injury happened before they stopped handing out crutches, I totally could have been the one carrying the can't-walk girl from the open instead of needing to be carried myself.

And this is how my mind works.  I find myself envisioning a game in which one of the main characters, who is on crutches, is giving the other main character a piggyback ride through the zombie apocalypse.

I wonder if the danger of things that can slide (a piece of paper on a smooth surface could spell your death if your crutch lands on it and you try to put weight on that crutch) would be a gameplay mechanic.

I think about how you'd have to stop to shoot because freeing an arm for the weapon requires not having it on a crutch.  I think about whacking zombies with one crutch while standing on the good leg and the other crutch.

I wonder if the person being carried would handle weapons.

I picture the Boston T (the subway parts) being fortified against zombie incursion and becoming where people live while Boston above ground becomes a massive open world to be crutched through as it decays in that verdant way New England places are consumed by forest if there's no one to mow the lawn.

Of course one must assume that if the player character is using crutches that shouldn't be the only way to get around.  I'm not specifically thinking of the luxury of a wheelchair because I imagine that post-zombie the elevators used for wheelchair access will not be powered.  Not until civilization really starts to rebuild.

I refer, instead, to butt sliding.  Also crawling, depending on the injury.

But sliding is the safest way to go up stairs when you're on crutches, and it's faster than using the crutches to do it unless there's but one step.

But mostly I have this idea of the zombie apocalypse on crutches, because zombie apocalypses seldom wait for a good time.  You usually don't get to go, "Hey, could you wait like six weeks so that I can walk?" and have the zombie apocalypse say, "Yeah, sure, How about earth day?"

Also, can I just say, they go through a museum and don't come out of it with so much as one sword?  Come on people.  At the very least you could have gotten a decent knife and not had to resort to shivs so weak the break after one use.  How do you even get them that weak?  Are they made out of a pane of window-glass?  Cause that's not one of the ingredients used to craft them, but it does seem to describe their durability.

When the apocalypse comes I'm totally looting the cool weapons from the museums.  My muse would be disappointed if I didn't.


A very easy way to make a plot would be if the crutch person were pre-surgery and so they needed to track down a surgeon, an anesthesiologists, other such people, drugs, equipment, so forth, and a sterile location where the surgery could be preformed without becoming zombie nomage.

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Things you can do

Random list of things you can do to help me while I wait six weeks before doctors will let me even attempt walking.
~ money ~

In my last post I mentioned how incredibly useful delivery food, the food in question at that time being pizza, is to me right now.  It comes to me and it doesn't require any preparation.  It's basically the only thing that's stopping my leg from making me go hungry.
Would tossing a little money in your Paypal help keep you in Pizza? (Or Chinese food or whatever else can be delivered in your neck of the woods.)
And the answer is most definitely: "Yes."

(Again there's a donate button in the upper right corner, or you can send me money through your PayPal account using my email: cpw [at] maine [dot] rr [dot] com)

With a lot of things there's lag time because I need to shuffle money through accounts until it eventually reaches the right place, but the paypal account does have a debit card that goes with it which means that I can pay for delivery using the money in the account the moment the money actually shows up in the account.

Delivery is expensive (why I've pretty much never done it before) and can't be done using food money, so if you want to do major short term help, and you have money, that's definitely something you can do to help.

Still on the topic of money, in the longer term I do have my ever-festering debt to slowly pay down.  Mind you, you'd have to tell me (you can include notes with a donation) that it was for that purpose because it's not like I have a separate pizza fund.  All paypal comes goes to the same place.

Last thing on the topic of money is that for the enduring long term, I have a Patreon account to accept monthly payments.  Speaking of, I've got to set up to get my money so far out of there so I can use it to pay bills.  I'm going to need it this month.

~ gifts ~

Not long before all this happened, someone gave me a gift certificate for socks based on them appearing on this list, unfortunately I only got to try on one pair before my left foot became unfit for socks, but they're really nice socks (thanks) and I like them and they're more than I'd ever get myself seeing as how I tend to get cheap stuff for me.

Some of the things on that list don't apply anymore (I finally got mason jars) some never made much sense (do I want a donkey?  Sure.  Can I care for one?  Not a chance in Hell) but some still apply (e.g. strong cups with large volume the better to hydrate myself.)  If you're interested in getting me something, contact me using the email above.

I can add things as well, I have an interest in playing cards and tarot cards, I know that proper runic divination uses sticks, but rune-stones are just cool looking. . . It may become apparent that I have an interest in divination.  Don't believe in it, but the interest is there none the less.

A universal remote, or any that works with my Toshiba TV, would be godsend right now.


There's this list which is about how I'll be spending a lot of my "supine with my leg above my heart" time.  I didn't have a console when I made it, and I put two possibilities on.  I have since cleaned up the list so it only has stuff that goes with the console (PS4) that I now have. (I dumped the rest onto this list on the off chance someone wants to get me a 3DS.)

So here's the deal with that list:

On the one hand, I think I'm good when it comes to filling time.  On the other hand I realized that playing console games the way I play computer games was a mistake.

Basically, I usually alt-tab out a lot and so even though I'm only playing one game what I'm being exposed to is a much more diverse set of stuff.  After playing Gravity Rush most of the way through I realized that I'd limited myself to one story, one setting, one set of characters, and so forth for way to long.  My creativity dried up.

The solution is simple: I need to switch between things instead of playing all the way through before starting another game like I usually would.  The problem is that for all of the gameplay time the games I have provides, there are [added:] nevermind. Just found some mail that had been set aside, probably when I was in pain post-surgery.  I've got four non-Gravity Rush settings now. [/added] only two settings (other than Gravity Rush, which I've kind of over-saturated on.)

So I don't need more games to keep me from cracking under the boredom that woul otherwise come from having to elevate my foot all the time.  But they would help me in taking proper care of my brain.  Filling the well and all that.

~ junk ~

Or obsolete stuff.  For example, if anyone recently got the latest mono-molecular edge GPU and needs a new home for the one they replaced, that's not junk by any stretch, but it would be useful to me.

So the category is more, "Stuff you don't want," but the title comes from the fact that I am interested in certain types of junk.  Sticking with tech for three paragraphs: While computer parts that work will be useful since I'm putting together a desktop for the first time in . . . ever, I also happen to find circuit board aesthetically pleasing.

Circuit board means not just computers, but calculators, and maybe phones.

I have long wanted to play Dr. Frankenstein to tech stuff, so I'd love to get the chance to make two things that don't work into one thing that does.  (And I once had a plan that involved taking a camera from a cell phone that couldn't phone and a lens-zoom assembly from a camera that couldn't camera and . . .)

Leaving tech stuff, I like fixing things in general.  For example, take broken ceramic duck, add thought and superglue, result: a sense of accomplishment and a fixed ceramic duck.  Despite what others think, broken things aren't junk, not really, they're three dimensional jigsaw puzzles.

~ feedback ~

You know how I make posts with fiction and stuff?  When people comment I treasure it an it reassures me that I'm not writing into the void.

I have never closed comments, so no matter how old something is you can say something about it.

I've been thinking about Ash a bit.  (A children's theater on tape rendition of Cinderella was played the morning I was at my sister's.)  That story is kind of rare in that it did get comments.  (Woo!)  Most stories don't seem to.

~ stuff you can't do ~

My dad did my laundry, I am now wearing clean clothes.  There was no way I could possibly get the laundry downstairs to the dryer, so I was kind of dependent on the kindness of others.

If I could just get someone to wash my dishes.

Or find the damned spiral bound notebook (maroon cover if my memory is to be trusted) that has my notes on everything in it.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

post surgery ankle update

(Content note: I'm going to talk about the surgery and other medical things.)

So I mentioned how going off hormones to reduce risk of blodclot has fucked over my mood, right?

Well, that combined with other things kind of had me fairly messed up by the time surgery came around.  I'd barely slept, I was apparently dehydrated, and it had been a lot longer since I'd had a good meal than the required fasting period.

The surgery was actually a day earlier than expected because . . . Jasper?  So on Thursday morning I got dropped of at the hospital, early in the afternoon they had me get ready for surgery, and it was into the night before I got out.

You sleep through it, but waking up involves reconnecting with your body, which involves a lot of pain.  They have, after all, cut into you, fucked with your bones, and made internally vulnerable to attacks from Magneto.

To keep you from accidentally being killed off by the anesthesia they shove a tube down your throat.  My throat was already out of sorts because I'd recovered from being sick in some way or other but, as often happens to me, the cough had lingered.  My voice was kind of gravelly going in.  It was a photo-realistic depiction of gravel coming out. It was also dry beyond belief.

I did manage to get some food and drink before going to "bed" on a couch-like-thing at my sister's house.  (The nurses wouldn't let me go home, because I'd be the only human type person there.)  I didn't sleep.  I'd run out of sleep med in the lead up to the surgery.  Not like I could walk over and get it, maybe when I was stronger and lighter but when you're on the fatter and weaker side of things crutches are downright exhausting.  (I've never really been on the fat and strong or light and weak sides.)

As for getting someone to go and get it for me, phone calls are really hard and my mood being thrown out of whack really messed up any . . . I wouldn't even call them "attempts".  Plans I guess.  It messed up any plans to do that.

I managed to get the sleeping medication picked up for me when I was driven home

That was Friday, which was spent in a lot of pain until I realized that much of the pain wasn't directly caused by the surgery.  I was elevating too much and cutting off circulation to my left foot, and to a lesser extent the rest of the leg on the foot-side of the knee, downright dangerously.

The majority of the pain was because my leg was acting like it was freezing, and I somehow didn't notice that because it had shot straight passed the point where it could feel cold.  In fact, the parts in pain were the only parts that could feel anything, the rest was numb.  My circulation would appear to suck.  At least the way in which it sucks isn't indicative of a blood clot.

Any progress made at this time was, almost certainly, undone by the necessary returning of warmth and circulation to my leg.  Ideally you're supposed to keep things like that away from heat as it makes swelling worse, but oh my fucking god did my leg need to be warmed by the time I realized what was going on.

Then I slept.  One night's sleep isn't enough to get things fixed, and so yesterday is kind of hazy, and it was hazy at the time.

I ordered pizza.  It's way too expensive and I can't use food money to pay for a delivery, but right now I need food that has minimal preparation.  Unfortunately it can't last for long.  Even if I have something else for breakfast, which I didn't today, two large pizzas at two pieces a meal only lasts for four days.

Today I woke up and . . . have basically no idea what happened next.  It didn't stick.  Around noon I woke up again, but in a different place.  That I slept in daylight is indicative of just how little sleep I had leading up to this.

When I sleep at Lonespark's it involves pulling the shade, closing the door, and putting something over the alarm clock because the glow from the clock will keep me up.  Since limited mobility has forced me to abandon my usual sleeping spot, I've been laying something over my eyes while I get to sleep.  Once I am asleep it's easier to stay that way than it was to get that way, so the fact that the makeshift blindfold always falls off isn't too much of a problem.  (Also I don't have a bed to roll around on in new-location and restricting movement makes a blindfold less problematic.)

But to fall back asleep, without even trying, in a room with two unblinded windows connecting me to the sunny outside world, that's kind of absolute proof that I'd really fucked up the whole sleep thing before two nights ago.

And now, here we are.  The story reached the present.

I'm elevating my foot more cautiously, now that I'm in the habit of taking the post operation pain-med (and remembering that it has to be used in combination with acetaminophen) the actual surgery related pain is under control, and I'm still limited in what I can do by the need to elevate my ankle as much as possible without doing the whole "no circulation to my left leg" thing.

It's kind of hard to believe the surgery was just three days ago and I only got home two days ago, it feels like forever,

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

We're still friends, right?

(To avoid meta stuff involving my health and why you're getting rough unpolished work, skip to the first break.)

I don't think I mentioned this before, it would be easy to check but easy things are kind of the problem, but some things did come from meeting the orthopedic surgeon beyond, "Wow, swelling hasn't gone down enough, let's push back surgery a week (or more.)"

One of them is that I was told to get off my hormones to reduce the risks.  That's kind of fucked over my mood, and I'll be happy when I can be back on them.  Hence not having anything to post.  It's not the same as going off antidepressants, but it's not something you want happening to you.

I'm not exactly happy with the fact that I left the post on my ankle as the top thing through the end of February, though.  Tried writing something new.  No luck.  Tried looking at old unfnished posts and finishing.  Nothing there either.

So, here, have a draft of a fragment.

The last time I did anything to this is apparently 12/13/16, so blogger tells me.  Pity it doesn't record when when you started a post.  Anyway, it was around that time that I was working with Mishap (one, two, three) and so was in "thieving villains" state of mind.

* * *

When I wrote this I didn't come up with any names, I labeled them with letters.  This was another five person hero team, but one member left because of a conflict of interest (she fell in love with a thief) here's the what I electronically jotted to keep track of who said what and what role they were playing.

Old hero team:
L - leader
Th - one who turned thief
F - Friend
U - I couldn't think of a good word so urchin
T - Timid

G - Girlfriend, the original thief

Story begins:

* * *

Th "How did you expect me to earn a living?"

L "You turned your back on justice."

Th "Justice would be stealing the amulet and giving it back to the people whose ancestors made it, I don't seem to recall us ever doing that.  British archaeologists stole it the first time, we're just stealing it a second time."

G "If it's not going to be with the people who deserve it, why shouldn't we make money off of the eventual disposition of the item?"

Th "We have to eat."

L "There are honest ways to--"

Th "We're in a Museum, everything in here was looted, stolen, or otherwise taken without permission."

U "There is an entire wing devoted to the stuff robbed from graves, including some of the bodies themselves."

L "We are not having this conversation."

U "Sorry."

L "[Th] even after you left I'd hoped that you'd stay the course, maybe even make [G] honest.  I'm sorry --disappointed-- that you've become a common criminal."

G "We are anything but common."

Th "I'm disappointed that you're acting like I'm cackling while plotting to take over the world.  I knew I might have to fight for a new life, and I'm not going to back down just because it's you guys.  I could do without the whole judgmental self-righteousness though."

L "Fine.  We've talked enough."

Th *to F* "We're still friends, right?"

F "Of course we are, but that doesn't mean I'm going to step aside and let you get away."

*Th nods and smiles*

L *to F* "I can't--"

U "I can count the number of friends I have on one hand, you can't seriously think I'd turn my back on one because of a minor shift in her moral paradigm."

L *to U* "She's a criminal now!"

U "Not everyone has free food and lodging handed to them by the city, remind me to tell you some of the things I had to do before I--"

L "She betrayed us!"

T *to Th* "I'd like to think we're still friends, but that kind of depends on how much you hurt me in the coming fight, I think."

G "We're thieves, not killers.  I'm sure you'll be fine."