March 12th, 2006

new chi

my feral girlfriend (said Spooky)

The insomnia continues. I got to sleep about 3 a.m. and woke about 7:30 a.m., and right now I'm just shy of delirious. I sat here at my desk watching the sun rise above the roof of the house next door, burning away the morning clouds. I do love morning, actually (though I'm not a "morning person"), but I'd prefer to see it after having slept first. After the Great Detox of February, I do strongly desire not to return to pills in order to get more than four or five hours sleep a night. Valerian has never worked well for me, and kava kava is too risky where the liver's concerned. And my insomnia laughs at mere chamomile and warm milk and hot baths and dren like that. So...I don't know. We shall see. Perhaps it's time to rearrange the bedroom furniture.

I have really got to devote a day or two to restoring my iPod, getting everything that was lost in the crash back. I'm listening to the same five or six songs over and over and over and over. It doesn't bother me as much as it probably should.

I received a weird e-mail from an acquaintance last night. She pointed me towards a LJ user who seems convinced what I've said about parahumanism indicates that I think I'm better than everyone else and wish to become a god. Um. No. I will defend myself with my own words. I wrote, on March 10th, "And it's never really been about becoming better, just different." The italics were there in the original entry. Indeed, one reason that I was no longer comfortable with the label "transhumanist" is its stress on becoming better than a mere biological entity. So, I will say again, because obviously not everyone's reading comprehension skills are quite up to snuff, I am speaking of morphological freedom and self-determination and the desire to be perceived as nonhuman. And while that no doubt sounds kind of bizarre to a lot of people, it clearly does not equate with a desire to become a god (or goddess). Especially given how frequently I've stated here and elsewhere that I see the goddess and god and divine androgyne aspects as metaphors, not actual autonomous beings. Surely, this is one of the oddest accusations ever leveled against me, but then I suppose I should have been expecting something of the sort, having openly resigned from Homo sapiens. So, yeah, people are perfectly free to think me a lunatic in this or any other regard, and even to say so publicly, but please, get it right.

Yesterday was all Limbo. Me sitting here all day, almost all day, frelling about online, unsure of the next move, wanting to write but lacking anything like direction. Perhaps today will be better. Perhaps today I can begin a new vignette. Maybe I'll start proofing the Alabaster galleys. Maybe I'll tidy up the filing cabinet. At least we got a good walk in yesterday, exploring the neighborhood west of L5P. We had a brief conversation with a beautiful little ginger tom. Even his nose was ginger. His eyes were a gorgeous sort of luminous orange. He was still in that gawky teenage phase, but past kittenhood. So, yes, a good walk.

Thai for dinner, and then we rented Gore Verbinski's The Weather Man, which must certainly be one of the most underrated films of 2005. Like Lord of War and Matchstick Men, this is one of Nicolas Cage's good films. And we got Michael Caine, in the bargain. I really think Cage's performance was deserving of a Best Oscar nomination, and I do recommend this film. And that was yesterday. And this is today. And all I can do is wait and see.

Luminous Innards

Speaking of chimeras (see the commets to yesterday's entry), Spooky came across this article on Yahoo, and I was seized with an overwhelming need to share.

Mouse Hearts Glow Like E.T.'s

You know, some poor frellwit actually paid to attend college to be hired by some other poor frellwit to write headlines like that, and they both make more money than I do. But. Anyway. Once again, fun with hybridizations that Nature never could have managed. Why does it always seem to involve bioluminescent jellyfish DNA? Or spider silk? I want my chromatophores, damn it, and I want them now.

Looking at all those mouse hearts, I can't help but think of Andy Warhol...