Love and marriage…



Television warned me about it, but I’m going to try it anyway. Dutch bureaucracy and medical realities willing S. and I will get married in the next two weeks. Not so much from a deep seated romantic need for a marriage as an symbol of our love (though that is nice) but to make sure our legal situation is stabilised just in case. As y’all know, S. has been going through a very rough patch this year after the kidney transplant what with opportunistic infections and other calamities, so now that she’s fully recovered from the previous bout the doctors want to schedule a long overdue cleanup operation. I won’t go into details, but the idea is that if the operation is succesful it will break the cycle of infection-recouperation-reinfection, by tackling several sources of infection at the same time. It’ll mean S.’s basic health level will be up, helping her cope better with the anti-rejection drugs while still able to fight off new infections. But it’s heavy duty surgery, things can go wrong and we want to make sure that if somethings happen, everything that needs to be arranged can be arranged with the least amount of legal hassle. It’ll make it that much easier to actually undergo the operation, scheduled for less than two weeks from now…

The hospital has been incredibly helpful, the doctor in charge having contacted the city council to help arrange an emergency wedding, which could be held in the hospital itself, and I have an appointment first thing monday sharp to see if we got all the paperwork to actually be able to marry, something already complicated as the Dutch bureacracy seems to ask for certain documents actually unknown to their English counterparts. Oh well, my job the last few years has largely been about convincing well meaning but rulebound civil servants to things my way, so how hard can it be (famous last words).

So no flowers, no ring, no big party, just get it done and dusted, get S. out of hospital hopefully to not return there soon and we’ll see about a proper party sometime next summer, when her family can be there as well (we hope).

Once more around the sun

Completed another year on this planet and the best present I could get today would be if Holland was forever excluded from any attempts to host either the Worldcup or the Olympic Games. For some reason best known to themselves the national football association and the lobbying circus surrounding that august organisation have decided we all would love to have the Worldcup come to the Netherlands in 2018 or 2022, a prospect that fills me with about as much horror as the periodic threats of a new Olympic bid for Amsterdam do. Holland is too small for these events, even if we co-host with Belgium. Getting ready for a worldcup means upgrading a lot of stadiums to capacities they will never ever use again, saddling the responsible clubs (or more like, their respective city councils) with an expensive white elephant. Economically most of the big money would be earned by FIFA and drained away abroad (untaxed of course), the big sponsors would demand exclusivity and local firms would notice little or nothing of the games. The big carrot hold in front of us is tourism, but we’ve got those coming out of our ears anyway and it’s a well known fact that big sporting events like this chase away as many tourists as they lure, as South Africa saw this year and Beijing did in 2008. Hosting a Worldcup or Olympic Games would cost a lot of money for dubious gains and what’s worse, the costs would be borne by society as a whole, through public investment while the gains would be limited to a few big businesses. A perfect microcosm of contemporary capitalism perhaps, but not in my backyard.

On a more personal level, being thirtysix today feels no different from being thirtyfive and 364 days yesterday and what with all the stuff we’ve had to deal with this year I’m not feeling particularly birthday like. Not depressed either, just not finding it that important — much more important was that S. could finally come outside for five minutes today for her first fag in weeks, having caught a case of chicken pox on top of everything else and having had to stay in quarantaine until today. The doctors are now optimistic about the possibility of quickly scheduling her hopefully last operation, which would “clean up” some of the issues the kidney transplant left behind, help lower risks of infection and yank up her resistance a bit without endangering the donor kidney. She may actually be free of the hospital this year — a far better present than physical gift, but don’t let that stop you…

Meme time

Phil has managed to put together an interesting little blog meme together, asking the following five questions:

  1. the blogs you read regularly when you started blogging
  2. the blogs you read regularly now
  3. some blogs you’ve stopped reading (and why)
  4. the blog you’ve started reading most recently
  5. every blog you’ve ever contributed to

He has done a pretty good job answering his own questions, let’s see if I can do as well:

1 the blogs you read regularly when you started blogging: I became aware of blogs in 2000/2001 but was still mostly an Usenet person, as well as being on dailup rather than broadband. So the first blogs I read where by regulars fromt he science fiction newsgroups, like Avedon Carol or the Nielsen Haydens. This was just before the warbloggers took over the medium when it was still mainly nerds ‘n geeks that blogged, to me more a sideline to Usenet than a replacement. It was only a year later, as the great flood of rightwing assholes starting blogs about how we need to kill all the ragheads that I started Wis[s]e Words, as Usenet had become unusable and I needed somewhere to shout, rather than just at the telly. The booklog however had been going for a year already at that point, having been started in 2001 as a way of keeping track of everything I’d read. So it was mainly nerdy and booklogs I read, things like Boing Boing. This is the earliest existing snapshot of blogs I follwoed on the Internet Archive.

2 the blogs you read regularly now: I tried to regularly read all the blogs in the sidebar to the right, as well as those on my other blogs. Usually however I start at Unfogged, where the posts are dull but the threads are as Usenetty as everything you’d be likely to find these days, followed by Jamie, Roy and Aaronvitch Watch. These four I hit up first thing in the morning everyday, as they usually all have something new every day that’s interesting, funny and easy to digest. Phil himself is somebody I regularly check as well, but is one of those bloggers you have patience for, but if there’s something there it’s always a treat. Then there’s James, the various comics bloggers, the more serious political bloggers and depending how dull the day is, I go through the entire blogroll.

3 some blogs you’ve stopped reading (and why): quite a few blogs I’ve stopped following through the years. Some just stopped blogging, like Justin, but with a lot I just lost interest, either because a blog itself became boring, or more that I lost interest in a given category of blogs. Ditched the nerdy blogs, the “readable rightwingers”, the techy blogs, added more socialists, and so on. Since Obama’s election it has been the American socalled liberal blogs that have become utterly dull, either hegemonised into the Democratic Party mainstream, or just so demoralised by the amazing revelation that Barack Obama is not quite the second coming of FDR they’ve become boring in their hatred. Some of the more mainstream political English blogs may go the same way, as the new political realities hit home.

But the blog I miss the most didn’t end because the blogger lost interest or that I lost interest, but because he killed himself. I’m talking about Aaron Hawkins, the self styled Uppity Negro who was geeky, smart, wickedly funny, incredibly good at getting at the not so hidden racist within each warblogger, overall perhaps the best blogger I’ve ever read, but it wasn’t enough. On September 3, 2004 he committed suicide. Almost six years ago now, I still miss him.

4 the blog you’ve started reading most recently: let’s make that three. First, K-Punk, socialist theory made interesting and even a bit cool. Then there’s Indistinguishable from Magic, all about how one particular person thinks about comics and creating comics, which is always been the sort of thing I like. Finally, Gin and Tacos, a sarky and sane look at US politics, one of the few American politics orientated blogs still worth reading.

5 every blog you’ve ever contributed to: quite a few. My Booklog is the oldest, started in 2001. This was followed on March 7 2002 with this one, Wis[s]e Words, as an outlet for political and other frustrations. Prog Gold was set up on November 1, 2002, back when I still thought blogs could change the world and I could harness their power. Intended to be something like what Daily Kos is now, a central clearinghouse for the “progressive blogosphere” it has since mutated into a two person groupblog, though with S. still in hospital even this is not true at the moment. When she was blogging, it always got more hits than Wis[s]e Words ever did.

Inbetween those two I also started Linkse Gedachten, een Dutch language blog and contributed occasionally to American Samizdat. I won’t even mention the Livejournal, mainly kept to be able to comment on other people’s journals…

So…. Your turn?

I need a digicam

…so I can do a Branko and actually take some pictures when traveling around the city. I bike to work at about seven AM every day (well, only ten minutes or so to the ferry to take me to Central Station) and there’s all sort of wildlife coming out that early, in the various unclaimed pieces wasteland by the water side. One spot in particular, when I have to cross a canal and which used to be used by the building crews for the North-South metro tunnel, is rife with birds as well as rabbits, profiting from a benign neglect. Lots of undergrowth, fairly quiet and nobody as of yet interested in redeveloping this little area. So each morning I’m greeted by sparrows, magpies (whom I always greet: “hello mr magpie, how are you today” as apparantly it brings bad luck otherwise; when they do say something back it’s usually just a “mustn’t grumble”), pidgeons, rabbits as well as parakeets or parrots, the latter descended from escaped/released cage birds.

It would be nice to be able to take pictures of this, especially since S. is still in hospital, having had to go back in in early July, with the prospect hanging in front of her of quite a few more months of having to stay there, with another operation to look forward to. Having some pictures of what she’s missing this year might help a bit in taking her mind off when the internet, radio or television are no longer working…

Books read July

July was somewhat better than June in terms of actually finishing books: eight instead of five, largely because I chose easier books to read, pure junkfood in some cases.

The Naming of the Dead — Ian Rankin
Rebus has to solve the murder of a rapist while the G8 is in town. Cameo appearance by one George Bush crashing his bike in a copper.

The Red Canary — Tim Birkhead
A pop science book about genetics, the quest to breed a true red canary from its normally green stock and why this was impossible without genetical enginering the colour in. Not a subject I’d normally be interested in, but quite readable.

Theater of War Lewis Lapham
I hadn’t heard of Lewis Lapham before, but he’s an American political commentator and this is a collection of his columns during the crucial period of 2000-2003, from the stolen election to the war on Iraq. Looking back at this period seven years later it’s unbelievable that we could’ve ever been bamboozled by the clowns Lapham skewers here. And by we I mean the media and politicians rather than anybody else…

Diamonds Are Forever — Ian Fleming
First time I’ve read a Bond book. They always said that the books were entirely different from the movies and they were right. The bad guys in the book just run a simple diamond smuggling operation instead of whatever convoluted shit the ones in the movie were about.

Moonraker — Ian Fleming
James Bond helps “M” to check out if famed industrialist Hugo Drax is actually cheating at bridge, then becomes the security chief of his Moonraker project vital to the national defence of Britain…

The Man With the Golden Gun — Ian Fleming
This is where that famous quote of Fleming’s of homosexuals not being able to whistle comes from. Just one example of the, shall we say, somewhat dated attitudes towards gender, sexuality and race in these books. Not often overtly malicious, but

Carve the Sky — Alexander Jablokov
Jablokov’s first novel and one of the few cyberpunk novels that seems to have been inspired by Bruce Sterling’s Schismatrix rather than Gibson’s Neuromancer.

The Hour of the Dragon — Robert E. Howard
Howard’s only Conan novel, sort of a greatest hits version of a Conan story, set late in his career. Not bad

Carnacki the Ghost-Finder — William Hope Hodgson
The ghost detective or paranormal investigator genre of fantasy was fairly popular in Edwardian England though almost extinct since. This collection is a good example of the genre, with Carnacki going at his business semi-scientifically, experimenting yet with his knowledge still based on ancient manuscripts as much as on scientific research. Sometimes the mystery investigated is a hoax and one story is just a straightup detective puzzle, but most do feature the supernatural in some way or another, in a very Lovecraftian way.