Time to scrape up my loose brains and pack them back together as if they were made of soft, grabby grains of brown sugar. Get twice as many in the measuring cup as it might first appear possible.
Tomorrow we celebrate Mother’s Day because last week’s Mother’s Day was too hectic, or too something for my mother and it has been suggested that we will also graft my older sister’s birthday onto this celebratory luncheon.
I am well and truly hung back up on my sugar needs. It’s not good. It’s distracting me. All I want is cake and candy and soda and caffeinated drinks. I want these beyond any reasonable reason why I should not have them, and it’s really only my mild agoraphobia and my massive laziness that are keeping me away from a teeth-rotting smorgasbord of my own sugar-flossed imagination. When you give in and give in and give in, oh, does holding back even once feel like a brutality.
It’s requiring an all-points bulletin. It’s requiring me to look at pictures, to look at you in your decent adult sort of shape, to look at calendars, and height charts, to settle on the fact that what I want is, in essence, a quick drop and a long, arduous slog right back to this point before the point of no return. I want just a little bit of crap, but the little bit of crap will roll downhill. I know this.
I feel stiff in my hands and shoulders, but also a bit wiry and interested in dancing. Pulled one way, but leaning another. I think I want to learn the Babymetal choreography – never to do in public, my god, never, but these wee little Japanese girls bounce around like they’re on some sort of go-go juice and flail their arms around. I could do with a good flailing.
Why none of the falling and none of the rising has taken place on this dreary, sunless Saturday is that Fallen London has found me via The Allusionist Show. It is EXACTLY what I need in terms of well-flavored prose of intrigue. I really loved Failbetter’s Dragon Age tie-in game that they made along with DA:I – The Last Court, I believe – and I was half-contemplating starting a new playthough of that. And for goodness sake, I do not, do not, do not need to do that. That’s so well-addressed in my head that loading it up is just about avoiding writing.
This just metes out little bits of delightfully built world and then it forces you to wait unless you want to pay them some money. It’s definitely making me think about just using the properties that create intrigue…or can…rats, darkness, demons, spirits, shadows, wine and just build away with them rather than trying to avoid things that are too on the nose. They’re tropes because they work. And the right combination eschews cliche.
So. Yes. And then there’s you, and your shadow. The shadow I try not to ignore or think less of. If I’m going to do the dance, I think, I want to pick the partner, not have him pick me.