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Feb. 11th, 2026 07:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormThere was an American style mass school shooting in tumbler ridge, a small BC town, yesterday.
People have also been very upset about a bunch of gross stuff released through the Epstein files.
In Gaza they have devices that burn hot enough to destroy the corpses of the people they kill, another step away from us ever knowing.
At least in Iran there will be mass graves to dig up later.
When you look at the genes of humans you can see that, long ago near what might be the beginning of homo sapiens -- that date is a target that recedes into the past every time we learn something, so -- they're was a very small population bottleneck where very few breeding adults survived. A couple thousand.
When you read even just Agatha Christie's stories set in post-WW2 Britain it's clear that kind of post-apoc small-group-starting-over fantasy of the world being cleansed after mass death isn't a useful one.
I expect that even with only a thousand humans left we'd find ways to harden into groups, to find it tasteless to appreciate or mourn *them* because *we* were having so much trouble. Well, they would. I would not survive that kind of a population reduction, of course. Statistically no one would.
Movement helps so I stacked wood, I'm through 2/3 cords split and stacked for next winter, but now I can barely move or think. Whiskey comes and snuggles and helps a great deal. But still, now that I've been in bed a few days, I can feel interest in the future evaporating. I don't really have interest in planting tomato seeds.
I think that's the meds wearing off and my ovaries waking up and pumping goo into my mood signals. The goo always wants to convince me that the external world justifies it. Two days ago I was convinced everyone thought I was a super inconvenience and would be annoyed by any reminder I existed. Yesterday was less that and more a nagging feeling I was forgetting to do something very important that I should feel guilty for not having done yet. Lucky for me both feelings were familiar enough that I could place them as ovary-goo related, though that still *feels* incorrect.
There's gonna be a lot of transphobia on the Canadian Internet today. I guess people are already posting pictures of gender-whatever folks from tumbler ridge saying they did it, absent any information. I can't do pottery all day and I'm out of Agatha Christie, and not there-enough to read much else. I do wish more of my comfort reads were audiobooks at the library.
Maybe I should sort through this year's seeds anyhow.
People have also been very upset about a bunch of gross stuff released through the Epstein files.
In Gaza they have devices that burn hot enough to destroy the corpses of the people they kill, another step away from us ever knowing.
At least in Iran there will be mass graves to dig up later.
When you look at the genes of humans you can see that, long ago near what might be the beginning of homo sapiens -- that date is a target that recedes into the past every time we learn something, so -- they're was a very small population bottleneck where very few breeding adults survived. A couple thousand.
When you read even just Agatha Christie's stories set in post-WW2 Britain it's clear that kind of post-apoc small-group-starting-over fantasy of the world being cleansed after mass death isn't a useful one.
I expect that even with only a thousand humans left we'd find ways to harden into groups, to find it tasteless to appreciate or mourn *them* because *we* were having so much trouble. Well, they would. I would not survive that kind of a population reduction, of course. Statistically no one would.
Movement helps so I stacked wood, I'm through 2/3 cords split and stacked for next winter, but now I can barely move or think. Whiskey comes and snuggles and helps a great deal. But still, now that I've been in bed a few days, I can feel interest in the future evaporating. I don't really have interest in planting tomato seeds.
I think that's the meds wearing off and my ovaries waking up and pumping goo into my mood signals. The goo always wants to convince me that the external world justifies it. Two days ago I was convinced everyone thought I was a super inconvenience and would be annoyed by any reminder I existed. Yesterday was less that and more a nagging feeling I was forgetting to do something very important that I should feel guilty for not having done yet. Lucky for me both feelings were familiar enough that I could place them as ovary-goo related, though that still *feels* incorrect.
There's gonna be a lot of transphobia on the Canadian Internet today. I guess people are already posting pictures of gender-whatever folks from tumbler ridge saying they did it, absent any information. I can't do pottery all day and I'm out of Agatha Christie, and not there-enough to read much else. I do wish more of my comfort reads were audiobooks at the library.
Maybe I should sort through this year's seeds anyhow.
