Those of you who enjoyed Isabella Rossellini’s Green Porno videos which I linked to a while back might be interested in knowing that Green Porno 2 is now being shown. The focus of this second season is the sexual behavior of sea creatures.
Author: Eugene Fischer
The thing to do today on the internet seems to be to post about love. Well, specifically, to post the sentence “I love you” to your social networking sites. Now, naturally, I love no one. (Well, that’s a lie. I mean, it goes without saying that I love you. But since I love only you, that seems insensitive to speak of too loudly.) Perhaps that is why, when I think of the most recent rumination on love to deeply effect me, my mind falls on this, from The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle.
When I was a young man, and very well thought of, I couldn't ask aught that the ladies denied. I nibbled their hearts like a handful of raisins, And I never spoke love but I knew that I lied. But I said to myself, "Ah, they none of them know The secret I shelter and savor and save. I wait for the one who will see through my seeming, And I'll know when I love by the way I behave." The years drifted over like clouds in the heavens; The ladies went by me like snow on the wind. I charmed and I cheated, deceived and dissembled, And I sinned, and I sinned, and I sinned, and I sinned. But I said to myself, "Ah, they none of them see There's part of me pure as the whisk of a wave. My lady is late, but she'll find I've been faithful, And I'll know when I love by the way I behave." At last came a lady both knowing and tender, Saying, "You're not at all what they take you to be." I betrayed her before she had quite finished speaking, And she swallowed cold poison and jumped into the sea. And I say to myself, when there's time for a word, As I gracefully grow more debauched and depraved, "Ah, love may be strong, but a habit is stronger, And I knew when I loved by the way I behaved."
This concept, “love may be strong, but a habit is stronger,” makes me wonder what really does go without saying. What can dissolve in a caustic silence, which one might mistake for stasis? Perhaps it is not empty sentimentality about sentimentality, but a recognition of the need for communicative renewal that makes internet I Love You day attractive.
INT. IHOP — NIGHT
EUGENE is sitting in a booth. He has a sore throat, and so is trying not to speak. There is a laptop computer open on the table in front of him, into which are plugged the headphones he is wearing. In the booth adjacent to Eugene’s, a MAN and a WOMAN are having animated conversation. A WAITER enters, carrying a glass of water with no ice. The Waiter places the glass of water in front of the Woman.
WAITER
So you’re whining to Bob for your water now?
WOMAN
What?
WAITER
Bob tells me I need to bring out a water with no ice. When did you get so picky?
WOMAN
(Points at glass.) That’s not mine.
WAITER
You didn’t order this?
MAN
Dude, this girl is all about ice.
WOMAN
Yeah, I’ll take a water with ice, if you want to do any actual work tonight. But that’s not mine.
WAITER
Huh.
EUGENE
(Begins to wave at the Waiter.)
WAITER
I wonder what Bob was thinking.
MAN
(Sees Eugene waving and points at him) I think it’s that guy’s.
WAITER
(Not looking at where the Man points) No, you’re my only table.
MAN
He’s waving at you.
WAITER
(Finally looks.) Oh!
The Waiter approaches Eugene with the glass of water, which he places on Eugene’s table.
WAITER
Sorry about that.
EUGENE
(Nods and smiles.)
WAITER
I just assumed it was hers, because water with no ice is something girls order.
(Beat.)
Um, not to call you a girl. It’s not an insult.
(Beat.)
Well, obviously, it is an insult!
(Long beat.)
No, I didn’t mean that. I mean, it’s true. But I can’t help that it’s only girls order water with no ice.
(Beat.)
Well, sorry anyway. You aren’t actually my table. They are.
Exit Waiter. The Man and the Woman begin to talk again, but Eugene raises the volume on his laptop so that he can no longer hear.
I’ve been waiting for a fourth of a year to be able to take this picture:
At long last, I have some medication that has a chance of being effective. As I alluded to in my silliness yesterday, Humira is an injectable antibody for a cytokine called tumor necrosis factor alpha. TNF-alpha is used by the immune system to mediate inflammation. As I have inflammatory bowel disease, I am producing far too much of it. Humira will, hopefully, inhibit this.
As it happens though, I will have to wait a little longer to find out. After nearly four months of being on broad immunosuppression while I waited and fought for my more targeted medication, I have finally gotten sick. I have an absurd cold or something that has me feverish and voiceless. Meanwhile, Humira is a medicine that some people have adverse reactions to, so when I start on it any side effects need to be closely monitored. Unfortunately, one of the common side effects of starting on Humira is…wait for it…cold-like symptoms. So until I’m over whatever I have, it will be impossible to isolate my health variables sufficiently to safely start my new course of treatment.
But hell, I’ve only been waiting to start this treatment for all of 2009. What’s another week at the outside? At least I have my drugs now.
The following is a classified communique, smuggled across the blood/brain barrier from counter-insurgency leaders in the cortex.
—————
*URGENT MESSAGE FOR PARTISANS OF THE DEFENDERS OF THE DIGESTIVE TISSUES*
It’s been a long battle. No one knows better than we do how entrenched and seemingly unstoppable are the rogue forces within the immune system that persist in waging their psychotic war against the innocent cells of the alimentary canal. And no one knows better than we do the sacrifices our allies have made in the ongoing effort to protect and preserve the digestive tract for future generations. Up until now, our only weapon against the autoimmune offensive has been the cortisol flood. Our adrenal compatriots have been valiant in this matter, but we all knew it was never more than a stopgap measure. Overproduction of corticosteroids takes too much of a toll on us all to be a long term solution.
But soon we will have a new weapon. Our enemy’s weak point has been identified, and we are poised to attack.
This is our target: tumor necrosis factor alpha. This cytokine has been identified as the molecule the enemy is using to regulate its illegal inflammatory actions. Without TNF-alpha, the insurgents will be unable to continue clear-cutting our villi and ulcerating our viscera. Their hidden macrophages will be rendered impotent, their detestable engines of apoptosis will grind to a halt. We have the intelligence we need to end this war. And, soon, we will have the means to act on it. But we can’t do it alone; to strike this blow, we will need to accept help from an unusual source.
Your tireless counter-insurgency leaders have for some time now been in communication with extra-corpus agents. We are aware that the idea of opening our borders to mercenary elements may be unsettling to some, but the reality of our situation is that such an alliance is our only path to victory. The negotiations have been long and difficult, but, thanks to these efforts, we will be able to mount a new counter-offensive within one diurnal cycle.
The operation, code named “Project Humira,” will involve the introduction of an extra-corpus produced molecule called adalimumab. It is an antibody designed to target TNF-alpha directly. We currently lack the means to manufacture this antibody ourselves, but we have negotiated what we believe will be a steady supply, to be introduced into the circulatory system from without. It is our belief that, with this antibody at our disposal, we can downregulate the insurgents’ inflammatory activity and finally end their destructive madness. The unique and irreplaceable tissues of the digestive tract will be preserved for the appreciation and benefit our daughter cells and their daughter cells after them, down through the generations. We will know homeostasis in our time. Victory will soon be ours.
—————
Not for distribution within active inflammation zones. Denature after transcription.
Yesterday I had a tickle in my throat that metamorphosed in the night into something more akin to a forest fire. And I’m on day 2 of a weird, intermittent nose bleed. And as I mentioned a little while back, I’ve lately been suffering from an increase in the severity of my Crohn’s symptoms. But for all that, I’m feeling pretty happy today, for the following reasons, listed in ascending order of importance:
- Magic robe.
- I had an appointment with my gastroenterologist on Monday, and he decided that the backwards progression of my symptoms called for several aggressive steps to be taken on my behalf, including giving me stronger pain meds. So now I have a magic robe and a big bottle of hydrocodone. Even at this level of pain, hydrocodone seems to be strong enough to keep Zelazny’s Toothache at bay.
- If you have clicked over to the “Writing” tab since last night, you will have noticed that there is now a firm publication date for the story of mine that Strange Horizons is publishing. I’m going through the galley now.
- I’ve spent the last three months on prednisone (which I was only supposed to be on for a matter of weeks) due to a protracted and ridiculous battle with my insurance company. As of this morning, that battle is over. I am finally going to be allowed to start on one of the class of medications my doctor first prescribed for me back in January. If things go as planned, I will finally have a gleaming syringe full of specially tailored monoclonal antibodies delivered to me on Friday.
I’ve been putting off writing up a long, detailed account of The Harrowing Tale of E. J. and the Crohn’s until the insurance issues were resolved one way or another. If I actually get my meds on Friday, that will give the narrative enough closure for me to be willing to commit it to text. I expect it will be somewhat cathartic to write, though I can make no promises that it will be particularly pleasant to read. And I might wait a little while to post it, as I’m not convinced that thousands of words about misery and blood and pain are what I want on the front page of this site when my first published story goes live. But if my discussion of my health issues up to this point has, to borrow a phrase from Neal Stephenson, sounded like the terse mutterings of a pilot at the controls of a damaged plane, know that that has been more or less by design. For the last 2/3 of a year, my life has been awfully one-note; limiting the degree to which I let it dominate my conversation has been an intentional coping strategy to force me to pay attention to more positive things.
From PubMed:
Clinical evaluation of postpartum vaginal mucus reflects uterine bacterial infection and the immune response in cattle. Authors: Williams EJ, Fischer DP, ….
Sally Wister’s Journal — M. T. Anderson recommends this Civil War era journal in an interview, saying it was one of the more interesting things he read doing research for Octavian Nothing. He claims that if Wister had ever turned her hand to fiction, she would have been one of the great American novelists.
The Quiet Coup — article in The Atlantic in which Simon Johnson, former economist with the International Monetary Fund, explains exactly how the IMF would be treating the United States if it were any other country.
Fear and the Availability Heuristic — post on Bruce Schneier’s blog about the non-rational basis of most human risk assessment.
360 Degree Character Reviews — John Rogers talks about some interesting exercises a writer can use to get to know his or her characters.
Join or Die — artist Justine Lai’s series of paintings of herself having sex with the presidents of the United States.
BOINC — Open source software to donate unused processor cycles to many scientific projects. I’ve donated mine to the World Community Grid.
Meanwhile, on Twitter….
glorioushubris Confession: When sick earlier this week, I impulse-bought a gold and black polyester robe embroidered with dragons to make me feel better.
glorioushubris Further confession: it totally worked. I am a medical genius.
mkazoo @glorioushubris Picture? I think such a robe should be documented for posterity.
KatWithSword @glorioushubris totally agree w/ @mkazoo Please give us photos
lnaturale @glorioushubris How could it not?
charitylarrison @glorioushubris I imagine you reading elric novels in it
kellysue @glorioushubris pix or it didn’t happen
aacooper @glorioushubris If only there were a medical version of the arXiv, you could share your discovery with mankind!
I bend to the will of the collective. My robe:
Close up of one of the dragons:
Did I mention the robe is reversible? It is totally reversible:
My immediate reaction to learning I was accepted to Clarion: grabbing books by Neil Gaiman and Kelly Link and grinning like a maniac.
This picture was taken a year ago yesterday, approximately ten minutes after I found out I was accepted to the Clarion Writers’ Workshop for 2008. That night my girlfriend and I were planning to go out to dinner to celebrate her having finished her qualifying exam. We stopped at my apartment for some reason or other, and I checked my email, and suddenly we had something new to celebrate. I was just finishing a year of Figuring Things Out that I took for myself after I graduated from Trinity, during which I tried to decide if I was going to stay in the sciences or if I was going to try seriously to pursue being a writer. I viewed my application to Clarion as something of a personal test: if I could get in to this workshop, with that history and those instructors, then maybe being a science fiction author wasn’t just an impossible fantasy. Despite having been a creative writing major at my swanky, free-thinking arts high school, five years of pouring all of my mental energy into physics and mathematics had made me lose any strong sense of myself as a writer. Being accepted to Clarion was my first step toward taking myself seriously that way again. And, in all the ways that Kathleen Howard writes about so eloquently (must-read advice for those just accepted), attending it changed my life.
Now eighteen more lives are going to be changed. The Clarion 2009 class has been selected. You can see their names and links to some blogs at the UCSD Clarion Alumni page. Huge congratulations to all of you! You are in for an amazing, exhausting, once-in-a-lifetime experience.
It’s a fascinating feeling, watching the cycle continue with a fresh group of students. Part of me feels a sense of loss–my Clarion is undeniably over now that there is a new, more recent one. But a large part of the appeal of Clarion when I first applied to it was its history. Forty years of being the proving ground for some of the best and most successful writers in SF. So another, greater part of me thrills to see the tradition continue, knowing that I am a part of that history now.
Finally: I can’t improve on Kat’s advice for the newly accepted. But I do have some thoughts for the newly not-accepted (some of whom I know read this blog). They all boil down to reasons why, disappointed as you may be, you should not be discouraged and you should apply again. Know that Clarion receives more qualified applicants than it has spaces available every year, and this year was no exception. The selection committee always has to make some very tough choices. So a rejection, especially one which says you impressed the committee, should not necessarily be seen as an indictment of your writing. You may well have been very close to getting in. Additionally, as long as attending Clarion lines up with your means and life goals you should keep applying because, honestly: if you have talent and are putting in effort, your odds of getting in are not bad. Pretend that applications were selected randomly. There are 18 spots open every year. The record number of applications in a year is 194. This year there were 91. (It is likely that economic factors depressed the number of applications somewhat. One third of this year’s accepted class is from California, as were a majority of all applicants. It looks like people for whom travel costs would be significant were less likely to apply this year.) If we use these numbers as a range, then (pretending quality of writing is not an issue) a random application has about a 10%-20% chance of being accepted. If you are serious and confident about your work, it is not unreasonable to assume that your chances of getting in are 1-in-5 or better. I can’t overstate how positive an experience Clarion was for me. Certainly worth continuing to shoot for, with odds like that.
One more note: While San Diego is my Clarion, there is actually a family of Clarion workshops. Clarion West in Seattle has accepted (almost all?) of its 2009 class as well, and congratulations to them! There is also an Australian workshop modeled after the American ones, Clarion South. Clarion South is currently struggling to meet its funding goal for its next session. The call is going out through the extended Clarion family: consider donating to Clarion South. Help keep the workshops alive, so that they will be there for future students and their wonderful tradition and history can continue to grow.