It's always a good time at The Haunted Townhouse, even when 2/5 are off to par-tay. I volunteered to co-babysit with ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imnotandrei , and we had cheesesteaks, lovely chatting about kink, and a nice time watching S-porn, Something Wicked This Way Comes, which I hadn't seen since I was in high school. It was better than I remembered it, actually.
That was all on the heels of some lovely time spent withginoushka , even under arduous circumstances.
I love how the people closest to me all bring their particular comfort. Y'all have different flavors of balm. Some of you are back-slappers, some of you coo, some of you hold and cuddle and nuzzle. Some of you I will allow to rub my head. Some of you make tea and listen with kind eyes. And I'm grateful for the capacity for gratitude and you.
"I got so much trouble on my mind."
Woke up with Dad on my mind. He's been around lately, doors between worlds thin and all. He can't really answer me when I wake in Oakland fog and ask about violence or death or love or purpose, but I ask him anyway and try to move placidly through fear and sharp affections. I lit candles for him and the other Honored Dead, left candy bars, fruit, a little taste (vodka, but I'll have to get him a little Jack Daniels before the Day is over), and tried to create space for the sadness and honored losses. Where I'm from, we dance when people die; we almost always cry too.
We'd barely met when you were called, but maybe you'll help teach me how to be a better man anyway. You were born on the same day as I was, but we never knew till you died, records and memories being what they are for oppressed people in hard times. You've helped me through more than I thought I could stand--insanity, death, rape, injustice, and I know you too must be very tired. Please continue to guide me through the days ahead and extend whatever protection you can to me and those I love. Thanks for the T.S. Eliot book you left and the Sidney Bechet. Your loving daughter, your loving son, aquenigmatic
EDIT: I hit "Save" and a loud POP came from the altar. Uh huh.
imnotandrei , and we had cheesesteaks, lovely chatting about kink, and a nice time watching S-porn, Something Wicked This Way Comes, which I hadn't seen since I was in high school. It was better than I remembered it, actually.That was all on the heels of some lovely time spent with
ginoushka , even under arduous circumstances. I love how the people closest to me all bring their particular comfort. Y'all have different flavors of balm. Some of you are back-slappers, some of you coo, some of you hold and cuddle and nuzzle. Some of you I will allow to rub my head. Some of you make tea and listen with kind eyes. And I'm grateful for the capacity for gratitude and you.
"I got so much trouble on my mind."
Woke up with Dad on my mind. He's been around lately, doors between worlds thin and all. He can't really answer me when I wake in Oakland fog and ask about violence or death or love or purpose, but I ask him anyway and try to move placidly through fear and sharp affections. I lit candles for him and the other Honored Dead, left candy bars, fruit, a little taste (vodka, but I'll have to get him a little Jack Daniels before the Day is over), and tried to create space for the sadness and honored losses. Where I'm from, we dance when people die; we almost always cry too.
We'd barely met when you were called, but maybe you'll help teach me how to be a better man anyway. You were born on the same day as I was, but we never knew till you died, records and memories being what they are for oppressed people in hard times. You've helped me through more than I thought I could stand--insanity, death, rape, injustice, and I know you too must be very tired. Please continue to guide me through the days ahead and extend whatever protection you can to me and those I love. Thanks for the T.S. Eliot book you left and the Sidney Bechet. Your loving daughter, your loving son, aquenigmatic
EDIT: I hit "Save" and a loud POP came from the altar. Uh huh.
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