Where he's been, what he's been up to, what he's thinking now ...
My how she's changed! An infant no more, Baobao takes a step into the future on January 1, 2021.
Well, I paid for another year of this Dreamwidth account (and LJ will be coming due soon: Will I pay for that again as well?), so I damned well better use it, right?
I know that attempting to fully catch-up would be a horrible fool's errand, so I'll suggest you check out PapaZesser.ca if you want to know (some of) what I've been up to, and to see lots of pictures of a very cute baby's remarkable progress.
Also, my publishing company, though there isn't nearly as much that's new there (there are, of course, two really good books available there, though they've barely been selling. Publishing is hard.) I am also in the process of bringing my original website back to life, but it's a slow hobby.
I just checked and see that my last post talked about an apparent offer for child modelling. I did, in fact, reply to the initial message, only to get a generic message in return. Since then, we've had another nibble, but Mama Raven checked out the company and told me it had a lot of negative reviews, so I ignored it.
So much for monetizing my daughter's (undeniable) cuteness.
Onwards. How about some genuine Rexian random gloats?
- Star Trek: Discovery is a terrible, terrible teevee program; Disco makes Star Trek (let's spend the first five episodes doing what your average heist movie does in the first 15 minutes): Picard look like Shakespeare. I dunno if I'll ever write up a proper critique of the thing, but sooner or later I'll post my notes at the very least. It's not Torchwood: Miracle Day bad, but it's bad.
- One of the (many, many!) good things about The Expanse is that it never makes death look cool. Even when millions of lives are lost, it strives to make sure we understand that those deaths matter, that the dead are individual people, not just numbers, and certainly not a first-person shooter's body count.
- Speaking of The Expanse, as a peripheral member of cancel culture, I find it both disturbing and interesting (and maybe, instructive?) that I am more uncomfortable watching scenes that include include Alex Kamal, as portrayed by Canada's own Cas Anvar, who has been accused of sexual harassment and sexual assault by a lot of women (and who, I've now learned, won't be returning for season six), than I am that the show is produced by Amazon and was saved from cancellation by Jeff Bezos himself, a man who has far more blood of far more workers on his hands than women Anvar could ever hope to assault.
Jeff Bezos feasts, just as we all always knew he would.
Whatever it says about me, that I won't buy anything by Orson Scott Card anymore, but that I haven't boycotted Amazon, I'm not sure, but it can't be flattering;
- Being a house-husband is the hardest job I've ever had, without any question at all. I threw my back out (not too badly, but bad enough that I spent New Year's Day on prescription muscle relaxants and codeine, and today taking it very cautiously (but drug-free), and I feel as if I am about to return from 10 days in Cuba;
- Being a dad is the best job I've ever had, without question. She bugs me sometimes, but I was made for this shit;
- I know Nalo Hopkinson personally (not that well, but we've socialized), and I am happy that she has been made an SFWA grand-master, but the truth is, I don't think she written enough to warrant the honour.
- I was one of the (relatively few) lucky ones. The year of Covid-19 was a good one for me. I was laid off in March, and so was blessed with the chance to become my daughter's primary care-giver.
- Yesterday's Doctor Who special was all right. Not great (has there ever been a Doctor Who special that was actually, y'know, good? Please let me know in the comments), but it was entertaining.
I won't miss Ryan or Graham much, to tell you the truth, but I'm glad that Yas is sticking around. It's sad how the execrable years with Moffat at the helm make the new regime seem quite a bit more than mediocre.
And maybe that's as good a place to stop as any.
I've paid my damned money. Let's see if I can make use of it this year!
My daughter is not punching me in the mouth, she is offering me her "empty" sleeve, so that I can blow in it, and so, "rescue" her "missing" hand from its depths.
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