A signal, half-static, fading with dawn.


Dated skulls, Romania - The skulls in the ossuary of the 15th century Neamt Monastery bear little texts stating the names and dates of the monks. Photo Mick Palarczyk.

Is this me bragging about how obscenely fast my internet connection is? Or a cry for help from the ~100 hours I’m going to murder over the next couple of months?

A) Good ‘puter-name. B) What shell do you usually roll with

The latest version of bash (4.3). I hear good things about zsh, but I know bash like the back of my hand and I’ve got it extensively tricked out. It’s no contest.

Yosemite is apparently going to ship with a seven-year-old default shell. Thank heavens for Homebrew.

Here are some things that I feel about this Constantine bullshit

I was excited for this show. I love Hellblazer—noir detective stories with magic and the occult? Yes please!—and I’ve always loved John Constantine as a character, and yeah, as a bisexual male reader it was pretty cool to read a bisexual male hero (and one who gives zero fucks what you think about his sexuality, thanks-and-fuck-off), but that part’s always been more of a bonus than anything.

And yet. This stings. John Constantine is canonically bisexual. It’s a big enough part of his character that the showrunner, Daniel Cerone, was specifically asked about it at a press event; but according to Cerone, it’s not important enough to mention: in “three decades [of comics], there might have been one or two issues where he’s seen getting out of bed with a man. So [maybe] 20 years from now? But there are no immediate plans.”

What absolute bullshit. You don’t even have to show him “getting out of bed with a man.” It would take one line of dialogue. Have him mention an ex-boyfriend to his inevitable female love interest. Boom. He’s bi. You’re done, and you’ve just increased the number of bisexual men on network television by half.

But no. Not only did Cerone specifically, explicitly close a door he could just as easily have ignored—he’s not wrong that the comics don’t exactly feature a parade of male lovers—he decided to retroactively cast the character as not that bisexual, anyway. So he slept with men “one or two” times; does that even count?

It does to me. None of us are ever bisexual enough. I’ve either slept with too many men or too few. The fact that I’ve never had a serious boyfriend is cause for “suspicion,” never mind the fact that I’ve only ever had about three serious girlfriends. Even if I had dated a guy or two, to most people that would just mean I was gay, like the fact that I’m currently in a relationship with a woman means that most people read me as straight. And I’m not.

This is called erasure, and it is ubiquitous, and it fucking sucks.

  • When she breaks up with a guy and starts dating a girl and therefore “she’s a lesbian now” (or vice various versas), that’s erasure.
  • When you’re a different gender than your partner’s last ex and therefore you “converted” them, that’s erasure.
  • When I get told to my face that having an opposite-sex partner means I “don’t count” in conversations about queer issues, that’s erasure.
  • When the word “bisexual” is spoken once in two full seasons of Orange is the New Black, which depicts a metric fuckload of female bisexuality, that’s erasure.
  • When you divide the world into “straight people, gay men, and lesbians,” that’s erasure. (It’s also when me and my genderqueer siblings reach for our revolvers.)
  • When they take a character who’s been established as bisexual for over 20 continuous years and go out of their way to start writing him as straight because whatever, it’s not like it’s important—that’s erasure, and it feels like shit.

I know. It’s just a stupid TV show. And this is obviously not the only representation problem in our toxic capitalist patriarchy. But it’s the one personally poking me in the eye right now. Cerone and NBC are saying that me, and men like me, and our life experiences, are—at best—not worth telling stories about, and at worst we’re just wayyyyyy too weird for the network with face-eating cannibalism.

They’re also fucking up one of the infinitesimally few bisexual male characters who wasn’t slightly embarrassing to like. It might not mean much in the grand scheme of things, but still, it feels like something’s been taken away from me, something I didn’t have much of to begin with, and I hate how familiar it feels, and I hate how much it feels like a loss.


Things that are portrayed as weak and lame but in reality can probably beat the shit out of you and steal your lunch money then spend it on candy:

  • hufflepuffs
  • canadians
  • women



On people against feminism


What do you think about all the people who don’t understand feminism? Especially the women who supposedly “are against feminism because they don’t hate men”? Should we argue or is it a lost cause?

No, we shouldn’t argue. We should teach. We should enlighten. We should in the friendliest of spirits and without the slightest trace of condescension drop so much fucking knowledge on those people that it crushes their flawed and simplistic understanding of gender politics.

We should be patient in the face of ignorance until we know for sure that it is willful. We should give them every opportunity to change their minds, because at the end of the day, very few people are built around a core of malignant, incurable misogyny. Very few people have a world view so grotesque that they actually believe women should be subjugated. Very few people will openly admit that equality isn’t a noble pursuit — especially women for whom so often their only fault is being misguided about the fundamental concepts.

No one is a lost cause until we find out for sure that their identity is tied to an aggressively misogynistic belief system, and when we come across those broken souls, we don’t argue. That’s wasted breath. We simply mark them with red flags and keep them at arm’s length, because those are the ones who aren’t safe to be around.


“Whenever I saw her, I felt like I had been living in another country, doing moderately well in another language, and then she showed up speaking English and suddenly I could speak with all the complexity and nuance that I hadn’t realized was gone. With Lucy I was a native speaker.”
― Ann Patchett,
Truth and Beauty