(no subject)

I spent an age last night sitting waiting for my laptop to connect to the internet. I keep getting 'limited or no connectivity: this problem occurred because the network did not assign a network address to your computer' messages, or sheer inability to detect the network. I am pissed about this, and no mistake: not least because it has been happening on and off for the better part of the last two months. (Always before, eventually it would come right. It might take ten or fifteen minutes, but it would come right. Not so much, tonight. Curse you, eircom broadband. I will rearrange your guts with coathangers. I will. Also, it is useless if you tell me I am connected, and give me consistent 'page not found' messages through my browsers.)

Now it is Wednesday, and I am posting this on a college PC. (My blood pressure, it is not happy with this, you understand?)

Books 2008: 137-141

137, 138, 139. Tim Pratt, Blood Engines, Poison Sleep, Dead Reign.

I read these in the order thus: Dead Reign, Blood Engines, Poison Sleep. That's third, first, second, for anyone playing along. I had Blood Engines to hand, but I brought Dead Reign back from Calgary, and only recalled Blood Engines when I was nearly done with it. (Immediately on finishing Dead Reign, I read Blood Engines. Immediately on finishing that, I sought out and bought Poison Sleep. That should tell you something.)

These are taut, fast, driven contemporary fantasy - urban fantasy, but without all the vampire/werewolf/love interest stuff that clings to most urban fantasy now, dragging it down into sameness. No. This is fresh, intelligent, and grimly funny in parts. Oh, they have flaws, but minor ones. The characters are interesting, even the insane or amoral ones. Everything's pretty well thought out, and I found them very enjoyable. Looking forward to number four.

140, 141. David Drake, The Mirror of Worlds, Some Golden Harbor.

I like Drake's long-running Isles series perhaps a little too much. I also like his O'Leary & Mundy space opera stuff more than a little. Respectively, that's what these are, and while there's nothing particularly new about either of these instalments, what's there is certainly well-done.

(no subject)

I spent an age last night sitting waiting for my laptop to connect to the internet. I keep getting 'limited or no connectivity: this problem occurred because the network did not assign a network address to your computer' messages, or sheer inability to detect the network. I am pissed about this, and no mistake: not least because it has been happening on and off for the better part of the last two months. (Always before, eventually it would come right. It might take ten or fifteen minutes, but it would come right. Not so much, tonight. Curse you, eircom broadband. I will rearrange your guts with coathangers. I will. Also, it is useless if you tell me I am connected, and give me consistent 'page not found' messages through my browsers.)

Now it is Wednesday, and I am posting this on a college PC. (My blood pressure, it is not happy with this, you understand?)

Books 2008: 137-141

137, 138, 139. Tim Pratt, Blood Engines, Poison Sleep, Dead Reign.

I read these in the order thus: Dead Reign, Blood Engines, Poison Sleep. That's third, first, second, for anyone playing along. I had Blood Engines to hand, but I brought Dead Reign back from Calgary, and only recalled Blood Engines when I was nearly done with it. (Immediately on finishing Dead Reign, I read Blood Engines. Immediately on finishing that, I sought out and bought Poison Sleep. That should tell you something.)

These are taut, fast, driven contemporary fantasy - urban fantasy, but without all the vampire/werewolf/love interest stuff that clings to most urban fantasy now, dragging it down into sameness. No. This is fresh, intelligent, and grimly funny in parts. Oh, they have flaws, but minor ones. The characters are interesting, even the insane or amoral ones. Everything's pretty well thought out, and I found them very enjoyable. Looking forward to number four.

140, 141. David Drake, The Mirror of Worlds, Some Golden Harbor.

I like Drake's long-running Isles series perhaps a little too much. I also like his O'Leary & Mundy space opera stuff more than a little. Respectively, that's what these are, and while there's nothing particularly new about either of these instalments, what's there is certainly well-done.

I was waiting down at the ancient gate

Essay-engine: still working. The diasporas essay is now more than half done. I am hopeful of further progress soon. If I can get it wholly done by tomorrow night, I will declare myself satisfied and return to banging my head against imperial Rome.

It's shocking how much conditioning one loses in a fortnight: climbing Tuesday night was made of flail, fail, and other unpleasant words beginning with F. I dread tomorrow, when I will attempt to start running again. I haven't run in the better part of two months, so I anticipate great pain.

In other news, I continue to not write. I have a cunning plan to winkle out some writing time, but it will not start until next week, and it will rely to a large degree on my capacity for a)self-discipline and b)sleep deprivation. (I suspect it will result in me abandoning the internets until the winter holidays, too.) You see, it involves:

- getting up at ten to five in the morning
- writing for an hour before catching the quarter to seven train into college
- arriving at the gym before eight am
- running and stretching for up to an hour
- heading to class/library/study

Also staying in and climbing for a couple of hours for four out of five evenings: so not getting home until eight or nine. I think this may be asking too much of myself, but I'll give it a shot next week, and see how it works. I have a writing itch like you would not believe, but right now I should be studious, and do essays. (I am writing this while I wait for the epiphany that will give me the final third of my essay. Sometimes waiting even works.)

---

Excellent evening lecture on gladiators, sexuality, and death in the Roman amphitheatre. Particularly of interest were the remarks on the gladiatorial helmet, which concealed the face; status differentials among different types of gladiators; the gladiatorial cemetery at Ephesus; phallic and sexual imagery and gladiators; gladiators, virtus and infames; and submission in bouts, including the role of the editor and the crowd in determining life and death for the defeated.

Great guy giving the lecture, too.

I was waiting down at the ancient gate

Essay-engine: still working. The diasporas essay is now more than half done. I am hopeful of further progress soon. If I can get it wholly done by tomorrow night, I will declare myself satisfied and return to banging my head against imperial Rome.

It's shocking how much conditioning one loses in a fortnight: climbing Tuesday night was made of flail, fail, and other unpleasant words beginning with F. I dread tomorrow, when I will attempt to start running again. I haven't run in the better part of two months, so I anticipate great pain.

In other news, I continue to not write. I have a cunning plan to winkle out some writing time, but it will not start until next week, and it will rely to a large degree on my capacity for a)self-discipline and b)sleep deprivation. (I suspect it will result in me abandoning the internets until the winter holidays, too.) You see, it involves:

- getting up at ten to five in the morning
- writing for an hour before catching the quarter to seven train into college
- arriving at the gym before eight am
- running and stretching for up to an hour
- heading to class/library/study

Also staying in and climbing for a couple of hours for four out of five evenings: so not getting home until eight or nine. I think this may be asking too much of myself, but I'll give it a shot next week, and see how it works. I have a writing itch like you would not believe, but right now I should be studious, and do essays. (I am writing this while I wait for the epiphany that will give me the final third of my essay. Sometimes waiting even works.)

---

Excellent evening lecture on gladiators, sexuality, and death in the Roman amphitheatre. Particularly of interest were the remarks on the gladiatorial helmet, which concealed the face; status differentials among different types of gladiators; the gladiatorial cemetery at Ephesus; phallic and sexual imagery and gladiators; gladiators, virtus and infames; and submission in bouts, including the role of the editor and the crowd in determining life and death for the defeated.

Great guy giving the lecture, too.