saw a Lynx in the park yesterday

and ate the world’s greasiest chinese food at Deer Lake Wonton Restaurant afterwards my guts are dying but honestly the hot and sour wasn’t bad but I’m never getting the chow mein again I got home and Buster licked my face for like, a minute.

Yes it was a lynx, black tufts on tail and ears. So pretty, so calm and dignified. No pictures. I ain’t swearin’ up and down that beige blob is a Lynx’s ass, it’s pointless. I have my memories.

I am about halfway through Nisi Shawl’s anthology New Suns, and I love it so far. Even the stories that don’t quite hit the narrative beats that I would be going for are well written and flavourful in how they manipulate the concept of the other.

When I write about sixers, I’m writing about people who have suffered terribly, and continue to suffer, under the burden of being a colonized people who in term were weaponized to kill, and in some cases to expunge from the galaxy, planetsful of sentient beings. They’ve managed to put together a damaged, weird echo of whatever they used to be like, but these days they are modeling themselves after humans because it’s all they have.