Incredibly NOT SAFE for work…

But the first thirty seconds or so of this sample clip from a longer piece of porn was startlingly hilarious. Wrong, but funny. Also: I am always amused when I see props in porn that I recognize (i.e. a painting on the wall/duvet cover from IKEA, etc), and I occasionally see things that I actually want — in this case, the neat dot-print blanket on the bed. Also also: yeah, I AM easily distracted. I promise I’m less-so in person, though.

Also also also: research isn’t always this entertaining.

At least one of my senators Doesn’t Get It.

So I wrote to my congress people, and I got a nicely vague, waffley letter back from one of them. I know he’s just trying to keep everyone happy, but I don’t WANT vague and waffley, I want him to tell me he’s going to vote against the damn bill. Otherwise, it feels entirely too much like he’s just trying to keep me soothed and placated while he’s planning on voting FOR it.

Dude. I don’t want the internet to become TV. I don’t want to live in fear that some fuckwit griefer is gonna come across my site and decide to use SOPA/PIPA to fuck with me, just because they fucking CAN. Given what I write, it’s waaaaaay too likely that someone will use SOPA/PIPA to keep my stories offline.

I don’t want to see hundreds of thousands of forums, of stories, of creative and brilliant people to just disappear. Believe it or not, but someone has pirated First Flight — it turned up on ebookr.com, and I was both somewhat excited (someone thought it was worth stealing!) and annoyed (hey, someone stole First Flight! and the blurb, straight off Dreamspinner’s site…). I sent off a DMCA notice, and they, to their credit, responded appropriately. (In fact, they responded so quickly and politely that I’m seriously considering uploading a couple of my free reads.)

Do I spend hours of my day, trolling pirate sites, looking for anything of mine? No. If someone posts about a pirate site to one of the many mailing lists I’m on, I’ll go take a look, but until ebookr, I’d never found anything of mine. It’s not like it matters to people who pirate stuff — they’re gonna do it no matter what the law says. I’ll poke at pirates if I find them, but in general it’s not like it matters in the grand scheme of my writing life. Hell, at least they’re NOT trying to scrub my presence from the web — pretty much the opposite.

SOPA/PIPA are the antithesis of pirate sites in that regard. It wouldn’t affect the pirates at all, but it could–would–affect ME in a big way. Yeah, it would be nice if we could keep people from stealing stuff, but that’s just not going to happen. The internet is the best thing to happen to my life: it has brought me friends, it has expanded my horizons, it has allowed me to learn things I never would have even known I WANTED to learn. I want my internet to stay pretty much exactly the way it is, full of the sparkling dizzying array of wonder that is humanity. With SOPA/PIPA in place, the internet will likely become TV: catering to the lowest common denominator; run by people who think Jersey Shore and Desperate Housewives and I don’t even know what insipid sitcoms are on these days are what *I* want. I come to the internet to get AWAY from that crap, because no one asks me what *I* want — and it sure as hell isn’t THAT.

Resurfacing!

As in “coming up for air”, not as in “putting a new surface on”.

I’m still alive, and I’ve even managed to start some new things! This is of course to make up for all of the things from last year that I never finished. All three hundred and twenty-seven of them.

I’ve decided that my only goal for 2012 is to keep writing and to avoid being killed in traffic, since I’m seriously bad at doing anything else.

The holidays were… Odd. Not bad, just kind of weird. I’m annoyed with myself for not managing to finish my naga-boys story. Maybe next year.

I hope everyone else had happy and delightful holidays, and that your new year is full of good things.

…and now I’m going back to hibernating until this cold snap goes away. Or spring, whichever comes first.