30-something, she/her. Occassionally I emerge from my hibernation to dive deep into a new fandom. Mostly containing my current dc obsession over at teafourbirds. Poems I like go to seasunandstar.
Finally posting the Dinah/Ollie(/Hal) fic that lured me back into active fic posting after a hiatus of more than a decade:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Unfortunately for Hal, it turns out that most of being a gladiator is sitting around in your prison cell with your two stupidly-in-love best friends and nothing to do but all the personal introspection you’ve been avoiding for most of your life.
Minnesota is calling for a US wide general strike tommorow and many labour leaders have agreed. You are not hearing about this because the news is refusing to report on thus. Americans, if you are not participating, please at the very least do not spend (if possible) tommorow
There really really ought to be a book about how the staple crops of different civilizations shape and influence those civilizations, and I really want to read it.
Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky and A History of the World in 6 Glasses by Tom Standage (three are alcohol, three have caffeine) are not quite that, but may still be of interest?
I read Salt back in the day and it's so so good, second the rec. I have heard of 6 Glasses and not read it but I am sure I would probably love it. Gotta see if the library has it. Thank you!
A Short History Of The World According To Sheep by Sally Coulthard blew my mind. So many things are tied to wool and sheep and weaving and so many words and phrases are tied to wool, people have no idea.
Example words which come from textiles/weaving, if not specifically wool (go look them up!): subtle, shoddy, tabby, Brazil, rocket, twit, warped, going batty, on tenterhooks, text...
I'll throw in a rec for Pickled, Potted, and Canned by Sue Shephard - a very interesting look at food preservation and how the availability of different types of food preservation shaped cultures and cuisines.
The Lost Supper: Searching for the Future of Food in the Flavors of the Past might also be up your alley. It's about "forgotten" foods and staples. They talk about different types of wheat, sauces, veggies, etc and a little about the cultures from whence they come
DO I HAVE A SERIES FOR YOU. University of California Press has a gift for you and it is a 80+ book series on food studies. There are even some that are open access (legally free), but the rest are in libraries.
I also highly recommend Frostbite by Nicola Twilley. It’s about the impact refrigeration has had/is having on food preservation and culture, globally. It was one of my favorite books of this last year.
If you’re a USAmerican and rightfully horrified by what the government is doing right now, I just want to rq share 5calls. They have a really simple tool for finding your reps and contacting them, as well as a variety of scripts for anyone not confident speaking off book. Emails can be filtered out, phone calls, voicemails, and physical letters are much harder to ignore. Calling your reps isn’t the end all be all of anti-war action, but it’s a place to start while you process what the fuck just happened.
Spend 5 minutes. Make 5 calls. Make your voice heard.
I’m writing scenes which are good, and I don’t know where they are going to fit in the book. But it’s what I call ‘The Valley Filled With Clouds’ technique. You’re at the edge of the valley, and there is a church steeple, and there is a tree, and there is a rocky outcrop, but the rest of it is mist. But you know that because they exist, there must be ways of getting from one to the other that you cannot see. And so you start the journey. And when I write, I write a draft entirely for myself, just to walk the valley and find out what the book is going to be all about.
-- Terry Pratchett - A Slip Of The Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction
Google has once again force-enabled AI into everyone. Get rid of that shit by:
Go to your Gmail account.
Choose "See all settings."
Scroll down under the "General" tab until you see "Google Workspace smart features."
Select "Manage Workspace smart feature settings."
Toggle off both "smart features in Google Workplace" and "smart features in other Google products." This will not remove the stupid Gemini button, but it should disable it.
If you have more than one Gmail account on your app, you have to do this for all account indiviudally. You go to settings→[nnn]@gmail→manage workspace smart features
There's actually two different AI settings to turn off for Gmail. There are the settings that are under 'Google Workplace Smart features', and there's an additional one above it just called 'Smart Features'.
Turning off the settings under the 'Google Workplace Smart Features' doesn't seem to affect your inbox. But if you turn off that top 'Smart Features' option, you can no longer use the different inbox categories that Gmail would default sort emails to.
With Smart Features enabled:
With Smart Features Disabled:
It's really shitty that they've tied those inbox categories into the AI stuff. I turned Smart Features off, and now my phone is being inundated with notifications for a lot of the emails that would have gone in those categories. Previously, I would only get notifications for emails that end up in the main inbox when my notification settings were set to 'All'.
There is a way to create your own sorting labels (like the one I'd been using for Dracula Daily in the screenshot above), but they don't quite work the same way as the inbox categories. If you create a label, you'll be able to view only the emails you set to be categorized underneath it, but those emails will still show up underneath the main inbox, too.
Say you create a new 'Social' label for social media notifications to replace the Social category Inbox. If you click the 'Social' label, you would see all the emails that are filtered to go there, in addition to those same emails showing up in the main inbox. With the inbox categories enabled (and now AI features too), you would only see social emails in the Social inbox, and they would not show up under the main inbox, nor would you get notifications for them by default.
If you do want to go the label route and create your own, here's a link on how to do so. It can be done using a computer or through the Apple apps, but it won't work in the Android app (which makes zero sense to me).
To organize your emails into categories like “Work,” “Family,” or “To-Do,” you can create labels in Gmail. Labels are different from folders
There might be a way to play with the app notification settings so they're more filtered, but from what I see initially, it's not promising.
If you were relying on 'Important First' sorting for your inbox or 'High Priority Only' for notification settings, those are disabled when the AI feature is disabled as well.
(I can edit this later to add alt ids to the images when I'm not on my phone)
Thank you so much for this detailed addition, this change has been pretty enraging. The inbox categories had nothing to do with AI, but they've combined them to make your experience worse for no reason.
I'm so glad they got Ted Chiang -- a wonderful writer of science fiction and thinker about technology, in my opinion -- to write this essay. My favorite line was this:
Generative A.I. appeals to people who think they can express themselves in a medium without actually working in that medium.
I have such a vivid memory of reading the death of Robin Hood as a kid in my grandmother's attic, scrunched up on a little cot under the eaves, all covered in tears and snot. It was Howard Pyle "Merry Adventures of Robin Hood" (which predates Paul Creswick's "Adventures of Robin Hood", the source of this illustration, by about 40 years). It's such a lively, adventure-full book, full of comradely and hijinks and falling into rivers, and I was completely unprepared when I came to the Epilogue. Here is the Howard Pyle illustration, for comparison:
Almost thirty years later and I still remember how absolutely it gutted me:
All that livelong day the blood ran from Robin Hood's arm, nor could he check it, though he strove in every way to do so. Again and again he called for help, but no help came, for his cousin had betrayed him, and Little John was too far away to hear his voice. So he bled and bled until he felt his strength slipping away from him. Then he arose, tottering, and bearing himself up by the palms of his hands against the wall, he reached his bugle horn at last. Thrice he sounded it, but weakly and faintly, for his breath was fluttering through sickness and loss of strength; nevertheless, Little John heard it where he lay in the glade, and, with a heart all sick with dread, he came running and leaping toward the nunnery. Loudly he knocked at the door, and in a loud voice shouted for them to let him in, but the door was of massive oak, strongly barred, and studded with spikes, so they felt safe, and bade Little John begone.
Then Little John's heart was mad with grief and fear for his master's life. Wildly he looked about him, and his sight fell upon a heavy stone mortar, such as three men could not lift nowadays. Little John took three steps forward, and, bending his back, heaved the stone mortar up from where it stood deeply rooted. Staggering under its weight, he came forward and hurled it crashing against the door. In burst the door, and away fled the frightened nuns, shrieking, at his coming. Then Little John strode in, and never a word said he, but up the winding stone steps he ran till he reached the room wherein his master was. Here he found the door locked also, but, putting his shoulder against it, he burst the locks as though they were made of brittle ice.
There he saw his own dear master leaning against the gray stone wall, his face all white and drawn, and his head swaying to and fro with weakness. Then, with a great, wild cry of love and grief and pity, Little John leaped forward and caught Robin Hood in his arms. Up he lifted him as a mother lifts her child, and carrying him to the bed, laid him tenderly thereon.
[...] Little John spake cheering words, laughing loudly, and saying that all this was a child's fright, and that no stout yeoman would die at the loss of a few drops of blood. "Why," quoth he, "give thee a se'ennight and thou wilt be roaming the woodlands as boldly as ever."
But Robin shook his head and smiled faintly where he lay. "Mine own dear Little John," whispered he, "Heaven bless thy kind, rough heart. But, dear friend, we will never roam the woodlands together again."
"Ay, but we will!" quoth Little John loudly. "I say again, ay—out upon it—who dares say that any more harm shall come upon thee? Am I not by? Let me see who dares touch"—Here he stopped of a sudden, for his words choked him.
[...] Then a silence fell, and Little John sat with Robin Hood's hand in his, gazing out of the open window, ever and anon swallowing a great lump that came in his throat. Meantime the sun dropped slowly to the west, till all the sky was ablaze with a red glory. Then Robin Hood, in a weak, faltering voice, bade Little John raise him that he might look out once more upon the woodlands; so the yeoman lifted him in his arms, as he bade, and Robin Hood's head lay on his friend's shoulder. Long he gazed, with a wide, lingering look, while the other sat with bowed head, the hot tears rolling one after another from his eyes, and dripping upon his bosom, for he felt that the time of parting was near at hand.
Then, presently, Robin Hood bade him string his stout bow for him, and choose a smooth fair arrow from his quiver. This Little John did, though without disturbing his master or rising from where he sat. Robin Hood's fingers wrapped lovingly around his good bow, and he smiled faintly when he felt it in his grasp, then he nocked the arrow on that part of the string that the tips of his fingers knew so well. "Little John," said he, "Little John, mine own dear friend, and him I love better than all others in the world, mark, I prythee, where this arrow lodges, and there let my grave be digged. Lay me with my face toward the East, Little John, and see that my resting place be kept green, and that my weary bones be not disturbed."
As he finished speaking, he raised himself of a sudden and sat upright. His old strength seemed to come back to him, and, drawing the bowstring to his ear, he sped the arrow out of the open casement. As the shaft flew, his hand sank slowly with the bow till it lay across his knees, and his body likewise sank back again into Little John's loving arms; but something had sped from that body, even as the winged arrow sped from the bow.
For some minutes Little John sat motionless, but presently he laid that which he held gently down, then, folding the hands upon the breast and covering up the face, he turned upon his heel and left the room without a word or a sound.
Upon the steep stairway he met the Prioress and some of the chief among the sisters. To them he spoke in a deep, quivering voice, and said he, "An ye go within a score of feet of yonder room, I will tear down your rookery over your heads so that not one stone shall be left upon another. Bear my words well in mind, for I mean them." So saying, he turned and left them, and they presently saw him running rapidly across the open, through the falling of the dusk, until he was swallowed up by the forest.
The early gray of the coming morn was just beginning to lighten the black sky toward the eastward when Little John and six more of the band came rapidly across the open toward the nunnery. [...] Up the stone stair they ran, and a great sound of weeping was presently heard. After a while this ceased, and then came the scuffling and shuffling of men's feet as they carried a heavy weight down the steep and winding stairs. So they went forth from the nunnery, and, as they passed through the doors thereof, a great, loud sound of wailing arose from the glade that lay all dark in the dawning, as though many men, hidden in the shadows, had lifted up their voices in sorrow.
-- The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire, as Written & Illustrated by Howard Pyle
