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Hello friends and colleagues, I am looking for recommendations for people or resources for a workshop on academic writing. Have you experienced good ones? Are you such a person who does such work? EU/UK located folks preferred.

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Boudart, Laurence. Martine : une aventurière du quotidien. Les impressions nouvelles, 2021. (Coll. La fabrique des héros)

Un livre qui bat en brèche de nombreux clichés liés à ce personnage phare de la littérature jeunesse qu'est Martine. Souvent résumée à une vision traditionnaliste du monde, Martine est en fait plus complexe et a évolué avec son temps. L'occasion de redécouvrir sous un nouveau jour l'héroïne de Marlier.

Podcast : Deuil. Trauma. Mh. 

Les Éclaireurs: Reconstruire et se reconstruire

Ce samedi 23 avril 2022, les invité.e.s de Fabienne Vande Meerssche (@fvandemeerssche) dans LES ECLAIREURS sont Fabian Balthazart, docteur en Art et Sciences de l’Art, professeur à ARTS² et au Conservatoire royal de Liège, chargé de cour au LAM (ULB) et spécialiste de la musique baroque et du langage musical du XVIIIème siècle ; il travaille notamment à la reconstruction d’œuvres musicales & Emmanuelle Zech, docteure en psychologie, professeure ordinaire à l’UCLouvain où elle dirige son laboratoire de recherches (PCLab) ; elle participe actuellement à une étude internationale et pluridisciplinaire qui porte sur l’impact de la pandémie de covid sur les pratiques funéraires et le processus de deuil.

Une discussion très intéressante sur les rites sociétaux et les pratiques individuelles qui participe à la reconstruction avec un trauma tel que le deuil. Remet en question certaines idées reçues bien implantées.

Errr… I have apparently forgotten the root password of some computers at work…

I guess that's a consequence of not shelving them for 2+ years.

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This Is the Data Facebook Gave Police to Prosecute a Teenager for Abortion

Cancel it. Delete your account. Help your friends delete theirs. Abandon that dumpster fire.

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(Continued; 2/2)

ActivityPub Four Years Later: The Good, the Bad, and the Fedi: (with our good friend @rolltime!)

Demoscene 2022: Electric Boogaloo:

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Sujet estival en ces temps de migration vacancières. Je ne roule plus qu'à 110 km/h depuis pas mal de temps sur autoroute.
Un peu de science sur le sujet
Renvoyons nos élus à l'école ?

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fedi music weirdos, i've been out of the loop for a while; give me some fresh recommendations

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Fediblock candidate? 

Just got followed by - appears to aggregate toots and post them to a feed on the home site, which is maybe search/analytics enabled. Looks creepy.

Also, what the heck is with the logo, which looks fashy?

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Passer de 130 km/h à 110 km/h sur autoroute économise pas moins d'un quart de l'essence.

"Du fait que les frottements aérodynamiques dépendent du carré de la vitesse, une diminution de vitesse de 15% engendre une diminution de consommation de 25%."

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The collectors and scholars brought their pristine first editions and their rare volumes to the author.

But a young reader made their way to the front of the signing.

They timidly placed their book in front of it's author. They felt embarresment and immediate regret. It wasn't gilded like the other books, or uncommon or special like the others'.

The reader pulled their hand away from their third-hand, dog-eared, fifteenth edition copy of the book.

But the author for first time piqued up. They opened the book and signed it.

The young reader quietly tried to apologize, "It's not valuable..."

The author reassured the reader:

"Those other tomes...

they are prized only in being untouched. They are like flawless gems, like every other valuable jewel. But this.."

The author handed over the signed book with all the reverence and care in the world.

"This book is priceless because of your love."

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"You have freed me," the genie said. "As a reward, I shall grant you an obligation."
"Thanks, that's- Don't you mean 'wish'?"
"Would you consider it as carefully, were I to call it a 'wish'?"
#MicroFiction #TootFic #SmallStories

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we can make a better world, if you try 

being a particularly curmudgeonly anarchist means that your guilt doesn't rule me either.

What great irony of anarchy, that so many anarchists let other leftists tell them what they should be and what they should feel bad about.

No point in letting the state continue to control me and my life through fear, even being afraid of the state itself.

It's made up of people, too.

There was a thing that I never could reconcile; what good is casting off the chains of the state, then turning around and waging a war, whose goal is to end wars, end bloodshed? The hypocrisy always struck me as particularly inescapable.

Shine a light on my hypocrisy, so that we may face towards it together instead of facing away and lashing out at the light of truth.

My truth: All those problems? They can probably be solved without violence.

Those problems of violence? They too, can probably be solved without violence.

But only if we try.

And keep trying.

The hypocrisy that stuck out the most to me, over and over: it seems paradoxical to believe that a world without violence can be achieved through violence.

Once the last of the supposed violent enemies are gone, what are we left with? A whole society of people who only understand how to solve problems with violence.

Then what? All the fighters will simultaneously set down their weapons and teach themselves the arts of peace?

Here's another truth, one that I bet a lot of folks aren't going to want to hear: Everyone has a reason for being the way they are. If you understand it, if you can understand them, you have a chance at helping them change who they are.

To those who would argue back in frustration "so you're saying that we should just sit down and have a chat with all the fascists and cops?"

Should? Oh I'll never be one to tell other people what they should do.

But yes, I think it's possible. How else can anyone's mind be changed? Very seldom will someone change their mind about something without a good deep conversation about it.

And after all, what is the alternative? Killing them all? Because you don't think it's possible to change their mind, and you think they'll never stop being a danger to you? There's that prickly hypocrisy again. What do you think they think about you, if not the very same thing?

I know what it's like to feel like a monster, to feel irredeemable. To feel like only monsters could possibly accept me, because not even I can accept me.

Luckily for me, those who I saw as monsters were the kindest most welcoming people I'd met in a while.

But what happens when people who feel like monsters turn to the actual monsters to find their place? They find a home among the monsters who tell them that being a monster is who they are, and they can never be anything or anyone better, so they must embrace it, and destroy anyone who says they can be any different, because those people are attempting to take away their identity, when identity is the only thing they have left to them.

If you've ever felt like a monster, and come back, you are one of the few who could have any hope of truly showing other people, who have let themselves be consumed by monstrosity, what is truly possible.

Not succeeding isn't a failure. Not succeeding is very simply the status quo of every moment before success is reached.

Failure is what you decide it is, and you can decide your own failure conditions.

You can decide to have no failure conditions.

I keep going, and I've decided for myself, that whatever failure is, I haven't failed.

My identity cannot be taken away, because I am what I love, not what other people will let me love.

I love community, I love hope. I love today.

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"Wow. You have a lot of books. It's like a library!"
"You think so?"
"Yeah! So do you have a secret door hidden in the book cases?"
"Only books, I'm afraid."
"But some books are."
"Are what?"
"Secret doors, leading to awesome places."
"Cool! Can you show me?"
"I'd love to!"
#MicroFiction #TootFic #SmallStories

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What's the strangest thing you've ever found in a book?

Here's my story...

About 20 years ago or so, I was at a Salvation Army auction one morning. They were selling of tons (literally) of junk they'd had donated to them over the last few years or so; stuff that wasn't easily sold in their actual stores. A lot of it was good stuff, too.

One thing that immediately caught my eye was a pallet (6' high, 4' wide X 4' wide) of nothing but boxed up hardcover books. I looked through some of the books in the top boxes and realized that there were some very old, and often valuable, books in this boxes. I decided I'd bid on it a bit and see where it goes.

The auctioneer kept bringing up lot after lot, but not the pallet of books. I was getting impatient by the time the morning wore on. Finally, when he'd pretty much sold everything that was in the yard back there that morning, he brought up the pallet of books. There was only a small crowd of folks left by then (about 20 or so). He described the contents of the pallet briefly by saying, "Here you go, folks... a bunch of books".

He looked around at the faces in the crowd and said, "I'm opening the bidding at one dollar." I about shit myself. I bid the $1 immediately to get things rolling. Well, after I bid, he looked around and said, "Once, twice, sold that man there for $1." I just laughed... and wondered how the Hell I was going to get this pallet home and what I was going to do with all those books.

When I asked the auctioneer afterwards why he'd let it go so cheaply, he said, "Did you see anyone trampling you to get in a bid?" I said no, I didn't. His reply, with a smirk on his face, was, "Gotta' know your audience in this job."

Well, needless to say, I got the books home and spent a few years going through them and selling some, giving some away, etc. However, that's not the point of this story. The point was finding things in books. So, with that in mind...

There were quite a few books in this collection that had the name of a fellow in them. His name was Charles Lounsbury. He was evidently a well-educated man; many of his books were text books from Cornell University. Anyway, whilst thumbing through one of them one day, a small business card fell out into my lap. It was a dentist's appointment card for Mr. Lounsbury. It also had his address and phone number on it.

Just for grins and giggles, I called the number on the card. An older-sounding man answered on the first ring. I said "Hello" and gave my name. I then asked the fellow if he was Charles Lounsbury. He said he was indeed. I told him about all the books I'd bought and how I had found this dentist appointment card in one of them. He was BLOWN AWAY immediately upon hearing about the books.

He told me that his sister had possession of his personal library at the time of her death, but he had not spoken with her in many years. When she died, it seems that someone cleaning out her house had donated all her possessions, including Charles' books, to the Salvation Army. Mr Lounsbury was very interested in possibly seeing his books again. He was wanting to leave some of them to his grandchildren upon his demise.

I made a date for him to drive from Sarasota, FL up to my home in Tampa and take whichever of his books he wanted back. The following Saturday he showed up. He was absolutely amazed to find all his books in the middle of my living room (huge stack of books, here's a sampling):

Anyway, he picked out 10 of 15 of his prized books and asked if he could take them. I, of course, said yes... for sure. After that we sat and had some coffee and he told me his life story. It was a wonderful afternoon! Charles and I became pretty good friends after that for about 10 or so years, until his death at age 88.

It's amazing, sometimes, the things you find in books. :)

*This posting previously published on my blog:

Nocturnal Slacker v2.0 | Letters to the void…

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For the 3rd time this year, I've had to reboot the refrigerator. This is some bullshit.

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Adult [ uh-duhlt, ad-uhlt ]
1. A collection of irreparable traumas.

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We haven't been talking about restoring the future enough.

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A bunch of technomancers in the fediverse. This arcology is for all who wash up upon it's digital shore.