#Its raining

[kinainai]

[enigmasandepiphanies]

humans were made on this earth to lie under their comforters and blankets with their eyes closed in a kaleidoscope of dreams as it rains outside

[osakanone]

Sexuality is a myth, and we are legends

Also I realized why I can't be a lesbian (surely?):

Its the literature I read.

Its all terrible.

Being a girl is like being an angel, and the feeling is

"if men don't reach to the sky, am I really flying or not?" "Is it not my duty to relieve them with death?" "How could I be so kind as to ignore them?"

I don't know if that's "wow I'm into dudes" or "wow so gender" because some bizarre part of my brain has decided I can't or don't get to or deserve to one-circle or two-circle with another pair of wings banking at the speed of sound.

But lesbians dogfight. It opens with spying each-other over the horizon with brilliant electromagnetic-echolocation, gaining momentum and altitude and speed to break the sound-barrier to interrogate glimmers of whispers in the dark. All to save the effort of Valkyria lances of cyclops eyes and wax wings they bow across rockets, saving their burns to go as far and high as possible: throwing them beyond sight before immediately cranking pre-emptively to play coy as they close in the joust comes to an end.

Soon, they dance. Rarely, almost never, always beautifully, they dance.

To my understanding, the straights do close air support: Line it up, keep on straight, pickle, release, see it all happen dispassionately from a distance. A white wall of light. Next target. There is no dancing here.

Instead I'm stuck dumping rounds into men on the ground like some kind of novelty; some bizarre mythical creature. A unicorn. Something to be ashamed of, that nobody talks to their friends about.

I'm terrain masking for my own protection as a prey animal to everything: the lurching hypermasculinity of the tank. The angels above me.

I gain flight, but with some bastard mixture of vtol and lifting body effect. I have affordance like a tank. I climb. I lay. I roll. I peek, and I throw wishes at twice the speed of sound from my right arm.

I do things with my hands.

I aim at two things at once, with my ears of RWR, and my eyes of IRST and AESA. My atom heart is crying. My fingers are stimming across switches, every foot tap lurching me, rocking my whole body as if I'd sighted the incomprehensible.

I see where fairies called "missiles" are going, and I sigh swarms of rounds down before they get there: hair bristling like the hairs standing on the neck of an institutional battleship's neck, protecting it as horrors close in from unknown.

I do this as they do, as I move, effortlessly, as an individual.

I get stuff done; I build things like a mother throwing a pre-fab castle called "forward operating base" for her warrior children on holiday mornings with the camcorders rolling.

I am the all-mother, and every footstep is a lithe gong: both deafening and silent.

I put myself back together when I break. I put you back together, when you break. I am here, with you, with me. Together.

I'm Gerridae: I stride both spaces yet occupy neither.

I stand tall enough that they reach for me, but I don't stay high enough to be like the other girls.

[ishaiookh]

[weepingfoxfury]

The man on the radio is not the usual man on the radio. The usual man on the radio is sleeping off last night's partying as the station celebrated 25 years on air. The stand-in man on the radio seems to be having difficulty finding the required buttons and alternates between sounding as though he is in the room with you, or has wandered off and is absent-mindedly continuing the show from one of the studio's bathrooms. The traffic lady's reports are erratic as all timekeeping bets are off this morning.

The shiny metropolis calls once more and, as ever, I am in need of Ireland's only umbrella. Yes, I am most assuredly referring to the much coveted 'the umbrella'. It is fabled amongst the folk of the soggy Emerald Isle. Many are prepared to swear they have had regular sightings of 'the umbrella' and some are even prepared to swear upon their morning cup of 'tay' that they have been within touching distance of it.

I myself know a man who knows another man who swears that the friend of a friend of a friend might just be able to lay his hands on the pen used to sign the 'the umbrella' booking sheet ... but I must keep this information close to my chest.

In the meantime, I shall alternately dream of 'the umbrella' and sunnier days where I shan't need 'the umbrella' ... or I could just do the sensible thing and get a raincoat.

Perhaps the man on the radio who is not the usual man on the radio will finally find the 'weather report' and I'll be a little wiser as to what level of wetness lies in store for the rest of today ... (blinks ... waits ... sighs) ... nope ... looks like he's found the traffic lady button again instead ................ she will be surprised ...

[j3llyf1shdust]

I love photo mode. Imma draw this but also make it my backround.

[tidepoolconstellations]

dismay

my tears are falling

my tears are pouring out

and all i’m left with is

star showers and wilted flowers

as i try to pass the hours

i miss your charted stars

your pumped up heart

i try to bend with the wind

dancing like we did

but i break apart

shattered glass mosaic on the concrete

and i just can’t let go and accept defeat

my tears are falling

my heart is pouring out

i miss your ever growing garden

you let me be a part of, but

no flowers rest upon the stone

and i just can’t let go, until i know

how do you resurrect an old friend?

someone who wanted you dead?

tell me, will it all be worth it,

in the end?

my heart is breaking

i just can’t take it

unsure of what to do

with your catatonic clues

i try to lie in the grave you made

but i fall

and i fall

and i fall

and fall

and fall

and fall

and i just can’t shut up, about how

you left me deserted, did i deserve it?

did i not take the new year hard enough?

dodge a bullet i shouldn’t of?

you’re just going to ignore me,

begging and pleading?

you’re just going to leave me,

sobbing and grieving?

why don’t you just kill me?

kick me ‘til i’m keeling

then just leave me,

knowing and bleeding

look at the monsters i’ve birthed

from all this agony, are you proud of me?

[natjennie]

watching the flashback scenes in redding weddy caressing my screen while a single silent tear falls, like a mourning army wife in the 40s with a locket. which is appropriate given the subject matter.

[charlyaster]

Blasting Storm from Epic The Musical because it's raining lots and windy and the noise terrifies me but it can't hurt me if I'm Odysseus of Ithaca

[tokaye]

spine now 🤗

[l-0ne-tired-comedian-l]

I’m sobbing so hard right now, damn you seniors— 😢

[samissobsessed]

Fucking finally.

[ishaiookh]

[weepingfoxfury]

The 'pushes buttons randomly' man on the radio is doing just that on this very wet Monday morning. Maybe the precipitation causes as much chaos for his coordination as it seems to for all the car drivers. The traffic lady's report consists of congestion and collisions. The usual man on the radio should be back tomorrow after the Eurovision extravaganza.

Another pretty plant rescued from the cut price shelf. Couldn't resist! Seed pods already forming, so looking forward to the flowers spreading across the garden. Also got a Salvia.

Other acquisition was a baby blanket. Another lost item that was left draped over a bollard. Lots of these adornments as you go through the shiny metropolis. They sit there for days. Most of the woolly hats I have were acquired in the same way. The baby blanket has been washed, dried and is now happily occupied by one of my dogs.

Flying jellyfish ... that's what I think about each time I look at these flowers. Remembering back to childhood days when we'd be on a family holiday ... swimming costumes and snorkels ... going out as far as I dared in the sea despite parental shouts ... gazing through the water at a world full of amazing aliens.

Long time since I've seen the sea.

Still ... the rain pours down, the water butt fills up and I can clutch my coffee and cast my mind back. I tilt my coffee cup as a toast to the photo bombing fly in the middle picture ... always fun to see photos afterwards ... concentration on one thing, and the unexpected waiting just around the corner ...

[blueandyellowdiamond]

[mrpicasso-face]

The air was eager to inform me

"Shes coming to see you."

At first,

I wasn't so sure.

But the clouds did indeed

Herald her arrival.

She's come to block the sun,

To offer me

Just

One

More

Day.