It's Not Self-Care If You Regret It After
Jem, sunbathing on her current dirt pit/future lawn.
Not to be totally "Florals? For spring! Groundbreaking" but is there anything more exhilarating than being sprunged - spranged! - from the death-grip of winter with at least the theoretical idea of warmth, even when it corresponds with Mercury sliding right into retrograde? Which is, btw, today, I checked.
"Self-care is regularly positioned as drinking Whispering Angel and doing yarn crafts with squealing packs of pals in neon-lit hot tubs, but self-care is actually a pretty boring and rigorous practice of constantly choosing yourself."
Love is Blind
"Number one internet-related irritation is overdoing it on this: declaring that one is 'quitting' or 'taking a break!' or posting something that starts with 'Sorry I’ve been away so long!' as though it’s a recurring matter of such vibrating interest that waves crest and break in the martini glasses atop the Algonquin round table...
Winter is traumatizing to the triple-extreme
"Here is my feeling: a date orchestrated by someone else, a human person who has some understanding of other human people, works better. (Or, not even a date-date, but more potently sometimes, a seedling of an idea of something that could be, the kind of idea that is steamed up by hot stardusty sex-resin that you have to wipe away with a sleeve, the kind of magique that we can still believe in...
"Idea: I find winter traumatizing to the triple-extreme: putting on boots and coats in Toronto or New York sux (this is vs. California, where I have winter vacayed a lot, and where the North Face and heat lamps come out on the equivalent of a fading Labour Day in Muskoka), like sux in the same way that showering sux, because they are repetitive, painful journeys of care..."