everything i do is so fucking amazing that sparks are going to shoot out of your eyes

Category: Uncategorized

How to Get Away With Harassment



This is based on a riff by @evilrooster.

Image description: Red and black text on a white background. Layout and design is a pastiche of the cover for Joanna Russ’s classic nonfiction work, How to Suppress Women’s Writing. (WHICH, incidentally, is getting an ebook version next year: Amazon link.

The text in the image reads:

(Large, red): I didn’t do that.

(Small, black): But if it’s clear I did the deed…

(Large, red): I did it, but it wasn’t harassment.

(Small, black): (It was only a compliment, a look, a hug, an innocent question.)

(Large, red): I did it, but look who I was doing it to.

(Small, black): (They’re a slut, poly, fat, sexy, kinky, easy, queer!)

(Large, red): I did it, but only once, to one person.

(Small, black): (I was led on, and anyway should my whole life be ruined by one mistake?)

(Large, red): I did it, but I’m not a harasser, and accusations hurt.

(Small, black): (Don’t you see how hard I’m taking it? Isn’t my apology enough? Forgive me!)

(Large, red): I did it, but others were doing it, too.

(Small, black): (It’s locker room talk, don’t be so sensitive. Nobody else has a problem with it.)

(Large, red): I did it, but it’s my very own personal weakness.

(Small, black): (It’s just one bad apple, we don’t need a whole policy…)

(Large, red): I did it, BUT…



On my own part, I retained gender-neutrality, because although cis straight men typically harass women, there are victims (and perpetrators) of all genders. And, although this came out of discussions of harassment in science fiction and fantasy circles, I resisted the urge to insert too much single-location specificity, because this is not a problem constrained to one community.

I don’t have much more to say about the piece except that these excuses (which are not even remotely comprehensive) are so common that those who have been harassed and tried to talk about it to others can recite them by heart. If you find yourself mouthing these excuses for inaction, shut your face.


2016 Awards post (*updated)

Hey all,

I’m in the middle of being slammed in the …

uh, just slammed by PhD stuff.



Anyway, last year was not terribly productive for me, but here’s what I had out to remind you if you wanted to consider them for the Hugo awards, or just to be like HEY READ MY STUFF, regardless.

Eligible short stories:

“The Road, and the Valley, and the Beasts” in Clockwork Phoenix 5

GlitterShip is eligible for *Semi-Pro Zine.

*It just occurred to me the other day that my essay in Upside Down, which was also published in Apex in December, 2016, is eligible for Best Related Work:

“Tropes As Erasers: A Transgender Perspective”


Other than that, I did pass my qualifier for grad school, so while I’m not ABD, I’m officially allowed to propose by the end of Nov 2017.


I’m not afraid of heights

I’m not afraid of heights.

Not really.


Sometimes I get nervous when I’m standing next to cliffs, or on the roofs of buildings, or near windows, or on tall rocks, or after I’ve climbed onto the shoulders of a very tall person.

Not because I think I’m going to fall (except if it’s a very fidgety tall person), but because some part of me, some little itsy-bitsy, very unscientific, very not-so-good at self-preservation part of me still doesn’t quite believe that I can’t fly.

And that itsy-bitsy, very unscientific, very not-so-good at self-preservation part of me remembers being a kid and climbing up onto my dresser, and imagining really hard what it would feel like to go flying down the hall and out the door and past the dog and over the fish ponds and the creek and EVEN over the hill and the race car track. Maybe even to Australia.

And that itsy-bitsy, very unscientific, very not-so-good at self-preservation part of me suspects, even though this is obviously not true, that the biggest reason I never actually managed to completely destroy the rules of physics was that I always put pillows on the floor for my inevitable fall. So of course I landed on them.

But I’m not really afraid of heights. I’m afraid of my lack of fear of heights and that that temptation to launch myself out into space will eventually just be too strong, but then on the other hand WHEN I’M DIVE-BOMBING PIGEONS I’LL BE THE ONE LAUGHING, ASSHOLES.

I think if you pretend that this is an extended metaphor for art or something, I sound less alarmingly unhinged.

Moving to WordPress

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