Entry tags:
Sigh
Well...another day, another dollar...well more than that...but anyhow.
The commute to and from work was per usual an obstacle course in varying ways. This morning a stone guy was sprawled on the steps to the train platform. I kicked his shoulder when he was about to lie his head down in the only path past him. And said "move". I wish I stuck around and watched the Long Islanders trample him on their way up and out of the train station, while tapping away on their cell phones.
On the way home, a guy had what amounted to a minature motorcycle on the train. I was amazed he got it on the train - those things are light.
And less and less folks are wearing masks. I have a new cubicle aisle mate, Gerald from Stores, who doesn't wear one. Big bald with tattoos running up and down his arms, blue and black - one looked like waves. And a Toby Kieth concert sweatshirt. The Sweatshirt was kind of cool looking, but I've no clue who Toby Kieth is - do I want to know? The guy is really nice. (I've learned to stay away from politics at work. Also I informed him that I'd had COVID and I don't mind wearing the KN95 mask (actually I find it comfortable - and I bought it - and it keeps out allergians). Plus I feel less anxious. (I did feel anxious when he came a bit too close for comfort into my cubicle without a mask.))
Work requires a lot of patience and repetition...countless repetition. And not just with the non-mask wearers (which is about 85% of the workforce, and across genders, ages, ethncities, basically everybody, but ...beleaguered few, the band of buggered..I think that's the Shakespearean Henry the V line?)
Right now? I'd like to strangle the estimating department. So would my management.
***
Stuff about Gun Violence in America...
* Twitter Thread posted by a journalist at the scene of the shooting, outside the school in Texas while it was taking place...
I didn't cry, until I got to this post, and then I had to stop, because I was at work and I couldn't afford to burst into tears at my desk. NSFW.
Niki Griswold
![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nikigriswold
I’m reporting in #Uvalde TX at the civic center which is being used as a reunification site for families impacted by the mass shooting at Robb Elementary. I spoke to one man who says he’s been waiting for news about his niece for hours. Heart is so heavy.statesman
·
May 24
It’s getting dark and there are still plenty of families waiting for any news about their children
Image
Niki Griswold
nikigriswold
·
May 24
Families I’ve spoken to say that authorities have asked them to provide DNA samples to help with the identification of victims.
Niki Griswold
nikigriswold
·
23h
A family has erupted into sobs outside the civic center
Niki Griswold
nikigriswold
The agonized screams of family members are audible from the parking lot
10:40 PM · May 24, 2022 from Uvalde, TX·Twitter for iPhone
They posted pictures of the victims on Twitter, and people were tweeting pictures of their sisters and nieces and kid who were killed.
* Ending America's Love Affair with Guns - my wordpress post from 2018, which still rings true today.
* from my novel, Doing Time on Planet Earth
Below is a snippet from my novel Doing Time on Planet Earth that depicts some of my research on the matter:
Caddy looked down at the gun and back at him. She shifted her stance and turned the gun back on herself. “What if I shot myself?”
He was silent. Studying her. And she wondered how long he’d been there, watching, before he spoke up. A while, she guessed. She looked down at the gun in her hands, thinking there really wasn’t anything he could do to stop her. She had the gun. And it was pointed directly at her chest.
“Not sure I’d do that if I were you.”
“Why? Don’t tell me it won’t kill me.”
“Wasn’t going to. Will kill you. But you won’t like it.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, knocked one out, lit it and puffed. “Lots of things will kill you though.” He studied the cigarette in his hand. “According to some nits, this will.” He glanced back at her. “The trick is finding the most pleasant method, unless of course you happen to like pain.”
“Pain?”
“Yep, pain. Gunshot wound to the chest, or actually gut from how you’re holding it, wicked painful. Slow too. Not instant. All your organs fall into your stomach acid and it eats away at them bit by bit. Take’s a few hours, maybe more. Some poor slobs actually make it all the way to the emergency room first, before they kick it.”
“Fine.” She lifted the gun to her head. “How about I just blow my brains out, no pain there. Instant death.”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Well,” he tapped the center of his forehead, “you got to aim straight to get the right place, aim wrong you just give yourself chronic brain damage. You’re alive, but you ain’t happy, and worse yet, you’ve lost the ability to end things.”
She moved the gun to her mouth.
“Shoving it in your mouth won’t work either, just make a bloody mess. Knew a bloke once who did that and he just blew out the side of his jaw. Wicked miserable. Also disfigured.”
“What would you suggest then?”
“Throw the piece in the river? No? Right, then.” He strode over to her. She took a step back. “Hey, not going hurt you.” He opened his hands in a gesture she took to be surrender. “You the one with the piece, not me, eh?” She nodded and let him come close. Close enough that she could smell the musky scent of his cologne, which mingled with the leather and smoke. His eyes were dark in his face, too dark to make out the color even at this distance. Nose to nose. She shivered backing up. “Hey, no worries. Not going to molest you. Just going show you something.”
She held herself still, one of his hands hovered over her left breast, while his other gripped the gun.
“Now there are a couple of ways you could do it . You could,” he said, tugging at the gun, but she held tight to it, so all he managed was to get her hand to follow his, “hold it over your heart. Shoot twice, and bam, dead. Not instant. Packs a wallop though, feels a bit like someone punching you hard in the breast, hard enough you’d feel as if you’d fallen into that wooden planking below us. But not instant. Gunshots to the heart aren’t instant death – and they are wicked painful. About two, three minutes, feeling your lungs fill up with blood. Suffocating on it. Still, effective.”
* Gun Violence Archive
And..
***
I appear to be reading a gothic romance, with time travel and creepy ghosts. I like ghost stories. Always have. I collected ghost stories in undergrad as part of a cultural anthropology minor. I think sometimes that I'm a frustrated folklorist - more that than anything else. I love listening to and reading stories. I like stories - they tell me more about the world and people than anything else. And I particularly love ghost stories.
Did the same thing in Wales, got a grant, and wandered about Wales collecting ghost stories, myths, fairy stories, folk tales, etc. I still have the transcriptions somewhere or other.
I read a lot of ghost stories and horror novels as a child, young adult, and in my twenties. I tend to binge on books. Also am known to read more than one thing at a time. Once I figured out how to read - I devoured books. Although there are moments in which I can't seem to read at all.
Reading and writing are my two favorite past times. I also adore letter writing - which is why Dream Width works so well for me - it's kind of similar. I'm basically sharing correspondence instantly with people. It's quicker than letters, takes up less space, can reach more people, and more permanent, also editable.
Anyhow, I think I may hunt down more ghost stories and gothic romances, I appear to be in the mood for both at the moment.
The commute to and from work was per usual an obstacle course in varying ways. This morning a stone guy was sprawled on the steps to the train platform. I kicked his shoulder when he was about to lie his head down in the only path past him. And said "move". I wish I stuck around and watched the Long Islanders trample him on their way up and out of the train station, while tapping away on their cell phones.
On the way home, a guy had what amounted to a minature motorcycle on the train. I was amazed he got it on the train - those things are light.
And less and less folks are wearing masks. I have a new cubicle aisle mate, Gerald from Stores, who doesn't wear one. Big bald with tattoos running up and down his arms, blue and black - one looked like waves. And a Toby Kieth concert sweatshirt. The Sweatshirt was kind of cool looking, but I've no clue who Toby Kieth is - do I want to know? The guy is really nice. (I've learned to stay away from politics at work. Also I informed him that I'd had COVID and I don't mind wearing the KN95 mask (actually I find it comfortable - and I bought it - and it keeps out allergians). Plus I feel less anxious. (I did feel anxious when he came a bit too close for comfort into my cubicle without a mask.))
Work requires a lot of patience and repetition...countless repetition. And not just with the non-mask wearers (which is about 85% of the workforce, and across genders, ages, ethncities, basically everybody, but ...beleaguered few, the band of buggered..I think that's the Shakespearean Henry the V line?)
Right now? I'd like to strangle the estimating department. So would my management.
***
Stuff about Gun Violence in America...
* Twitter Thread posted by a journalist at the scene of the shooting, outside the school in Texas while it was taking place...
I didn't cry, until I got to this post, and then I had to stop, because I was at work and I couldn't afford to burst into tears at my desk. NSFW.
Niki Griswold
nikigriswoldI’m reporting in #Uvalde TX at the civic center which is being used as a reunification site for families impacted by the mass shooting at Robb Elementary. I spoke to one man who says he’s been waiting for news about his niece for hours. Heart is so heavy.
statesman·
May 24
It’s getting dark and there are still plenty of families waiting for any news about their children
Image
Niki Griswold
nikigriswold·
May 24
Families I’ve spoken to say that authorities have asked them to provide DNA samples to help with the identification of victims.
Niki Griswold
nikigriswold·
23h
A family has erupted into sobs outside the civic center
Niki Griswold
nikigriswoldThe agonized screams of family members are audible from the parking lot
10:40 PM · May 24, 2022 from Uvalde, TX·Twitter for iPhone
They posted pictures of the victims on Twitter, and people were tweeting pictures of their sisters and nieces and kid who were killed.
* Ending America's Love Affair with Guns - my wordpress post from 2018, which still rings true today.
* from my novel, Doing Time on Planet Earth
Below is a snippet from my novel Doing Time on Planet Earth that depicts some of my research on the matter:
Caddy looked down at the gun and back at him. She shifted her stance and turned the gun back on herself. “What if I shot myself?”
He was silent. Studying her. And she wondered how long he’d been there, watching, before he spoke up. A while, she guessed. She looked down at the gun in her hands, thinking there really wasn’t anything he could do to stop her. She had the gun. And it was pointed directly at her chest.
“Not sure I’d do that if I were you.”
“Why? Don’t tell me it won’t kill me.”
“Wasn’t going to. Will kill you. But you won’t like it.” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, knocked one out, lit it and puffed. “Lots of things will kill you though.” He studied the cigarette in his hand. “According to some nits, this will.” He glanced back at her. “The trick is finding the most pleasant method, unless of course you happen to like pain.”
“Pain?”
“Yep, pain. Gunshot wound to the chest, or actually gut from how you’re holding it, wicked painful. Slow too. Not instant. All your organs fall into your stomach acid and it eats away at them bit by bit. Take’s a few hours, maybe more. Some poor slobs actually make it all the way to the emergency room first, before they kick it.”
“Fine.” She lifted the gun to her head. “How about I just blow my brains out, no pain there. Instant death.”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Well,” he tapped the center of his forehead, “you got to aim straight to get the right place, aim wrong you just give yourself chronic brain damage. You’re alive, but you ain’t happy, and worse yet, you’ve lost the ability to end things.”
She moved the gun to her mouth.
“Shoving it in your mouth won’t work either, just make a bloody mess. Knew a bloke once who did that and he just blew out the side of his jaw. Wicked miserable. Also disfigured.”
“What would you suggest then?”
“Throw the piece in the river? No? Right, then.” He strode over to her. She took a step back. “Hey, not going hurt you.” He opened his hands in a gesture she took to be surrender. “You the one with the piece, not me, eh?” She nodded and let him come close. Close enough that she could smell the musky scent of his cologne, which mingled with the leather and smoke. His eyes were dark in his face, too dark to make out the color even at this distance. Nose to nose. She shivered backing up. “Hey, no worries. Not going to molest you. Just going show you something.”
She held herself still, one of his hands hovered over her left breast, while his other gripped the gun.
“Now there are a couple of ways you could do it . You could,” he said, tugging at the gun, but she held tight to it, so all he managed was to get her hand to follow his, “hold it over your heart. Shoot twice, and bam, dead. Not instant. Packs a wallop though, feels a bit like someone punching you hard in the breast, hard enough you’d feel as if you’d fallen into that wooden planking below us. But not instant. Gunshots to the heart aren’t instant death – and they are wicked painful. About two, three minutes, feeling your lungs fill up with blood. Suffocating on it. Still, effective.”
* Gun Violence Archive
And..
***
I appear to be reading a gothic romance, with time travel and creepy ghosts. I like ghost stories. Always have. I collected ghost stories in undergrad as part of a cultural anthropology minor. I think sometimes that I'm a frustrated folklorist - more that than anything else. I love listening to and reading stories. I like stories - they tell me more about the world and people than anything else. And I particularly love ghost stories.
Did the same thing in Wales, got a grant, and wandered about Wales collecting ghost stories, myths, fairy stories, folk tales, etc. I still have the transcriptions somewhere or other.
I read a lot of ghost stories and horror novels as a child, young adult, and in my twenties. I tend to binge on books. Also am known to read more than one thing at a time. Once I figured out how to read - I devoured books. Although there are moments in which I can't seem to read at all.
Reading and writing are my two favorite past times. I also adore letter writing - which is why Dream Width works so well for me - it's kind of similar. I'm basically sharing correspondence instantly with people. It's quicker than letters, takes up less space, can reach more people, and more permanent, also editable.
Anyhow, I think I may hunt down more ghost stories and gothic romances, I appear to be in the mood for both at the moment.