"Stable gender identities", says The Economist, failing at the very basic and obvious point that *all* identities are fluid and change over time. In meaningful and elemental senses, you are not the same person you were ten years, ten months, or ten minutes ago.

Great mysteries of state bureaucracy: if I went through normal channels to get a copy of my birth certificate, they would take until at least next Wednesday to process the application. Because I paid them $40, they now have it ready for me 47 minutes after I applied. What's the extra week for??

Blackouts are dumb, go repost and comment nice things on an assload of NSFW art you like, or follow a starter pack of cool trans artists making stuff you're interested in. If your intent is to protest, do it in a way that actually supports the people you think you're standing up for.

time to trot this one out again

My sincerest and deepest thanks to everyone who took time today to honour my father Malcolm. The world will never turn quite as it should without him. I miss him achingly, and your support—all of you—has been felt, even if I don't have the words or the capacity to express my gratitude right now. 💜

Extremely cool that pretty much the moment I'm even vaguely by myself I dissolve into tears. This is a very normal and healthy thing, I am sure. I have no idea how I'm going to write this eulogy, let alone give it. I've written too many by now. Anyway, here are my parents as I never knew them.

Dear Bluesky: I am scared.

I don't have any thoughts to share on a specific instance of political violence, except to say that there is no need or obligation to mourn or express sympathy for a fascist who built a career and life on dismantling the careers and lives of others and advocating for their harm.

Dad status: style council.

I had to identify my father today. Because of the type of care he was under, the coroner is involved, and the police. This meant that I was brought into the forensic sciences building and now my most recent memory of my Dad is in that awful, visceral place. It is horrific and I wish it on no one.

My father didn’t make it to Father’s Day this year, and it will always be a bitter irony to me that it follows on the heels of his passing. But: happy Father’s Day, Dad. I miss you now and always.

The best man I have ever known. Goodbye, dad. Fair winds. I love you.

I’ll tell you what: times like this really demonstrate to you the people who matter. And there are many.

I’ve written lots about the problems with historical photo colourisation (which also uses forms of AI). This is an extension of this practice (an extreme one) reliant on the same logic of emotional ‘impact’ outweighing veracity, and ignoring or refusing to accept the historical limits of imagery.

So I’ve been up now for sixteen hours, ever since I got the call from Adelaide to say that friends and family who want to farewell my father should do so now. I’ve been back for like ten days since burying my mother, and now I need to go back for my dad. This is too much all at once.

But not tonight.

just inventing 18/19th century wars for fun now. The Belgo-Sardinian War. War of the Moravian Succession. The Sueco-Montenegrin Congo Dispute. The 3rd Schleswig-Holstein War over the Lex Polabica

I'm in love.

Do I know anyone who actually likes making Gantt charts?

The bootlickers to the authoritarians are those who make allowances for them. Segregation is not "an unrealistic purity test"; it is an extremely clear issue around which there should be absolutely no wiggle room, and failing it should be disqualifying, not some quibble of quote-unquote "purity."

In a music mood: 🙂 That music is Depeche Mode: 😶 That Depeche Mode is specifically "Blasphemous Rumours" on repeat: 🙃

Hullo from here

Sadly I could not, in conscience, apply to a women's fellowship that explicitly excludes trans women. :-(

Hello hi I know my timeline hasn’t been puppies and roses recently. But I just wanted to share this photo from my parents’ wedding, 53 years ago, because it makes me smile nearly as much as dad is here.

The German Democratic Republic by @historyned.bsky.social provides a succinct and comprehensive history of East Germany and its people, from its early Cold War foundations to the fall of the Berlin Wall. Publishing today! bit.ly/4kaEnJf

I’m not sure I was ready for “no they’re just war crimes and that makes it fine.”

Crying in the Office 2: Electric Boogaloo. This time, it’s actually the S-Bahn.

Cried in the office today in what experts have called “embarrassing” and “oof.”

Haha now is of course time to play our favourite game, is it cardiac arrest or is it anxiety? (It’s definitely the latter.)

Poor John Boyne, being disliked and derided for his dogshit bigotry and horrendous writing. Don’t we know that everyone should have the freedom of speech to whitewash Nazis, demonise vulnerable people, and make dye out of plagiarism??

Mum had a whole collection of artworks specifically made for her by her dear friend Mike Dunham of Coastwind kennels in California. We had one of her favourite pieces on display at her funeral. Now I have several of them on my walls, including this cutie over my coffee bar. Feels appropriate.

Well. I’m home. I don’t know how this feels. I’ve started with a lovely washed Ethiopian from Market Lane in Melbourne, and served in a cup from April in Copenhagen, because I wanted a connection to home and to my happiest time this year. The cat was one of mum’s. She’ll find her place here.

Now that I’m back in Germany it’s a good time for Julia Klöckner to resign.

Hallo Frankfurt

Turns out home might have to wait a little bit longer. There’s a medical emergency on board our flight and we’re diverting to Sri Lanka. Hope the person is okay, but there’s an awful lot of rushing around with medical kits…

It’s time to go home. I already miss everyone. I love you all and I think people — friends, family, perfect strangers — are incredible. Hold your loved ones close in your heart.

The house is nearly packed up and I feel very adrift.

Also hi again pals. I’ll be back on the tools next week, pending another emergency trip back to Adelaide at an indeterminate point in the intermediate future. What a time to be alive.

Will Stancil seems not to understand what neoliberalism is.

But what if I don’t belong anywhere. What then, pals.

And yet more class. I’m so sorry to these wonderful authors whose joy has been fettered away by a prize committee that won’t defend its principles and leaves it to those authors to do so at their cost. Read these books. I know I’ve started a new to-read list. 💜

Abolish John Boyne while we’re at it.

I’ve got a lot of respect for Sacha. To be listed for a prize is a big deal; it can really make an author’s career. I don’t think anyone would have blamed him for remaining. But that he saw who he was nominated alongside, decided that he couldn’t morally justify it, and is withdrawing is true class.

Can I be pedantic and point out that humans don’t “produce” eggs, those with eggs are born with their lifetime supply?

Abolish Keir Starmer.

Hi chat, it’s been a bit, and grief is compounded by so many complications. So I guess this is me poking my head above the parapet to say I’m not alright but I’m working on it, and I love you all.

It’s a fish and chips night. Chicken salt and malt vinegar obviously.

Love that (I’m pretty sure) the guy who has been low-effort stalking me for over a decade has decided to return just while I’m grieving the loss of a parent. Go fuck yourself Winston.

You heard it first here: I’m responsible for Trump because I *checks notes* exist.