I don’t think I did anything about house today besides make tea and a salad and take my pills and a nice long nap. (I’m allowed to be tired when I’m tired, I’ve got Daim Branage. I worked on about half a dozen destiel fics, tidying mostly, getting names consistent, that kind of editable stuff. 9 words on one fic 318 on another, that kind of thing.
THEN around 6 the THUNDER started … for about an hour, every ten minutes or so there was the longest, most histrionical, excessive, over-the-top, can’t-stop-won’t-stop thunderclap you could imagine. Long pause and then explosion noise-overlaid with a helicopter landing on the house noise – overlaid with brO’s apparently epic fart from yesterday – and then cannonades in the distance fading to a repetitive coda. Jeff and I were impressed as hell.
Watched Cry Macho, had no expectations of it being great, and enjoyed it because to my mind it was entertaining. Some of Eastwood’s reaction shots will live as memes long after he’s dead, I predict.
Imagine stealing a boat and then sailing it into a hurricane.
Sean Rust, of Muskegon, professional names DJ Deadlock or DJ Submit (classy) is a rapist. He raped a woman at a music festival in 2018; she got a rape kit and wanted justice and the local police OF COURSE told her it was all her fault and refused to do a thing.
The fucking cops, may their hinder parts be smote with extra-pulmonary tubercular lesions, banged on the survivor’s door recently and told her to take down the facebook page in which she named her rapist. Fine, you fucks. I’ll put the information here instead.
Lick my grease trap if y’all don’t like it, and if Sean is reading this, LOL. You deserve everything that’s coming to you.
It is a fine day to thank the MST peoples for the good fortune to dwell on their land.
Many kudos waiting for me this morning on Archive of Our Own, which is very pleasant.
Trees blew down all over the lower mainland but we didn’t lose power here as far as I can tell.
I am recollecting that Jim was talking about some books about BC I should probably read. I need to email him about that.
I owe Paul a promised pedicure, I should probably get my shit together today and schedule it.
Side effects have dropped off to a dull roar.
Made whole wheat buns yesterday. Jeff and I made a good divot in them.
I got a phone call from Mike (he’s bought diabetes cookbooks to feed me!!!) asking for clarification on my diet. I DO NOT DESERVE MY FRIENDS. Or rather, what must I do to deserve my friends?
I handwrote a letter to my parents and they couldn’t read one of the words so I think I’m going to print letters in future. It goes faster and it’s easier to read. I’m just scared I’ll reuse parts of one letter for other people if I don’t hand write them.