LiveJournal issues

Since the LiveJournal update of 13th March, I have found it quite impossible to stay logged-in -- every time I navigate to a new page the site logs me out again. This means that any friends-only journal entries (including my own!) are effectively invisible to me, as are locked entries in communities.

I can just about post comments and public journal entries by dint of repeatedly using the local log-in options on those pages -- everything else is disabled, and doing even this much is a colossal pain. So unless LJ somehow fix the issue, it looks as if I'm going to end up migrating to another site like everyone else...

My only consolation is that apparently I'm not the only one affected, so there is at least a chance that they will address whatever the bug is that they've introduced this time... (They have also effectively removed all the navigation links on the site by rolling them into a supposedly drop-down menu which doesn't; but I can work around that with a sigh and a groan for non-accessible website design. That 'feature' was at least intentional -- its apparent side-effects cannot possibly have been intended and are of a fairly terminal nature.)

All the Rules Rearranged, Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Master and Marguerite

“She chose Raoul.” Every time it burst out of him with the same circling incomprehension. “The petulant sot, the fool: why, he was the last of us to know! He would have yielded her to me, yielded to the better man... Beauty, youth, wealth— he has none left, and still she cleaves to him. Ten long years, and still she cannot see what an empty vessel she has married — why, Christine? Why?”

Perhaps she loves him. But Meg knew better than to say that. She had known the Vicomte young and oblivious, known all that careless hope turned sick with self-loathing, and seen constancy beneath both.

Last night she had wanted him to take Christine away. She had not cared, much, if it meant Christine’s happiness or not. She thought now that perhaps it would.

“Why?” It was the same hopeless cry, and she drew breath sharply without thinking.

“It was her choice.” She had not meant to speak; but it was no longer the Master of the Aerie at her side but a man broken on his own wheel, and if she could tear him from it she would. “You said yourself that the other would have yielded her to you if she chose it — perhaps what you see as weakness is the value she sees in him. Perhaps in the end he was ready to honour her choice — to place her happiness above his own.”

Easier to accept, maybe, than the other truth Meg had heard half-formed beneath that halting, partial account... that Christine de Chagny as wife and mother had granted only pity in the face of every overture from her lover of one night save when he unleashed the dark power of his music, and in the end had found strength through anger to break free even from that.

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