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Posts Tagged ‘blogging’

I use Twitter for two main purposes:  promoting my writing and collecting news stories for my writing.  Because I’ve discovered that the latter task is made far more difficult if there’s too much traffic in my timeline, I never follow more than 200 people at a time and I don’t do “courtesy following”, and I often mute retweets from people I follow if they retweet a lot of stuff I’m not interested in (including porn).  Furthermore, my Direct Messages are not open to people I don’t follow; far too many time-wasters think its OK to flood a sex worker’s DMs with “hi”, “avail?”, dick pics and all the other idiotic garbage they try in text messaging.  That means if a person finds me on Twitter and wants to interact with me, the only way to do so is by replying to one of my tweets or starting a new one with my handle in it so it will show in my notifications.  Since I like being accessible to my fans, I watch my notifications pretty carefully, but of course any fool, sophist or troll can address me that way just as easily as my fans can; what this means is that if some prohibitionist, cop or other moron with a big following decides to attack me, his or her mindless minions will follow and clog up my notifications.  This jams up my Twitter and makes it difficult to see worthwhile responses, just as a wanted letter can get lost in a mailbox crammed with junk mail; furthermore, my time is valuable and I have exactly zero patience for ninnies and cretins trying to lay claim on it without paying me.  And that, my friends, is the reason for my legendary hair-trigger muting:  decent, sensible people can interact with me for years without once tempting me to mute them, but prohibitionists, sophists, trolls, partisans and bootlickers can’t usually tweet me twice without being banished to the outer darkness where they can shout into their own arseholes all day long without the slightest chance of annoying me.

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If you don’t follow me on Twitter, here’s a sample of recent tweets you missed out on:

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Any week which includes a Who night with Lorelei is a good week, but last week was good in other ways as well.  It started early Monday morning with a lecture (via video link) to an anthropology class at the University of Michigan, then continued Tuesday with one of my regular beauty treatments and a lovely evening with Lorelei (which beside Doctor Who also included the last two episodes of Good Omens).  I had a productive week of both remunerative work and writing (after editing my video lecture for Renegade University last week), and I even got two lovely presents:  the seventh season of Bewitched from Chekhov, and a Stornoway black pudding all the way from Scotland via Brooke Magnanti!  I like regular black pudding, but the Stornoway variety is without peer and at the time of this writing I’m still savoring the memory of the flavor from dinner a few hours ago; I’m going to take what’s left of this one out to Sunset on Thursday to share with Grace for Lammas.  Anyhow, that’s all I have to say for now; the selfie is simply one I took last Thursday and thought my hair looked extra-nice.

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Back Issue #73

The most heroic actions are those which are performed only because they are right, and not for glory.  –  “Whore Madonnas

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Diary #472

Last week was relatively quiet, which is probably for the best because my seasonal anxiety is very high right now.  My time-sense is rather off because of the extra sunlight, so sometimes my brain thinks it’s much earlier than it actually is.  Luckily, cannabis edibles kinda reset that by making me relax, and even though I felt listless all week I actually had a fairly productive week.  I got some projects out of the way, did a bit of planning for Sunset, presented The War on Whores at a Pride event in Tacoma, had dinner with Kaytlin Bailey (who was in town for a few days), and edited my lecture on the politics of sex work for Thaddeus Russell’s Renegade University.  Actually, I haven’t done that last yet at the time of this writing, but I promised to work on it today, so I’m saying it here in hopes it will push me to actually do it.  Here’s hoping!  And if I’m really ambitious, maybe I’ll even manage to get my flights for Woodhull scheduled this week.

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I always enjoy the time I spend at Sunset, especially when it’s mostly doing nothing.  This time, besides just relaxing and eating and drinking and getting stoned and actually staying basically on track with my writing, I helped Grace to scope out what’s going on under my floor.  After moving the bathroom linen closet (which is not built-in) we drilled some test holes in the floor beneath it, and once we had a space large enough to admit a certain dainty white hand I was able to feel around to ensure we wouldn’t drill into a pipe, wire or other hidden obstacle.  We soon had a hatch large enough for me to slither through and with the help of a cellphone camera Grace was able to analyze the problem.  From what we can tell, the original house (which was built in 1927) had only three rooms: parlor, bedroom and kitchen.  The plumbing was probably outdoor, not unusual in rural parts of the US prior to the Great Depression.  Then in the early ’50s or thereabouts, the owners added an upstairs bedroom and two plumbed rooms to the east of the kitchen, a bathroom and a laundry room.  But they did not allow for the weight of those added structures, and the supports were placed several inches east of the load-bearing wall instead of directly beneath it, with the result that for the past 6 or 7 decades the joists supporting the east wall have slowly cracked and several have broken loose.  So now we need to redo the plumbing so we can cut out the old pipes to make an adequate crawlspace under the house (the current one would be barely adequate for a leprechaun) in order to install footings and an I-beam to properly distribute and support the weight of the eastern portion of the house after jacking it back into level (it has dropped about two inches, which doesn’t sound like much but is noticeable when crossing the floor above).  I’ve already bought the new pipe and tools, and Grace started the work yesterday.  Once the new plumbing is in we can assess the next step, and though it’s going to be a lot of (dirty, difficult, & expensive) work it’ll be nice to know that my country place is on a solid foundation again whenever I’m sitting around watching animals grazing in my yard.

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I can always be counted on to persevere as long as it is humanly possible to do so, and then just a bit longer.  –  “Eighth Anniversary

As I wrote one year ago today, “There are quite a few older blogs, but I daresay not many bigger ones; despite travels, travails and troubles, I’ve somehow managed to produce a post every single day since July 10th, 2010.  That’s [well over] 3000 of them now, and that isn’t even counting the booksessays for other publicationsaudio and video interviews, and speeches I’ve given in public (not to mention the innumerable unrecorded rants to which I’ve subjected my admiring clients and long-suffering friends, the latter not always while entirely sober).”  On top of all that, I now have my own documentary (which you should watch if you haven’t already).  I’ve reached the point where I summarize that as “for the past decade”, and given the incredible density of posts I think that’s acceptable shorthand; in fact, those who follow this blog closely have probably noticed that I’m already shifting toward looking back at essays from ten years back rather than a mere three (expect a new feature in January).  I’ve sometimes said that I’m not entirely sure how I’ve managed to continue for this long, but that’s a self-effacing lie rooted in my Southern Belle upbringing.  In reality, I know exactly how I’ve done it:  it’s a formula consisting of personality force, righteous indignation, stubbornness, anger, and OCD, in roughly equal proportion.  And though (like most people) I’m not entirely sure how much longer I have in this incarnation, I have no plans to stop fighting this war until there is no breath left in me.  And truth be told, I’m not even sure I could stop even if I wanted to.

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