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exiles
dear god I left for London over a month ago? and got back nearly 3 weeks ago? It's been one of those rare phases when people haven't been burning me out; I've not had enough time with anyone, not least as there are so damn many human beings I need to do human being things with. And then write. I'm past the teethgritting and into the part where the fangs sink in, finding new soft points in the underbelly to bleed words out of. Few hundred words here and there, backwards from the point where it all falls apart.
you should know: if I told you to come stay in my spare room for a while, come stay in my spare room for a while. Just tell me when you want it before too many prime chunks of next year are claimed. We've had six houseguests so far since we moved here in March, may be up to 7 by end of the year. Gull's in and out over the next few weeks (currently off down the coast, but she'll be back again Saturday), and we've been spending evenings pootling around the kitchen and sharing exciting stories about living with hoarders. Profoundly unexciting stories about trying to get on with life while there is always stuff in the way and everything is full of weevils.
Really makes me realise how much I am loving this absurd amount of space that I can let people I like do whatever with. It's not that it's worth remembering the weevils (or any of the other things I just deleted), just that it's amazing what you can do without weevils so I may as well do it. One of the prime functions of weevils is preventing anyone from sharing anything with you.
Next thursday, we are having the Happy Genocide Day party at Ting's house because Ting is allergic to my house. Gull is making frybread and Choctaw hunter's stew, and pumpkin pie because why not. Ting is making Chinese hotpot. I am making people uncomfortable.
you should know: if I told you to come stay in my spare room for a while, come stay in my spare room for a while. Just tell me when you want it before too many prime chunks of next year are claimed. We've had six houseguests so far since we moved here in March, may be up to 7 by end of the year. Gull's in and out over the next few weeks (currently off down the coast, but she'll be back again Saturday), and we've been spending evenings pootling around the kitchen and sharing exciting stories about living with hoarders. Profoundly unexciting stories about trying to get on with life while there is always stuff in the way and everything is full of weevils.
Really makes me realise how much I am loving this absurd amount of space that I can let people I like do whatever with. It's not that it's worth remembering the weevils (or any of the other things I just deleted), just that it's amazing what you can do without weevils so I may as well do it. One of the prime functions of weevils is preventing anyone from sharing anything with you.
Next thursday, we are having the Happy Genocide Day party at Ting's house because Ting is allergic to my house. Gull is making frybread and Choctaw hunter's stew, and pumpkin pie because why not. Ting is making Chinese hotpot. I am making people uncomfortable.