choco_frosh | Reading

I continue to be having a LAKE VACATION and today I even went into the lake a bit!

Lake was a late-afternoon plan, and I only made it in to about the tops of my thighs, just because it was...comfortable enough outside, and also the water was quite cold. I had a nice conversation hanging with Cameron and discussing our respective indifference to swimming and other nice things. It was good to be able to cool my body by sticking my feet into the water, and I quite preferred it to being inside with the AC, which tends to be too cold for my poor lizard body.

(I am extremely cold-blooded --I get cold quite easily, and am most comfortable at an indoor temperature of probably 78ish, which no one is ever willing to set their houses at. It means this heat wave is hitting me less badly than many people, and I am very grateful for that. It also means I'm about to go put on my flannel, because bare arms are simply much too chilly for the indoors.)

Oo, or I could write my words outside! That is a good plan too!

(I got distracted having a nice chat with grandpa John, about teaching and acceleration and other things. Being pro-vocational schools! The usual. I am so proud of my school district for all the good it's doing, even though I'm exhausted by many of the things they are failing at.)

The other big thing we did today was going to the Candy Store, which was a very nice sort of adventure! We're on touristy sort of lake, so visiting some touristy sorts of shops is lovely, and gave me a chance to get my mother some vintage-style candy she would be excited about. It was also fun to spend time with just the cousins-batch! It's neat to be part of an inter-generational sort of adventure (currently Grandma Judy and Karen(Tues and Cameron's mom) are working on the crossword with other people's help, and the eight of us who are awake are curled around the table snarking each other and helping occasionally. ) but it's especially fun to just hang out with the other "kids".

It should maybe be weirder that I, at age nearly 36, am sitting so comfortably at the kids' table, but let's be real, I absolutely do not feel as though I am a Grown-Up and never have, despite the fact that I am a firm believer in Growing Up Is Good.

I don't really have much else to write about --peaceful lake vacations are good for the soul healing a bit, and curing burn-out but not exactly full of adventures. We went on a walk and saw a bat? We're going to eat strawberry shortcake? We finished a quite neat puzzle and then rearranged it and finished it again? Things are all pretty lovely.

Please stay cool, in both the "physical" and the "don't become a fascist" sorts of way.

~Sor

MOOP!

sovay

102 °F, said the forecast this afternoon. 106 °F, said the car when I got into it. I have no difficulty believing it felt like 109 °F. The sun clanged. The electric grid of the Boston metro area was not designed to run this many air conditioners at once.

I followed Ally Wilkes from her short fiction into her debut novel All the White Spaces (2022) and I mean it as a recommendation when I say that I came for the queer polar horror and stayed for the bildungsroman. Externally, it follows the disintegration of an ill-fated Antarctic expedition over the austral year of 1920 as it comes under the traditional strains of weather, misfortune, the supernatural, mistrust. Internally, it follows the discovery of its seventeen-year-old trans stowaway that masculinity comes in more flavors than the imperial ideal he has construed from war cemeteries and boy's own magazines, that he can even invent the kind of man he wants to be instead of fitting himself fossil-cast into a lost shape. No one in the novel describes their identity off the cutting edge of the twenty-first century; the narrative resists an obvious romantic pairing in favor of one of the less conventional nonsexual alliances I enjoy so much. I am predictably a partisan of the expedition's chief scientific officer, whose conscientious objection during the still-raw war casts him as a coward on a good day, a fifth columnist on a bad, and makes no effort to make himself liked either way. It has great ice and dark and queerness and since I deal with heat waves arctically, I am pleased to report that it holds up to re-read.

Kevin Adams' A Crossword War (2018) is a folk album about Bletchley Park, a thing I appreciate existing.

Current Music: Alabaster DePlume, "Who Is a Fool"

choco_frosh

Oh wow, Menewood and The Tomb of Dragons came out!

sovay

For the hundred and thirteenth birthday of Alan Turing,

spatch and I drove to Gloucester to watch the sunset on the water, so, queer joy?

I have worn this T-shirt since his centenary in 2012: it is a word cloud derived from "Computing Machinery and Intelligence" (1950). The tide filled in around the barnacle-colored, seal-colored boulders we had climbed out onto, swirling the olivine shag of the rockweed in the late mirror of the sea. I had not been to Gloucester since before the last glaciation, in a warm autumn that was still cooler than this heat dome settled over Massachusetts like a fitted block of Death Valley. We saw the red-and-white blinks of buoys, the oil-slick necks of cormorants. We checked in on the ghost sign for Moxie at the top of Tablet Rock in Stage Fort Park. From our vantage point of one of the granite horns of Half Moon Beach, we saw three crewed boats practicing for what we realized later would be the races for St. Peter's Fiesta, the blessing of the fleet which had hung the streets with tricolor bunting and Italian flags and set up the Ferris wheel and concessions of a carnival as well as an open-air altar brilliantly painted with a seascape of Ten Pound Light, its foreground wheeling with gulls with their own successful fisher's catch in their beaks. The fisherman in his sunken-green bronze oilskins still holds the wheel against more than four centuries of the remembered drowned. Our designated clam shack had closed an hour before we expected it, so we drove down Route 1 in a sailor's delight of clouds like an electric fire and came to a bewildered halt in a retina-searing splatter of blue lights, because it turned out that half of Revere Beach was closed to traffic thanks to a hit-and-run on a state trooper. We managed nonetheless to salvage roast beef and fried clams from Kelly's at the cost of several miles' walk in the gelatinous night, which compensated at least with the white noise of waves at high tide. The cable-stays of the Christina and John Markey Memorial Pedestrian Bridge were lit up in rainbow neon. I admire Aimee Ogden's "Because I Held His Name Like a Key" (2025) for not being any of the things expected of a Turing fairy story. I look forward to whatever comes of these unshredded papers. We drove home covered in sea-salt and sweat-salt and an unavoidable admixture of strangers' weed smoke and I had a really nice time.

If telepathy is admitted it will be necessary to tighten our test up.
—Alan Turing, "Computing Machinery and Intelligence" (1950)

Current Music: Kevin Adams, "Safety in Numbers"

sorcyress

I am at Keuka!

This is one of the fingerlakes in upstate New York. Tuesday's extended family has been going out to hang out in a rental cabin on the lake for a week or two every summer for basically forever. This year I got dragged along, which is quite exciting!

We arrived yesterday after about twelve total hours of varying kinds of travel, which was...a lot. It would've been better if Tuesday and I could've managed to sit together on the trains but it turns out both the Northeast Corridor and the Vermonter are _super_ crowded always, and if you don't get on them at the terminii you're fucked. But we made it! We settled in a bit and got a brief tour and I had a very good part of my evening where I just wandered outside and lay on the dock and stared at the stars for a tick. Very very good!

Today was officially day 1/3 of my ~lake vacation~ a thing I've basically never done in my life. I have read books! (parts of three different, so yes, there will be a medialog post again soon). I have worked on a puzzle! I have mostly stayed out of the way while people made dinner! I have eaten dinner!!!

And there are two more days of this? I think I can probably manage that. Just...lots of chatting with Tuesday's family, and occasionally reading books or entertaining myself. Marvelous? There ought to be swimming at some point, but most of this afternoon was spent going to the grocery store in a very disorganized little hoard. It was jolly though, and there was a bit in the middle where I was just in a marvelous mood. Feral almost --wild creature released in the grocery store with no particular agenda (because Tuesday and I got to the grock before Karen and Cameron, due to shop shenanigans). Very nice adventure!

Other plans might include going a bit kayaking, or doing some doodling, or maybe actually working on the ESCape lessons I'm teaching in, uh, a week. On Thursday, Cameron and I are going to drive down to Bal'more, since that's where they live and where mom can easily pick me up. I'll be in Maryland for an _extremely_ blitz visit until mom and Robin and I drive back up to Boston and then to...ESCAPE! I'm excited for it!

In other particularly good news, my union ratified its contract today! YAYYY!!! Best damn district in the state woot woot!

I hope you are finding whatever it is you need this week. And not too much heat.

~Sor

MOOP!

sorcyress

Today was my third pride! I am realizing I never got around to posting all the bits from my second pride, last weekend, so let's do that first:

( here are the notes from Boston pride a week ago, written in a series of texts )

***

Today was Providence Pride! It was a very different experience from Boston Pride, but still really wonderful and valuable! The biggest differences were a) the weather was the _polar opposite_ and I had to worry about heatstroke instead of my fingers going numb and b) I was attending with people instead of alone.

The latter made it much less of a quasi-spiritual experience. I only cried once, and only a very little bit, not proper sobbing --it was when I found the Mama Dragons group, who had a big sign at their booth that read "Fight like a MOTHER for trans rights". They are such a good group! Fuck yeah!

I think the real thing is that when I am with other people I am a somewhat different person than when I'm alone. I'm compelled to be more stable, which is mostly a good thing, but also just...I dunno. I have to be around only people I feel very safe around in order to be my proper weirdest, or I have to be around total strangers who I will never meet again.

But the people I were with were so good! Tuesday and I went to pride together, and it was very fun to go to A Queer Event as a unit. SamSam was passing through on their own adventures, so we found them soon after we arrived and the three of us spent about fifteen minutes sitting in some cozy shade behind a bush, which was almost pleasant weather-wise. After they went off on their next bit of biking, Tuesday and I met up with a friend of kers called Chris who ke knows through Tech House and Puzzling.

Tuesday and Chris and I spent most of the afternoon together --probably from like 3 until they had to catch a train at nearly 8. We toured some booths, ate from some food trucks, sat in the shade, and toured more booths. I think by the end of it we had probably seen all the booths at the little pride fair, although it was laid out a little roundabout in a way that might've caused us to miss a few. I got some nice bits of swag, including a very explicitly queer patch from GSSNE (Girl Scouts Southeastern New England) and an even better rainbow fan than the one I got last week (this one has PoC and trans stripes, the other just has the core six).

Chris turned out to be very fun to talk to, and we definitely had a few moments of "oof, are you me?!" as we chatted about various forms of sluttery and other fun. It was also neat to get to *chinhands* as they shared various forms of college drama with Tuesday, and I could learn some secret scandals from my partner's life before me. I am a simple man with simple pleasures!

Attending the fair was lovely, but as mentioned it was _brutal_ hot and bright out. I realized eventually that part of the problem was that my Very Cute Sunglasses are just slightly off prescription-wise from my regular sunglasses --not enough to be an immediate problem, but if I am wearing them for five hours straight, it starts to make my body unhappy. I went in the mist tent for a bit to cool down, and then we sat somewhere shaded enough that I could swap out for my regular glasses and take an ibuprofen, all of which helped. On the plus side, neither Tuesday nor I appear to have any sunburn! We brought our own sunscreen, but I did heartily approve of the multiple (mostly mom-like) people at the event who had bottles of their own that they were offering to everyone.

Chris had to catch a train, so they couldn't join me and Tuesday for the parade, which happens after the fair in PVD. We missed the very beginning, but caught most of it, and did lots of cheering and whooping and the like. I had happy screams for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence again (although apparently I have a much less strong reaction to them when they are in short cute sun-dresses as opposed to their full nun robes). We ogled some pole dancers doing good work, and very much enjoyed a local horror group who were strutting around kinkily while wearing very little clothing.

I also howled real good for the puppy players, and when they stopped for a little bit just in front of us, I wound up giving one of them a bunch of scritches and making sure he'd been drinking water and telling him he was a good boy. I have known for a long time that I really enjoy interacting with pups, and I wish I had more excuses to hang with them. Maybe I should try and go back to Frolicon some year?

The city was chockablock full of hot queers, and it was delightful. That's my favourite part of any pride, just heaps of little positive interactions with My Community. Smiles and compliments and blown kisses and lusty stares and all having a very wonderful time!

Happy Pride, y'all!

~Sor

MOOP!

sovay

For whatever it is worth to history, I wish to register that I do not like finding out that we are suddenly at war with Iran. I do not need any more specters of annihilation, nuclear or otherwise. I get enough stress from my regular life.

(These Crusader fantasists. My entire lifetime. Their Armageddon wet dreams. Why will the sand not eat them alone.)

Current Music: Midnight Oil, "Beds Are Burning"

sovay

Thanks to the effects of prolonged illness on my body, I have even more difficulty with it these days than in previous difficult years, but

spatch took a picture of me on the way down the hill of Powder House Park that looked like I could still be the prow of a ship.

Listening to the radio in the car and tracking down songs at home, I seem to have amassed a small collection of music videos, more recent than not. I had never seen the studly single entrendres that accompany the blues-rock boasts of Elle King's "Ex's and Oh's" (2015). Rob identified the scratchy guitar chug in Sarah Barrios' "Thank God You Introduced Me to Your Sister" (2021) as a callback to Fountains of Wayne and thence the Cars, but it is a sapphic banger in its own right. It is generationally lovely to have the London Gay Men's Chorus backing up the acoustic version of Isaac Dunbar's "American High" (2024). Jean Dawson's "Pirate Radio" (2022) rocks like an Afrofuturist anthem and an autobiographical chantey at the same time. If it ever crossed your mind to wonder about a cross between the Preacher in True Stories (1986) and the High Voltage Messiah of The Ruling Class (1972), there's John C. Reilly in Jack White's "Archbishop Harold Holmes" (2025). The vintage riot grrrl of Halsey's "Safeword" (2025) is enthusiastically not safe for work. Patrick Wolf's "The Last of England" (2025) has so much Jarman in its DNA, it is almost gilding the lily to have filmed at Dungeness except that it feels like the correct acknowledgement. I just like the oneiric stop-motion of Witch Prophet's "Memory (feat. Begonia)" (2023).

Current Music: Patrick Wolf, "The Last of England"

sovay

Happy solstice!

spatch and I celebrated the longest stretch of the year's light with the third-to-last night of Theatre@First's The Tempest, the farewell production of its longtime artistic director. Their lion-bronze Caliban stood laughing, in his hands the staff the island's magic had brought him in pieces, by right, made whole. In, summer!

Current Music: Jean Dawson, "Pirate Radio*"

nineweaving

Wishing all of you joy at the summer solstice.

After yesterday's oppressive heat, it was perfectly lovely, with a little wind that stirred a dip and dazzle in the leaves, and carried on it an elusive scent of lime-flowers.

I spent part of it telling stories to Fox (age 8), of kite-battles and the Borrowers and all my summer camps, and part revising Lightwards. When I went out to walk the labyrinth to celebrate the day, I kept running into folks in garlands. Very pleasant.

Nine

sovay

For Juneteenth, we left stones at Pomp's Wall on Grove Street and poured out a jigger of Medford rum for the man who built it, whose name on his bricklaying has outlasted the house in which he was enslaved.

WERS has been showcasing Black artists all day, which meant I switched it on and got the back-to-back fireworks of Koko Taylor's "Wang Dang Doodle" (1965) and Richie Havens' "Motherless Child" (1969).

Especially because I left the house yesterday at a quarter to eight in the morning and after four appointments and two visits returned home at a quarter to eight in the evening, I appreciate a known benefactor sending me five pounds of peaches and apricots from Frog Hollow Farm. They taste like the height of summer.

Current Music: Isaac Dunbar, "American High"

rocksinformation

I.
Plants creep me out, but just like, conceptually. You've got this thing just sitting there, (seemingly) not doing much of anything, in some dirt in a pot or in the ground, with some water and sunlight, all pretty normal stuff. So you leave it there and two weeks later there's... more of it. Where did it come from? Why is it bigger? It didn't have that many leaves when I first got it. Pretty weird if you ask me.

II.
I was really into origami as a kid. I had this book that had a variety of different figures at various difficulty levels, and the instructions were all really clear and with good, illustrative photos. Later on in life I tried to look up the book and the author based on the scant information I could recall... His first name was Roy, or something similar, I think? And one of his other books that I definitely owned more recently was like a subset of the original book I had from him, that was called "Action Origami", with more playful and motion-oriented projects. Well, based on just that, I did find the guy. His name was Rick Beech and he came down with psychosis, antagonized and isolated everyone around him, and finally, killed himself in 2012. That was all kind of shocking for me to learn. I guess I was expecting something like, continued doing origami work and lived a peaceful normal life.

landofnowhere

I've been busy with non-reading stuff, mostly work and playing Blue Prince with A (but also I went to Scintillation!) But I do have some books to catch up on.

Nathan the Wise, Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, translated by William Taylor. Looking at the Goodreads reviews, it looks like everyone in Germany has to read this for school, while it's much less well-known in the US -- I only learned who Lessing was because of his friendship with Moses Mendelssohn. I knew this was Lessing's plea for toleration between the three Abrahamic religions, but a post on tumblr made me decide to actually read it. Looking at the dramatis personae and seeing that one of the characters was the adopted daughter of a Jew made me concerned about the problematic ways that plot point could go, so I went and spoiled the ending for myself to make sure it would be okay -- the final plot twists take things in a much more interesting direction than I'd been worried about from the setup. The titular character is a bit too much the voice of wisdom (as one would expect from the title) to be the most interesting, but the supporting cast is fascinating.

The Falling Tower, Meg Moseman. A theological thriller about a group of college freshmen, written by a friend of mine from college -- she conveys the college atmosphere both recognizably and warmly, and the story is very page-turn-y. It is modern feminist take on Charles Williams, the lesser-known friend of Lewis and Tolkien, whose work I have not read (The Place of the Lion, about Platonic archetypes showing up in the real world, sounds intriguing, but I also hear it is not as good as its premise), and I'm not sure if I'm more likely to now. It is doing a lot of cool and ambitious worldbuilding stuff, and lets its characters have different relationships to Christianity; the spiritual aspects of the worldbuilding certainly are compatible with Christianity without it being message-y -- this is a story in which growing up in the way that college freshman grow up is more important than finding religion. I hope more people read it so that I can discuss it!

sorcyress

Today was the day off to fuck around! Like, the single day I have to recover from burnout of the past school year and be ready for the upcoming several weeks of _stuff_. I'm sure that's fine, I'm sure that's how brains work.

Anyways, I spent the first ninety minutes of the day or so wandering around the various Alewife parks/reserves. There's a lot of good nature over there! I saw multiple turtles and a well posed squirrel and a pretty moth and some ducks! Also lots of green, which smelled overpoweringly of flowers and nature and that's weirdly good despite being a sensory nightmare.

Then I went home and played a _lot_ of days of Stardew Valley, ( the next two paragraphs are boring unless you're also into Stardew! )

In the real world, I wrapped up the evening by hanging with Ruthie and The Toddler for a bit. It was a good evening! A dinosaur drove a truck, which is entirely a correct thing for toddler toys to be doing. And the bedtime story was Magic School Bus and the Hurricane, which was great fun.

Tomorrow has many plans. Here are some of them:

*Call Tuesday, work out final plans/timing for the next few days

*Possibly create A Snack for the pride party

*Go to the grocery store

*Write an entire pre-Pinewoods todo list

*Clean the bathrooms

*Photograph free stuff so I can put it on Facebook and maybe even get it out of the house before I go

*Laundry is a Friday plan. So is packing for mine and Tuesday's adventures and maybe if I'm really good packing one (1) bag for Pinewoods.

Huzzah or whatever!

(And maybe after my dance party I can play a few more days of Stardew).

~Sor

MOOP!

sovay

Allison Bunce's Ladies (2024) so beautifully photosets the crystalline haze of a sexual awakening that the thought experiment assigned by its writer-director-editor seems more extraneous than essential to its sensorily soaked seventeen-minute weekend, except for the queerness of keeping its possibilities fluid. The tagline indicates a choice, but the film itself offers something more liminal. Whatever its objectivity, what it tells the heroine is real.

It's more than irony that this blurred epiphany occurs in the none more hetero setting of a bachelorette weekend, whose all-girl rituals of cheese plates and orange wine on the patio and drunkenly endless karaoke in a rustically open-plan rental somewhere down the central coast of California are so relentlessly guy-oriented, the Bechdel–Wallace test would have booked it back up 101 after Viagra entered the chat. The goofiest, freakiest manifestation of the insistence on men are the selfie masks of the groom's face with which the bride's friends are supposed to pose as she shows off her veil in the lavender overcast of the driftwood-littered beach, but it's no less telling that as the conversation circles chronically around partners past and present, it's dudes all the way down. Even jokily, their twentysomething, swipe-right femininity admits nothing of women who love women, which leaves almost literally unspeakable the current between ginger-tousled, disenchanted Ruby (Jenna Lampe) and her lankier, longtime BFF Leila (Greer Cohen), the outsiders of this little party otherwise composed of blonde-bobbed Chloe (Ally Davis) and her flanking mini-posse of Grace (Erica Mae McNeal) and Lex (Tiara Cosme Ruiz), always ready to reassure their wannabe queen bee that she's not a bad person for marrying a landlord. "That's his passion!" They are not lovers, these friends who drove down together in Ruby's SUV. Leila has a boyfriend of three months whose lingering kiss at the door occasioned an impatiently eye-rolling horn-blare from Ruby, herself currently single after the latest in a glum history of heterosexual strike-outs: "No, seriously, like every man subconsciously stops being attracted to me as soon as I tell him that I don't want to have kids." And yet the potential thrums through their interactions, from the informality of unpacking a suitcase onto an already occupied bed to the nighttime routine of brushing their teeth side by side, one skimming her phone in bed as the other emerges from the shower and unselfconsciously drops her towel for a sleep shirt, climbing in beside her with such casual intimacy that it looks from one angle like the innocence of no chance of attraction, from another like the ease of a couple even longer established than the incoming wedding's three years. "He's just threatened by you," Leila calms the acknowledgement of antipathy between her boyfriend and her best friend. It gets a knowing little ripple of reaction from the rest of the group, but even as she explains for their tell-all curiosity, she's smiling over at her friend at the other end of the sofa, an unsarcastic united front, "Probably because he knows I love her more than him."

Given that the viewer is encouraged to stake out a position on the sex scene, it does make the most sense to me as a dream, albeit the kind that reads like a direct memo from a subconscious that has given up waiting for dawn to break over Marblehead. It's gorgeous, oblique, a showcase for the 16 mm photography of Ryan Bradford at its most delicately saturated, the leaf-flicker of sun through the wooden blinds, the rumpling of a hand under a tie-dyed shirt, a shallow-breasted kiss, a bunching of sheets, all dreamily desynched and yet precisely tactile as a fingernail crossing a navel ring: "Tell me if you want me to move my hand." Ruby's lashes lie as closed against her cheeks as her head on the pillow throughout. No wonder she looks woozy the next morning, drinking a glass of water straight from the tap as if trying to cool down from skin-buzzing incubus sex, the edge-of-waking fantasy of being done exactly as she dreamt without having to ask. "Spread your legs, then." Scrolling through their sunset selfie session, she zooms and lingers on the two of them, awkwardly voguing back to back for the camera. She stares wordlessly at Leila across the breakfast table, ἀλλ’ ἄκαν μὲν γλῶσσα ἔαγε λέπτον δ’ αὔτικα χρῶι πῦρ ὐπαδεδρόμηκεν to the life. Chloe is rhapsodizing about her Hallmark romance, but Ruby is speaking to her newly sensitized desires: "I just really hate that narrative, though. Pretending that you don't want something in the hopes that you'll get the thing that you're pretending that you don't want? Like, it just doesn't make any sense." It is just not credible to me that Leila who made such a point of honesty in relationships would pretend that nothing had happened when she checks in on her spaced-out friend with quizzical concern, snuggles right back into that same bed for an affectionate half-argument about her landlord potential. "I'm sure there are dishwasher catalogues still being produced somewhere in the world." Still, as if something of the dream had seeped out Schrödinger's between them, we remember that it was Leila who winkled her way into an embrace of the normally standoffish Ruby, who had her arms wrapped around her friend as she delivered what sure sounded like a queerplatonic proposal: "Look, if we both end up single because we both don't want kids, at least we'll have each other. We can have our own wedding." The last shots of the film find them almost in abstract, eyes meeting in the rear view mirror, elbows resting on the center console as the telephone poles and the blue-scaled Pacific flick by. It promises nothing and feels like a possibility. Perhaps it was not only Ruby's dream.

I can't know for certain, of course, and it seems to matter to the filmmaker that I should not know, but even if all that has changed is Ruby's own awareness, it's worth devoting this immersive hangout of a short film to. The meditative score by Karsten Osterby sounds at once chill and expectant, at times almost drowning the dialogue as if zoning the audience out into Ruby. The visible grain and occasional flaw in the film keep it haptically grounded, a memento of Polaroids instead of digitally-filtered socials. For every philosophizing moment like "Do you ever have those dreams where you wake up and you go about your day and get ready and everything feels normal, but then you wake up and you're still in bed, so you're like, 'Oh, was I sleeping or was that real?'" there's the ouchily familiar beat where Ruby and Leila realize simultaneously that neither of them knows the name of Chloe's fiancé, just the fact that he's a landlord. Whatever, it's an exquisite counterweight to heteronormativity, a leaf-light of queerness at the most marital-industrial of times. I found it on Vimeo and it's on YouTube, too. This catalogue brought to you by my single backers at Patreon.

Current Music: Muna, "What I Want"

sorcyress

I did it! I finished cleaning up my room! I was able to play School's Out For Summer at about 6:50pm or so, which is plenty good as these things go. *THUMP* goes the brain. I would like to do absolutely nothing! But things are coming up!

Here's some good things coming up in the near future:

*I'm going to go to Keuka (in the finger lakes in NY) with Tuesday's family! This appears to be the kind of vacation where you just chill out and read books and go for walks and things. I'm excited! I don't really know how to have that kind of vacation, so it'll be a good chance to try things out.

*I'm doing a road trip from Keuka to MD with Cameron (Tuesday's sibling) which sounds like it will be quite a nice time, honestly. I've road-tripped with Tuesday a fair amount, and ker mom a few times, so I'm excited to do it with another member of the family.

*Almost immediately after, I'm road-tripping back up from MD to Boston (and then ESCape) with mom and Wicked Auntie Robin. Mom and I are definitely compatible road trip buddies! I think Robin will be a good third!

(I recently got a kickstarter which is "gay games to play in the car with your girlfriend while she drives you to go camping" so I'm excited to have some road trips to play the gay games!)

*ESCape is going to be amazing, obviously. I'm the official scottish teacher! I get to MC in the evenings and teach two classes! AAAAH! Good aah, but also stressed aah.

*Once I'm back from ESCape I get to actually breathe for a week or so, which is going to be my play video games time. I am _extremely_ looking forward to it.

And then there's some other stuff in the back half of the summer. That's good too!

~Sor

MOOP!

sovay

Shortly after we had headed off to collect fish and chips for dinner with my mother,

spatch's delivery of "Frying tonight!" led into my description of Kenneth Williams as the "total package." We had earlier in the day been discussing the cultural relativity of communicating in quotations. At one point in order to indicate that it was time to leave the house, I called, "To the lighthouse!"

(Fresh Pond Seafood gave us extra of everything and I had a lovely interaction with a young trans woman wearing all the jewelry she had been able to find in her newly moved house. The treasury looked spectacular on her, especially the rhyme of the silver heart bangle on her wrist with her heart-framed, literally rose-tinted glasses.)

WERS has introduced me to Muna's "Silk Chiffon (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)" (2021), which I assume is on rotation either because it's Pride or because it's a banger. I am as incapable of selecting one favorite fictional lesbian as any other single shot, but the first contenders look like the ironclad classics of Florian del Guiz in Mary Gentle's Ash: A Secret History (2000), Manke and Rifkele in Sholem Asch's גאָט פֿון נעקאָמע/God of Vengeance (1907), and Corky and Violet in the Wachowskis' Bound (1996).

Current Music: Muna, "Silk Chiffon (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)"

sovay

I wish to express my strenuous distaste for this week starting off with the curtain rod falling onto my head as I stepped into the shower with such force that

spatch heard the noise of stainless steel onto skull from the bedroom. It hurt appallingly. It still doesn't feel so hot. I called after-hours care and was duly presented with a checklist of symptoms of concussion and brain bleed to watch out for, an activity not exactly compatible with attempting to plunge myself into unconsciousness for the few short hours before I need to be functional for already scheduled calls and appointments. I would like to know who I need to sacrifice to get a break. I always liked haruspicy. I know it's your own liver that counts.

Current Music: Laufey, "Silver Lining"

sorcyress

I have two days left of school, which is probably good, and then I slam into summer with several weeks of Very Exciting. I'm going to drive to MD and back in the span of about four days. Somewhere in here I need to finish preparing for my ESCape classes. I have to pack?!?! Maybe all my stints on crew mean I'll be able to pack a lot lighter than usual for ESC/Scots (lolno).

Tomorrow I should figure out everything that needs to be done in the school building before I depart for the year. Packing up. Printing things. Recycling many many pieces of paper. Submitting grades and paperwork and the like. (The printing things is sneakily a "prepare for ESCape" thing to do --I want to have some properly formatted dances or What Have You. I seem to recall I did quite a lot of this as a work-in-company with Veronica last summer, I probably won't have the MD time to do that again, but it's worth noting that MD does have printers. And so does MA. It's not the end of the world if I fail to print things, is what I'm saying.)

I've been playing lots of Stardew Valley, which I'm quite into, even if I'm getting a little stuck on some of the plot bits. Not looking anything up is a bit of a drag, but also feels very very good when I do figure things out myself. I am glad to have realized I can go back through the library and reread the books I've found --I was worried those were one shot readings, and I'd forgotten the early ones. Anyways, no spoilers, I'm a bit into my second summer.

Went to service ringing today, for probably my last bells for a month. So that's...a lot. Luckily it did not emotionally overwhelm me, maybe partly because I've had a low-key headache for a few days now. I arrived at Advent in time to help ring down, and then we did a mostly nice extent of Cambridge at Old North. (It was only mostly nice because everybody spontaneously exploded when we got to the plain course, and we limped through and barely made it. Sigh.)

Yesterday was pride and I wrote up a bunch of thoughts and should probably post them somewhere, instead of just manually sending them to various partners who like hearing about my life. I suppose there are others of you who like hearing about my life as well or whatever.

I finally picked back up the Endless Photo Organization Project the other day, and sorted a handful of photos. I forgot to note the number at the beginning, so I have no idea how many things got tagged. It's nice to get back into the swing of the project, and extremely nice to have set the whole thing up on the external harddrive, so switching it from old computer to new was essentially trivial. I wish I could figure out a few more keyoard shortcuts to speed things up a tick, but I'm feeling pretty okay with the mousing that has to be done.

Having finished words, I should do at least one of the dishes and going to sleep. Goodnight!

~Sor

MOOP!

sovay

Being left to my own devices this week with a pile of unfamiliar Agatha Christie, I naturally read them one after the other. I have nothing especially to note about Why Didn't They Ask Evans? (1934) or The Sittaford Mystery (1931) except that it turned out to be a duplicate of the US-titled The Murder at Hazelmoor and I swapped it out for Dolores Hitchens' Cat's Claw (1943), but Christie's They Came to Baghdad (1951) is a reasonably wild ride of a novel which mixes several different flavors of spy thriller with a romance conducted on an archaeological dig at Tell Aswad, which I didn't even need to bet myself had been excavated by Max Mallowan. Minus the nuclear angle, its global conspiracy is right out of an interwar thriller—Christie to her credit defuses much of the potential for antisemitism with references to Siegfried and supermen instead—as is its Ambler-esque heroine gleefully launching herself into international intrigue with little more than her native wits and talent for straight-faced improvisation, but its spymaster is proto-le Carré, the chronically shabby, fiftyish, vague-looking Dakin, a career disappointment rumored to drink who never looks any less tired when dealing with affairs of endangered state. He gave me instant Denholm Elliott and never seems to have recurred in another novel of Christie's, alas. I made scones with candied ginger and sour cherries and lemon tonight.