I am such a mammal...
Nov. 16th, 2008 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfs"Munchkins," I murmured, my mind a-doze in post-coital bliss.
"That's right," Omaha said.
We were lying together, sweaty bodies stuck together, catching our breath. I'm not sure why the answer chose to bubble up to the top of my head just then-- we'd been talking the day before about the four categories of game players: "Real Men, Real Roleplayers, Loonies and... ?" but neither of us could remember. There's something about really good lovemaking that makes my mind work better, but what was so reassuring was that she knew instantly what I was talking about, and affirmed it. She complains that she needs me to give her context more often, but moments like this remind us both that she's more often on my wavelength than not.
Omaha and I continued the day by heading up to attend Tina Orwall's victory brunch. It was hosted at Salty's on Alki, which was pretty impressive considering the crowd. Salty's is simply the most outrageous brunch in town. There were oysters, crabs, shrimp, an omelet chef, prime rib, bacon, eggs in multiple incarnations, a simply unbelievable amount of food. This is one of those places that exists to pretend the whole world isn't going to Hell in a handbasket.
We ate and drank and had a great time. I asked Tina what I ought to do about the website, and she thinks we ought to park it until the next time around. I ate so much food that it put me into a coma when I got home. I'm such a mammal. Enough sex and enough food, and the knowledge that my cave is secure, and I'm completely ready for sleep.
So Omaha and I napped, and I finished Blindsight for the second time. That is such a loathesome book you don't want to ever read it again; it contains so much brilliant thinking that you can't help but read it a second time.
Other than that, nothing happened. I did laundry. I cleaned up the kitchen. Kouryou-chan and I played a vicious game of Stratego, and then Omaha joined us for a round of Sorry. Omaha let Kouryou-chan play Spore for an hour while she and I walked to the grocery store for milk and breakfasty things and such. I wrote my brief essay thinking about Kirk and Conservatism; I could round it out with examples and I probably should; I could submit it to some magazine somewhere. I doubt anyone would care. But it's been bugging me: how does Kirk's conservatism stand up to our modern awareness of functional neurology? How will it survive the coming tidal wave of special self-awareness-- not just the "this is what I am" awareness than so few have, but "this is the physical structure that make that, and I could fix it this way."
"That's right," Omaha said.
We were lying together, sweaty bodies stuck together, catching our breath. I'm not sure why the answer chose to bubble up to the top of my head just then-- we'd been talking the day before about the four categories of game players: "Real Men, Real Roleplayers, Loonies and... ?" but neither of us could remember. There's something about really good lovemaking that makes my mind work better, but what was so reassuring was that she knew instantly what I was talking about, and affirmed it. She complains that she needs me to give her context more often, but moments like this remind us both that she's more often on my wavelength than not.
Omaha and I continued the day by heading up to attend Tina Orwall's victory brunch. It was hosted at Salty's on Alki, which was pretty impressive considering the crowd. Salty's is simply the most outrageous brunch in town. There were oysters, crabs, shrimp, an omelet chef, prime rib, bacon, eggs in multiple incarnations, a simply unbelievable amount of food. This is one of those places that exists to pretend the whole world isn't going to Hell in a handbasket.
We ate and drank and had a great time. I asked Tina what I ought to do about the website, and she thinks we ought to park it until the next time around. I ate so much food that it put me into a coma when I got home. I'm such a mammal. Enough sex and enough food, and the knowledge that my cave is secure, and I'm completely ready for sleep.
So Omaha and I napped, and I finished Blindsight for the second time. That is such a loathesome book you don't want to ever read it again; it contains so much brilliant thinking that you can't help but read it a second time.
Other than that, nothing happened. I did laundry. I cleaned up the kitchen. Kouryou-chan and I played a vicious game of Stratego, and then Omaha joined us for a round of Sorry. Omaha let Kouryou-chan play Spore for an hour while she and I walked to the grocery store for milk and breakfasty things and such. I wrote my brief essay thinking about Kirk and Conservatism; I could round it out with examples and I probably should; I could submit it to some magazine somewhere. I doubt anyone would care. But it's been bugging me: how does Kirk's conservatism stand up to our modern awareness of functional neurology? How will it survive the coming tidal wave of special self-awareness-- not just the "this is what I am" awareness than so few have, but "this is the physical structure that make that, and I could fix it this way."
