It's the Bi Flag 6/9 '21
I've been posting a lot of these for Pride Month over on hellsite and other venues.
Portrait and fine-art photographer. Radical programmer. Culture activist. Passionate & opinionated, yet kindly. Mind the froth.
I've been posting a lot of these for Pride Month over on hellsite and other venues.
The covid response in Ontario is nearly as much of a cluster-fuck as if they were intentionally trying to kill people. For all I know, they are, but they are not as good at it as I'd expect competent mass-murderers to be. So, it's probably not malice, just the standard intentional incompetence of big-c Conservative/Republicans trying to ruin faith in government.
Anyway, the vax rollout has been just a god damn circus with a tidal wave of clown cars. Multiple appointment systems, different vaxxines with different providers, different eligibility criteria, changing literally by the day.
I'd signed up to be notified when appointments were available for the "less desirable" AZ vax at my local pharmacies, but since these computer-based systems can't make instantaneous appointments when people who are supposed to be there simply don't show up, and given that a lot of low-information people are simply refusing their opportunities to get the AZ poke, I figured I'd just walk over to a pharmacy and just camp for a while and if someone didn't show up I could take their shot instead.
This turned out to be a winning strategy; in fact for the half hour I was at the pharmacy filling out forms and post-poke waiting to see if I had an allergic reaction, no one else came in for vax at all, which is appalling.
People's risk-assessment for the blood clots a few folks people have got from AZ is really off-kilter. Undoubtedly due to the relentless hunger for media to have something, anything to talk about. Oh noes, danger! Danger!
The way I saw someone on the twitters talk about it, a Black man is 1000x more likely to be killed by a cop than anyone is of getting a blood clot from AZ, but I don't see them pulling cops off the streets.
I WISH THEY WOULD THOUGH.
Anyway, I was not expecting to get poked anytime soon but, there we go!
It should be obvious that when an enormous weight is lifted from your shoulders, your natural reaction is to want to sleep for a long time. The body, so used to having that extra hit of cortisol and adrenaline, now doing with less, realizes that shit comes with a cost.
Making goodies for a local friends holiday treat swap; my choice is usually fudge. (Real fudge, the boiled sugar kind.) The ingredients are cheap, it doesn't require making a lot of dirty dishes or heating up the oven. There's almost infinite variety of flavours. You can scale the recipe up and down trivially. And people frigging love it.
What's new this time is that we don't have a cooktop. (I may have mentioned this before.) Not even a hot plate. What we do have is an Instant Pot. Turns out the IP's sauté function turns the thing into a versatile stovetop pot simulant. There are three temperature settings more or less corresponding to low, medium and high heat on a modest burner. The pot insert is heavy so even with the bang-bang thermostatic control, there's good thermal inertia for the ingredients. Anyway, so, yeah, making fudge with an IP. It's a thing.
First batch was a buttercream. 3c sugar, 1 cup 10% cream, 1/2c butterscotch ice cream, 1tbs butter, pinch of salt.
Second batch was a lactose-free maple. 3c sugar, 1/4c dark-ass maple syrup, 1c almond milk, 1tbs butter, tsp corn syrup, 1/2tsp maple flavour, pinch of salt.
Tonight I'll be making chocolate, which will probably be something like 2c sugar, 1c semisweet chocolate chips, 1/4 cocoa, 1c cream, and a pinch of salt, toss in some vanilla once it's cooled.
And tomorrow it'll be Saskatoonberry cream, most likely 2.5c sugar, 1c Saskberry jam blended with 1c cream, and a pinch of salt.
How I fudge with an Instant Pot:
Scraping out the bits from the instant pot is cook's privilege, though of course you can assign the chore to anyone you'd like to have a sugar rush.
We get a farm food box every Saturday. It's a good price for what's in it, and also supports a non-profit that gives food to folks who can't pay for it. So that's cool. Anyway, sometimes we get a bunch of cilantro, so I make pesto. Here's the recipe!
Remember don't lick the sharp thing.
Everyone's got their own recipe I guess.
There are barely two months left before the American election is stolen. The only way for the people to keep the republic from descending into fascism is a mass general strike. And don't bloody wait. Do it now. There's no more time to sit on the sidelines. You have to do it, and hold it, until they crack, and impeach the fucker before the election. Not after.
Every day I make some art. Sometimes I hate it, or just don't care about it. Sometimes it's really good. I find it somewhat disturbing how much I get out of other people liking my art. And also disturbing that I find it disturbing. Why shouldn't I feel good when my efforts are validated by others? We are social animals; acceptance by the tribe is an essential brain nutrient.
I really like acting. I haven't been doing it since I moved to Toronto. But I am reminded because acting on stage gives that kind of instant acceptance/validation. I've done a little work on camera but since I honestly can't stand to see video of myself (or hear recordings of my voice) it doesn't mean much to the wee little narcissist in me. If I was to take up acting again I'd have to find those few shows where the director isn't too particular about having every line delivered every time with the exact same words.
Choir is really nice but like any kind of live performance, extremely not recommended until there's a vaccine for the pandemic.
I'm specifically not freaking out about how it's basically September.
I guess that's it for now.
I'm still making the plotter art. I post it elsewhere and haven't the energy to echo it here (and those of you who see it elsewhere shouldn't have to put up with that).
Also, I told Instagram to go shit on a post and slip, partly because it's incredibly artist-hostile by design, but mostly because it's part of Facebook, which is a major player in the white-supremacist internet complex.
If you'd like to get regular doses of my art, you can follow me on Twitter at @PhotoPuck, except there you also have to deal with my political rants and random garbar, or on Tumblr at plotterprints.tumblr.com, or on Mastodon at @firstname.lastname@example.org. I probably should mention the online store also at plotterprints.square.site.
I'm at least a hundred prints behind on posting. I usually make like 6-10 a day but only post 2. I'm not sure what to do about that. I think it's fun to see the art evolve, but also some of my recent stuff is so much better.
I mean that's all I do, pretty much. I make art, I exercise, I perform basic bodily functions, I socialize online with people here or there, and sometimes go outside to run errands. We're still under a state of emergency here.
Everything is much as before, modulo brightness out of the sky. These next two months are the brightest of the year and we're not spending much time outside still. But it's getting warmer, finally, it seems like the miserable rains and sudden polar vortexes are done.
I keep making art. I don't know how to not make art. It would be nice to sell some but that's even harder now. I post things regularly on my instagram PhotoPuck as well as on my purpose-made tumblr plotterprints.tumblr.com.
I hate Instagram with a fiery passion. As soon as they think you want to try to sell something on their platform you get shadowbanned from all but the most dedicated feed scrollers. Because they want you to convert to a commercial account and buy advertising. And I made the mistake of mentioning selling art a couple weeks ago so pretty much no one sees my shit anymore.
I cooked the other half of the whole beef round we bought a few weeks ago; it was in the freezer. Thawed it in the fridge overnight, sliced it 1cm thick across the grain, threw it in the IP, sprinkled Montreal steak seasoning on it and added a cup of water and pressure cooked it for 2.5 hours. Broke the meat up into chunks with tongs and stored them in the icebox, then turned the remaining liquid into beef and rice soup, which I am eating now.
Health is okay. Exercise continues lackadaisically. I probably wouldn't do shit if my Apple watch wasn't guilting me into doing 30 minutes a day. Buying it last September was clearly not a frivolity; it's keeping me much healthier. Recommended.
Mostly I use resistance straps on a three day legs, core, arms cycle. Sometimes I'll jog in place for 30 minutes instead or additionally, while watching nature documentaries on Netflix with the sound off.
I guess that's about it.
We're continuing. Health maintains. Employment endures. We're managing the close quarters. Getting along well, being extra mindful of impacts we have on each other. The cats have adapted. There's a lot of things missing from life right now but we do recognize our good fortune and privilege to have the only things we're grumping about be the lack of a gym, in-person social encounters, and unfettered access to the amazing city that surrounds us.