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Meghalayan Days

September 6, 2026September 6, 2026 Liz Henry

From my years working at the Geology Library at the University of Texas (for Dennis Trombatore, a wonderful person, R.I.P.) I have a smattering of knowledge in the area. Aside from hiding in the stacks reading fascinating and fusty old books (as we all did) I took some classes and then got a bit obsessed with the Roadside Geology series of books when I lived in the Southwest. (Halka Chronic fans unite!)

Someone put a copy of “Rancho La Brea: A Record of Pleistocene Life in California” from 1949 in my little free library so I am plugging through it. It is not telling a compelling story with great writing, but I love it anyway because it is a key to all the knowledge they had at the time, systematically arranged. The book goes through the history of its discovery, the geology and stratigraphy of the area, a catalogue of all the kinds of creatures and plants found, and a beautiful bibliography and index. I have a million questions and became suddenly an absolute hound searching for tar pit facts.

The wild thing you will instantly notice is this is pre “Continental Drift” ie plate tectonics, and pre radiocarbon dating. So everything is relative ages via stratigraphy and who knows how it all happened. (A bit handwavy on how or why the climate changed for example).

People had noticed the bones in the bubbling asphalt but not really grokked that they were not just cows and coyotes and deer but were instead from the Pleistocene. (We now know they were gathering bones from around 50,000 years ago till the present.)

I was wondering what the oldest tar pits are. Still the Pleistocene, though much older than La Brea! The oldest might be the Binagadi Asphalt Lake pits in Azerbajan, at 96–120 thousand years old.

Can you extract DNA from the teeth from the tar pits? Someone has thought of this and written a neat paper! https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3936381/ (Summary: probably not.)

I remember being a bit disappointed when I heard that the proposal to start a new geologic time division for the Anthropocene (1952 – ) had failed. But I never thought to look at what changes had been accepted! OMG! So many changes! I learned the word “Eonothem“! (And will be looking for some occasion to use it.) So, I learned the more recent eras as the Cenozonic (divided into Paeleocene, Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene, Pliocene) then Quaternary ( Pliestocene, Holocene (now)). Y’all there are so many new stages in the Cenozoic! Is the whole idea of “stages” new? Help! I feel my brain itching to memorize it all. But nowadays I don’t just automatically remember new facts and would have to work at it. (Unlikely).

Anyway, we are now in the Meghalayan Age. In case you were wondering! It started around 4200 years ago, the catchily named 4.2 kiloyear event, which seems to be hotly disputed but which is also very interesting to read about!

Reading older science books can be especially mind expanding. You get a glimpse of the state of knowledge of a particular time that is otherwise hard to grasp. Maybe tomorrow I will go up on the hallway book ladder and get down some old Encyclopedia Brittanica volumes to see if there is an article on the tarpits. I can’t remember if I have the 11th edition or the 12th.

(It is the 11th, in 1911, and Rancho Labrea is mentioned in the Los Angeles entry as containing the Salt Lake Oil Fields – nothing about the tar pits .)

Tragedy of the Pokemons

August 31, 2026August 31, 2026 Liz Henry

This weekend I went to see the Pokemon drone show down at the Ferry Building, having always been curious to see a drone show. I figured in honor of the pocket monsters I would re-install Pokemon Go and play it on the bus. It’s been a few years since I played it – I started doing the crossword and other word puzzles on the bus or writing in my notebook instead of the pandemicky, avoidant haze of flinging pokeballs into the aether.

As we rode down Mission it became more and more clear to me that this was not just a drone show. We were surrounded by Pokemon people. Finally I realized it was a 50,000 person convention or the World Championships or something. Cosplay! Pikachu hats! People with little stuffed pokemons perched on their shoulders with magnets, like Teto the fox-squirrel riding on Nausicaa! Little kids with a million pokemon charms on their pokebackpacks!

It was very festive, and I filled out my Pokedex with some new creatures.

There behind the Ferry Building half an hour or so before the show, I pulled out my handkerchief to blow my nose and somehow inhaled a huge piece of woolly pocket lint. Oh, my fucking god. I could barely breathe. Years of asthma practice are probably what saved me as I know how to sip in just a tiny bit of air without panicking while in classic tripod position. But I also couldn’t stop violent coughing. Pieces of lint flew out. But not all of it. I could not speak. Like it took me about 10 min to just croak out, “cant… talk”. I was crying. I vomited a little at least twice, desperately trying to miss my own feet and wheelchair footplate. Thank god it was dark!!! Danny and my nephew rallied round me unable to really help but it was comforting that they were there.

Usually I go everywhere with a giant backpack full of crap and I also have a policy to always have water with me in case there is an earthquake and I am trapped in the BART tunnel, but somehow, this evening I didn’t have any of that. In one of my emergency pouches hanging off the wheelchair though, I had an inhaler and a different inhaler and some narcan and some nasal AND injectable epinephrine. (Also basic first aid!) About 5 albuterols later I was able to stop the violent coughing. (If I had remembered the epinephrine, I would have done it.) The weird waspy buzz of drones began and I think the excitement of DRONE SHOW gave me a free adrenaline boost.

I’m so happy not to have died under an enormous, creepy, glowing Charizard!

The drone show was neat. It was big, and dramatic, though I missed the loudness and smell of fireworks. It seemed very short so I guess the drones have limited battery time. I probably won’t make much effort to see another one unless/until the technology improves a lot and there are thousands of drones creeping me the fuck out as I imagine they are about to start shooting us all down.

The bus ride home was SO entertaining as two women in front of me were deep in the lore of the giant conference. They both live the pokemon fan lifestyle, with the games, the cards, the outfits and cosplay, the collecting all the pins and water bottles and tote bags you line up for at the events, and the tournaments and conferences! One was here from Hawaii and I think the other (in home made Gengar outfit!) was local. I assumed they knew each other but 3 stops before I got off, they exchanged names. Hahahah! Very cute.

I then uninstalled POkemon Go. It takes up too much space and I don’t need the anesthetizing.

I was physically very uncomfortable even after I got home. I was blowing 427 on my peak flow meter (when it could even register – it kept failing from the coughs.) Usually I blow around the 560s or 570s. So that didn’t feel great and my chest also hurt like fuck and i could hear the wheezing of breathing out via gross, fucked up, inhaled lint stuck deep somewhere in my bronchial tubes. I took a ton of guaifenesin and drank several mugs of lemon tea with honey. Finally around 11pm, something loosened and a lot of the pain as if something were STUCK, lessened and I was able to sleep.

I spent Sunday unable to talk much, as my throat or airway was so fucked up from coughing. There was, and is, still something stuck in there which I realize puts me at risk for pneumonia. Will watch out to make sure that all is normal (ie monitoring my air flow and will take my temperature every night.) Today I feel pretty ok, I’m normally active, I worked from home and did 3 meetings, and now am minimizing talking, which is why I’m typing instead out of frustration. I am back to a normal peak flow, though my chest hurts and my throat still feels bad.

The story is just funny and dumb enough that I wanted to tell it!

Unsexist General!

August 17, 2026 Liz Henry

I meant to come back to say that the Sector General books about the giant space station hospital (and interstellar ambulance) actually IMPROVED past book 6 or 7. That’s rare for a long running series !

And the women’s brains just can’t handle the top job thing was undone, both from alien and human women deciding it was bullshit! I think something in the 70s or early 80s happened and James White had a change of heart. Someone gave him a little talking to?!

It is lovely that he evolved – I highly approve!

Once the point of view characters started bouncing from alien to alien, the books got more interesting and White had more scope for depth! Cultures clash, people figure out how to work together across those cultures and I think you can read the entire series usefully through a disability justice lens! Whatever that means.

What I mean is that the different species, who have very different needs and abilities, work hard to accommodate each other! In a workplace and in their daily lives as well. That’s pretty exciting. It is the bit I liked the best about that one Becky Chambers novel where the dog-like alien is running a hotel.

Sexist general

May 17, 2026May 17, 2026 Liz Henry

I have been extremely busy in a good way and will be able to talk about my new project soon! In my down time I have been tearing through the Sector General books, which are just amazing!
The growing Galactic Federation realized that a huge space hospital would be a great way to prevent wars and promote inter-species relations. The space station hospital and its associated ambulance have wards and corridors for water, methane, and chlorine breathers, special food, artificial gravity, etc. This diversity means just a huge amount of accommodations necessary to support not just patients but all species to work together at the hospital, and they are dealt with matter of fact way that I appreciate (as a wheelchair user).

When they meet a new species, they ask permission to take a “tape” of one of their eminent physicians. Other species can absorb the tape, so a human can have all the knowledge (and personality) of an armored 6 legged chlorine breather who grew up on a planet with 6 times Earth gravity. It can be difficult to integrate the tape personalities, so usually everyone except Diagnosticians get the tapes erased. There are Psychologists around to help with the problems that come with Doctors who are tape sick, and convinced that they need to be rotating constantly or that they want to eat food fit only for giant caterpillars.

It is very “slice of life” feeling, with infodumps about alien physiology that I find enjoyable!

The whole point of this diverse federation is that bigotry, xenophobia, is unthinkable — a huge taboo.

But here is the kicker. Earth human women, while they work in Sector General and are smart, professional, and respected experts, cannot be Doctors or Diagnosticians. City sized cooperative flatworms, parasitic telepathic embryos, beings made of pure light, all fine to be Doctors. But women females of any species at all? Their brains just cannot handle being integrated with any other consciousness that doesn’t find them sexy. There was only a brief allusion in book 2 or 3 and it didn’t explain much, but now in book 6, Star Healer, we see Murchinson talking about how she tried to persuade the staff Psychologist to let her do Tapes. From Conway’s reply, it turns out it’s ALL females sapients:

“But you and the other female equivalents on the staff will have to continue using your brains, such as they are, unaided. It is regrettable, but you females have a deep, ineradicable and sex-based aversion, a form of hyperfastidiousness, which will not allow you to share your minds with an alien personality which is unaffected by your sexual . . . ”

(the Dot dot dot is in the original text)

What the hell! There are even genderless sapients like Dr. Prilcla, referred to as “it”! What the fuck!

There might be a level where it’s supposed to be sort of cute and sly and flirty (in a way you may be familiar with from dealing with gross old sexist men) But to me it reads as SO DESPERATE. It is prescriptive, it is trying so hard to train everyone that women just cannot handle certain things and it builds in some sort of biological NEED for the male gaze, to be objectified!

It is so sad and weird that James White who had such a gorgeous, expansive imagination, could not imagine just a little bit harder.

A toast

April 1, 2026May 12, 2026 Liz Henry

I have made a fancy cocktail called “El Presidente” with rum, dry vermouth, cointreau, grenadine, and a twist of lemon. (And a cherry for extra.) A toast to Vicky and Peter. Co-inventors of the RISC chip, and the oriental shorthair cat, among so many other things but I like those tiny touchpoints. I used their Cointreau and their fancy lead crystal coupe glasses.

The other day I did a rare post on FB. I do think about this a lot as my reference points (people) fail to communicate. Communing with (personal) ghosts becomes less meaningful as others who didn’t know them personally lose the meanings associated with their reality. Communing with parasocial, famous ghosts, like dead novelists and poets, or figures from “history” is something I’m used to. It means my head is in the clouds, I may have learned to act relatively normal but the way I actually feel is like I’m surrounded by this fog of imaginaryness, my poet’s geography. I can see now that aging is like moving further into that alien and misty world where even fewer people can share the landscape.

Had my little cup of Sightglass coffee from Alice’s memorial. It is very moving to think of her wanting her friends to share something she loved in this way. I am reminded of a friend who for 30-40 years has been pouring part of her morning coffee every day into a tiny cup for Jim and telling Jim what’s up. I don’t go that far but I do have particular places where I anchor my memories of people and say hello to them as I pass.
For Alice that is Atlas Coffee near her old place and Mint Plaza for the new. For my friend Beth Brown that is when I am in Pacifica near Crestview and I think of her books, loafing in her hot tub, her gossip about her many pet rats, all our other gossip and just her funny little face. For Eno it is any sort of picture of a hunky manly dude and also when I have some boba (OK, that’s not a geographic place but…. she was always sending me her thirsty-ass hunk pics, which aren’t my jam but it made me laugh) and I like to think of what she would have to say about our political situation. The landscape and daily life becomes more and more full of ghosts, benevolent ghosts as I get older. They enhance and deepen my life every day.
That sucks to lose people in real life but I do see how they remain present in our memories and how I will integrate that. The other trick is to keep making new beautiful friends and appreciating them to the max. I really love people!!!
Alice’s coffee is very delicious — I had it as a pourover, a french press cup, and then as filter brew and am not sure which came out best.

Bad design & mending

March 30, 2026March 30, 2026 Liz Henry

A minor complaint about a thing I just mended — a “fancy” and “heavy duty” wooden coathanger. It is the kind of wooden hanger with a wooden dowel that goes crossways, meant for pants to hang on.

Considering that it is meant to hold weight, why would you design the dowel part to fasten to the arms of the hanger via very thin, pin-sized nails that go straight up? Even if the pin were cross-ways, sunk from the arm into the dowel, the weight would at least then stress the metal itself rather than the uncertain grip of soft wood onto the slippery sides of a glorified thumbtack.

A minor annoyance but seriously why?! I hate badly designed things and how we are just primed to throw them away. Which I refuse to do.

I have fixed it for now with wood glue and rubber bands to clamp it, but might try adding a couple of very thin cross-nails if I can find one in the basement.

While I’m complaining, I’ll just add that I injured all the small toes on my right foot a few weeks ago, it’s not healed yet, but then yesterday I stepped on a 3/4 inch long thorn (on an old bougainvillea branch clipping) and had to go get a tetanus shot. They also gave me antibiotics which when I got home I realized were the specific kind linked with ankle tendinitis/tendinopathy. So no. I will wait and see if the giant lump on the bottom of my foot will just get better. I suspect the reaction there is less from infection and more from an allergic reaction since every time that plant scratches my arms during pruning I get a raised lump.

Meanwhile, I am headachy, sleepy, and exhausted from the TDaP and I can’t put my weight onto either foot properly, or wear shoes. I slept through two meetings. When I got up and decided to hang up the laundry on my “chairdrobe” like a responsible adult, the pants hanger broke.

In short –– I will be returning to bed for a long sulk and maybe a nap.

Settle down, focus, CATCH UP

February 21, 2026February 21, 2026 Liz Henry

I have been a bit overwhelmed and need to spend a good part of today catching up with all my projects and things. Inbox 829. A billionty tabs open. To-do lists in my scheduling notebook on many different post-its. A new attempt at kanban on a magnet board to go with my GitHub project kanban.

It is time to go through all of these systems, clear the decks, and feel like I know what is going on! There is steady progress everywhere, or nearly so, but sometimes things get lost and then I realize 6 months ago I got 90% done with a project and then forgot it.

Browser tabs are not a to do list! Things piled up on the sideboard of the dining room are not a to do list! And email is definitely not a to do list.

OK, I’m going in! Wish me luck!!!

Oddly vivid memories

February 5, 2026February 5, 2026 Liz Henry

This is utterly trivial, and I should be working right now, but the other day I was making dinner and had a vivid memory that haunts me a bit.

I was peeling some carrots into the sink, and thought, huh, this takes me about 10 seconds and it barely registers in my mind as a thing to do or a moment, including getting out the ergonomic peeler gadget from the drawer and cleaning the peels out of the sink to compost.

The memory that flashed into my head was of being quite small, standing on a little stool in front of the kitchen sink in our apartment in either Ithaca or Detroit, wearing an apron, clumsily gripping our rattly metal peeler in my tiny fist, and of each carrot being a sort of endless labor, and feeling proud when I could get one long strip of peel all the way down the carrot. It was so difficult and such a production. And my mom had to do more work to stage me there than it would have taken her to peel the carrots herself and she (a very quick and efficient person) is not really the most patient of people. I felt a moment of appreciation for her making space for a small child to “help” and thus to learn.

In the drawer of aprons and tablecloth I would beg to wear the fanciest apron which was a pale blue with a sort of gauzy white bit to it, in my mind, the ball gown of aprons, almost too fancy to wear for every day.

As all this flashed into my mind I tried to appreciate the present moment and my grown up (old looking!) hands capably wrangling my 3 carrots for the chicken stew and tidying it all up, done in 30 seconds.

When was the moment that I mastered such things? When do we go from struggling to competence?

I think of it as an artist and writer, and as an occasional teacher or mentor. The things I can do almost casually are real skills, which I should remember took time and practice to develop, I can have a little respect for that in myself. Once something is easy to me, I often feel like it doesn’t “count” in some way when I do it. (This doesn’t make sense but I think it’s a common feeling !) And of course remembering patience with other people and while not suppressing myself or my skills also not being an ass about it.

Repairing things

January 11, 2026January 11, 2026 Liz Henry

I have a cosy day of domesticity planned as I spent a lot of this week out of the house. Lots of mending and organizing and maybe some cooking for visiting (adult) kids.

I am kind of proud of my repair job on a gorgeous majolica-ish plate that goes under a matching pitcher, as an edge of it was nicked. Two colors of acrylic paint pen laid over each other matched the color almost exactly and my idea to do it with layers of lighter purple and darker purple on top blended it in very naturally to the two-tone glaze!

It is so satisfying to mend things!

This plate and pitcher are from M.’s parents’ house from a glass fronted cabinet of china and tchotchkes. She and Quilter also gave me basically all the hard alcohol in the house and I took various other non perishable things for myself and others. The house has been mostly uninhabited for several years. It is a sad, intense, emotional process. Less sad for me than for M and L so I can be emotional support and useful for staying on target to get things done. We took a lot of V’s spangled sequined fancy outfits to Out of the Closet yesterday and I liked imagining her (as I have probably seen photos of anyway) absolutely killing it with the fierce spangle glamor at whatever IEEE veterans’ banquet or award ceremonies they were busted out for. While V would have been like, WTF my fancy outfits are being enthusiastically worn by drag queens, I like to think in some moods she would have approved of these dresses having a new life continuing on in cosmopolitan sophistication.

LQ is downsizing her amazing and excellent book collection, and I have volunteered to adopt out these books and M’s parents’ classic math and comp sci books, by having a little free book giveaway party in my backyard once it is a little warmer and not so rainy. (Probably with nice wine from their wine cellar and snacks to make it more of a party.) It is I think less painful to downsize one’s books if you know they are going to someone who is excited to have them. This is true for me, anyway. Stay tuned for news of that if you are a local!

Later today I will cook some lentils with orichietti, very simple and hearty (and vegetarian). It can be fancied up with a little extra parmesan and of course I always have fresh parsley + oregano from the garden even if the basil is long gone.

I am still adding poems to my database and might add an importer for it today since I have at least 3 files with over a hundred poems or translations. The translations will be harder to automate so I might not focus on that. I probably want to look them over and revamp them anyway since there is a giant manuscript from early to mid 2000s that I’d make different choices on today.

For the rest of the older poems I will try to “adopt them out” somewhere and also try not to sweat it that they are not how I am writing **now**. They can be what they are.

Tomorrow will be my true going back to work (Work Work not Play Work). I will do a little support for M. as she will be in town and I may also test drive and buy her parents’ car. Not sure if the Moz gig will kick in this week; they may not have it together yet, but if it does then I can give it 2 days but am committed to an afternoon at the DCC, another afternoon working on Andrei’s project for GOAT, with EDI and friends; I have a recommendation letter to write; I need to get my monthly allergy shots and see my asthma doc; I’m spending a day taking A. shopping for clothes; I need to spend at least 2 half days on DIFxTech and have meetings scattered throughout the week. That may mean I work Saturday, which is OK for a week but not sustainable!!!

Logical steps and “eldering”

January 7, 2026January 11, 2026 Liz Henry

Rather comically I have from a fairly young age, thought forward to wanting to be “wise” and the practice of being an elder. I found some of Suzette Haden Elgin‘s ideas useful there though I think in actual practice what I took from her writing is perhaps different from both what she intended by it and how she lived it. Sometimes she exhibited that wisdom in action and sometimes she didn’t – whomst among us, etc. But we can aspire, right?! Here’s an example of guidelines she came up with:

1. An Elder almost always teaches by example.
2. An Elder gives advice only when it’s asked for, except in dire emergencies.
3. An Elder is able to stay detached.
4. An Elder is, above all, consistent.
5. An Elder is safe to be with.
6. An Elder knows how and when to listen.
7. An Elder is compassionate.
8. An Elder has “presence.”

I am not so systematic. (Waffle-headed, holographic or holistic, if you are kind)

My own mantra for putting something like ‘eldering’ into practice, is a lot more simple. It has been, “young people already respect you, they don’t want to hear you talk about yourself so much, what they want or need is for you to listen to their ideas and dreams and validate them”. If I want to talk about myself all day long, which I of course enjoy, I have THIS VERY BLOG in which to do so!!!

Like Marcus Aurelius, because of my impulses to blather on all day, I have to remind myself frequently to stfu and listen and learn from younger people. Whenever I do focus my attention on The Youth (an increasingly flexible and vast category where more and more people, oddly, belong for me), it is a great thing.

There are other underpinnings to this idea – for example I already more or less KNOW what I think and feel and am capable of getting bored with myself. But also also, I feel like if I fully “unfurl” as Danny and I describe it, I feel like I’m this enormous juggernaut and it is a bit overwhelming. (We both enjoy that we are not Too Much for each other and can fully unfurl our sails and superpowers, like vast multidimensional entities.)

If you are older you automatically have done and experienced a bunch of shit that is difficult, interesting, and long to describe! We do not want anyone younger to have the impression that:

* the important things have already happened
* you fucking missed it, you worm

No!!! You did not miss it! History is NOW! You are IT!!!!! You are IMPORTANT!!!! Pay attention to the people around you NOW because they too are IMPORTANT and you are a(n) artistic & literary & cultural SCENE!!!!

I will keep repeating this until morale improves!!!

Some years ago despite my being Extremely Young Still people started referring to me (to my face) as an actual disabled elder or queer elder (or both). How disconcerting!

The whole vibe of this also ties in to my early ambitions to be a professor (mostly so I could get that bow tie ). I have only taught one semester of college English but enjoyed it greatly! Since I have a different career, my professor fix comes from informal associations (or non hierarchical places like Noisebridge). Though perhaps I will teach some of my dream classes in world lit, the history of zines, etc. someday when I “retire”. Anyway, my point is that you can Professor it up but that is less about lecturing and more about mentoring by listening to intelligent and motivated people and hyping them up; suggesting reading, research, directions, projects, and so on.

That was a lot of explanation to come to my Very Small Epiphany this morning as I put together a little package of tiny zines and stickers to send to a stranger who is mailing me a zine that is their homage to Alice Wong. (I will put their zine copies about Alice at the Disability Cultural Center as soon as they arrive!) And have spent a lot of time in the last couple of months doing archiving work for Freddie Baer and going through my friend’s parents’ entire (enormous) house as her mom died and her dad is in assisted living.

I am in a milieu where it is common to refer to “the ancestors”. As in “I was not ready for Stacey to become our ancestor”. Disabled people (and honestly, trans, queer, historically though I hope not any more in future…) tend to become “ancestors” a bit earlier than we would hope.

The next logical step after preparing to be an elder is preparing to be an ancestor.

Fuck! I do need to get my own shit in order, my poems, papers, diaries/journals, riot grrrl zine collection, maybe a catalogue of the rarer or more interesting books that should be kept together. As a bit of a proto hoarder – I am not going to let go of this stuff right now, but I need to put way more work into its cultivation and organization. So many poems I have lost track of or forgotten that I even wrote (or, entire zines/books!) I will get it in better order, get all my poems that I can find, at least into my own database and send them out for publication since they deserve homes.

So that is part of my plan for the next year. I also plan to live to be 100 years old and will not mind doddering around to sit in the sun and pet my cats, reading, beaming upon everyone benevolently, demanding that someone bring me more coffee, and bitching (more) about my knees.