fox

Foxy has a hummingbird tattooed on her person now. There are a few reasons, but he's my favourite.

Accurate.

A lot a lot a lot of Amy Winehouse these days.

I haven't posted it yet. I wrote it. I don't hate it, but it doesn't feel ready so Ima work on it more today. Thank you for looking.

I don't want to playact it. No "*" or "/" actions. (You can. That's not a judgement. It's just not something I can do. Right now, maybe anymore, I'm not sure.) I've been thinking about a curious little fox curled up into a cinnamon roll ball in the corner of a field, near its forest border. The season is whatever you want it to be and the sounds are whatever you hear when you traverse a forested field. Foxy is dozing, though, and in their subconscious is the foggy thought (memory) of an onyx obelisk. It makes me smile a bit. Tomorrow is his anniversary. Like two years ago (below), I'm not sure where to write this. I'm sad because I haven't been able to talk with him in more than nine years (nine fucking years), but I'm happy that I still get to talk to (at) him. I've thought about him a lot this year. I've missed him a lot this year. I've loved him a lot for more than a decade. I do, Sugar. I miss you so damn much. A lot of the time. You will never not be at the front of the line, promises promises. Thank you for that, by the way. I never said thank you for that. I don't think I knew how much it meant to me then. I don't know that I still do, fully, now. I know that I'm crying now, so I should wrap this up before words get more blurry. I just love you, ogre. So fucking much. (Look at that fucking face - below. How beautiful was he, holy moly. We were so lucky to have known him. I am so lucky to have known him.)

Maybe "happy" isn't the right word, I'm a bit more numb than I'd like these days, but I feel a bit less weighed down after writing (a blog post about bullshit diet culture) and actually, soulfully communicating (hate. Being vulnerable is hard and itchy and I don't like it), and also raging (about The Patriarchy). Today is weird. Ima go for a walk.

Sammmmmmme. Hi hi hi hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii all around!

Yupppp. Is...fun....

All good, Wolf. But thank you for thinking of that!

Probably, but when I get into a pit of despair I have blinders one. It's an obstacle.

Yes! I am not and will not be A Blogger. I do not make the time for it. (Gorram Netflix.) So. I just blather when I feel inspired to blather.

I mean, on that note, I just wrote myself into a shitty dark corner, so there's some fucking life/Universe balance for you.

Hey hey! Do any of you cats have a non-NL blog? I built a new one semi-recently (after my brain melted): https://whiskycoffeecrows.wordpress.com/ (Zero promises for regular posting. I've made those promises before and am right shit at keeping them, so I shall save myself the guilt and just keep some space.) How about you folks? Any bloggity bloggerinos?

Ooooh! Rad. I love rollerblading and have been skating a lot more in the last few years. Not a lot by some standards, but I live in a hilly area and noooooooooope. But this looks like so much fun! Very cool, Wolf. I'm glad you're roller hockey-ing.

Things have changed. Oooh boy, like a LOT since 2017. Which, arguably, they should. Because that's a few years. But damn, 2017 was a shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitty year in my life/head. But that's not where we are. We're here. In 2021. And you know what? I'm divorced, I own my house, I changed my job (an organization), I took a long medical leave, I started "happier brain" meds (SSRIs). I need to layer therapy back into that in a big way, but these are good changes. I still have shit days, but most of them, recently at least, are because I'm facing some big past demons that I need to slog away at. I don't like 'em, but they're important to face and so face them I shall. So. Still #lovehate-ing my skull meat.