#cry me another fkn river

[padfootastic]

hey hey hey since we’re popping in just for hot takes, here’s another one:

platonic. prongsfoot. isn’t. a. thing.

how many fucking times does this have to be said.

should i start tagging every remus and sirius interaction as platonic wolfstar??? clog up the whole goddamned tag for u????

honestly what is so hard to understand that a ship name denotes…A FUCKING SHIP

and in case it bears repeating: a ship is inherently non-platonic thank u very much. a ‘platonic ship’ is…wait for it…a friendship. there u have it. shocker i know.

[ziracona]

Dwight/Jake wedding headcanons maybe? They deserve it.

For sure!

It’s a couple years down the road. They’ve been living in the Indiana house with Adam, while the others orbit in and out from Springwood and Lockport and Haddonfield and Indianapolis and Bloomington and New Jersey and Missouri and New York and such every few days. It’s peaceful and fun there for them. Woods, big house, familiar smells and people and memorobelia and Ron’s grave and markers added nearby for Vigo and Alex and Lisa and Sujan and the person from the lab with no name and the survivors who came before them and never got to be buried. It’s home. They’re just chilling, Dwight and Jake talking with intent but also very relaxed about something while Adam edits a sequel in his easy chair, deep in edit mode, when Jake calls over, “Hey Adam, do you want to be a best man, or do you want to marry us?”

Which Adam hears the wrong homophone for for a second and almost takes him out before he realizes they meant the other version of ‘marry’ and remembers how to breathe again.

He stutters out a, “Well, I, uh—I mean, I can do whichever you’d prefer, but I’m not ordained. In. Anything. I know I did Min and Nea’s, but—”

“—Yeah, we know, but we just need it to be legal,” Jake shrugs, “and we don’t want a stranger at the wedding period, so someone’s getting ordained.”

“I think you can get ordained online in like an hour,” adds Dwight helpfully, “and we’re not religious either, but—and now that I’m saying this it was Meg so that means I should make sure becuase sometimes her memory for numbers is uhhh bad, but she told me like a week ago you only need ten people to officially get your new religion recognized. And we could be ‘the survivors’ or something. I don’t know I believe in much, but I believe in that.”

Jake nods. “Whatever is true, this group of people can rip a hole in the fabric of the universe for each other. I’d ascribe to that.”

“I kind of like that,” says Adam, “I would too. But if we have a spiritual ‘leader’, wouldn’t Ace be a better choice than me? Or Jane?”

This is considered a good point and they debate between Adam, Jeff, Tapp, Jane, and Ace for a bit, [Philip is also briefly considered, but they realize just as fast he’d be overwhelmed and stressed by having to do it & mercifully swap him to another role], then decide on Ace, who’s always been the kind of...not exactly dad, not exactly uncle, but not not those things, and certainly some kind of an early spiritual or morale core for them, parentish figure, and a comfort and hope leader for them all. Also, they know he’ll get a fkn kick out of being ordained for this.

Dwight takes Quentin as his Best Man, Claudette his Maid of Honor, and Jake takes Nea as Matron of Honor, Andrew as Best Man, and Meg as Maid of Honor. They decide fuck it, and it’s kinda Parks & Rec (an argument used by and against Jake many times the next few weeks) anyway, and also both take Adam and Philip as Best Men because fuck it, it’s too hard and also wedding rules are arbitrary and made to be broken, and so then Jake adds Kate as a bridesmaid, Dwight adds Laurie, they realize the number of survivors is dwindling dangerously and decide fuck it, our wedding is for us might as well be fkn weird and cool, and add David, Min, Tapp, Jane, Jeff, and Laurie as groomsmen and bridesmaids too. This still leaves Michael, Anna, Sally, Benedict, Susie, Jeff’s three Legion kids, and everyone’s families which is like fkn a lot of people, to be audience party (sans Nancy, who is pleaded with to be wedding party and run the music pre-reception because the number of people that they want involved /and/ who won’t give in to or be tricked by Meg into some kind of terrible flash mob stunt is very small, and in fact, basically is just Nancy. She is happy to do it and thinks their desperate reasoning is hilarious).

They break the news to Meg and Claudette and Ace first (after Adam), ask Ace to marry them, and tell Meg she can run post-weddding/reception music however she wants, except the songs for a couples dance & parent dances. She is /thrilled/. Claudette is very happy and cries. They call up Quentin & Nea to add to the conversation and Jake says Nea and Meg and Susie are in charge of setting up the wedding because he knows they’re gonna fight him for the role anyway, but they have to throw whatever they can together with only the stuff they own already and $50, they want only family & the other survivors/their families at the wedding, the service short and sweet, and to have it at the cabin, by the river. Meg loses her mind with indignance and joy together, and goes buckwild. They hit thrift shops for fairy lights and streamers and more.

Everyone is thrilled to be asked, Jane says “about time,” and Philip can’t think of anything to say and gets overwhelmed emotionally and taken off guard to be asked to be a groomsman. It’s sweet. Everyone with fashion sense takes everyone else shopping or through their wardrobes for fun wedding clothes and to at least have accent pieces that match a color theme. (Complimentary blues, yellow/gold, and pinks to the grooms’. More on that). It’s super fun & they make a fashion show of it. There’s no matching in form, just color, which is just the best version anyway there’s really no goddamn reason to spend thousands of bucks on a wedding when you could just have a funky cute good time with the people who love you & no stress.

Jake picks a deep blue hanbok (bc the hottest Jake I’ve ever seen is the one @eggchef did for lunar new year & the note in the tags about an actual hanbok has been banging around in my head ever since), and when they’re going through stuff for Dwight, he comments a pink one is surprisingly nice because it’s not the color he’d expected to think about, and Jake remarks offhand that if they do deep blue and pink they’ll be stealing their girls’ looks, and the second he says that, they both know there’s no other choice now. Dwight gets a light pink suit and a tie that matches Jake’s blue. They’re adorable and both look exceedingly handsome.

The wedding is short and perfect. Ace does a great job, it’s a nice day, and Meg works wonders with her $50 budget and (notably obscenely large) preexisting store of party supplies, + help from her mom who is passing down the legacy of being the best tiny budget party planner on earth. It’s very open, but with near arches and dangling glass and prisims that cast rainbows everywhere, lots of meaningfully chosen for their blessings and symbolism flowers and flower chains from Claudette. It’s a little reminiscent of the birthday decorations Min and Nea did plus the prisims, and that accidentally makes all the survivors super emotional like 1 minute in.

Only the moms get to speak in the wedding (besides Ace and the grooms), and Andrew and Meg and Nea and Quentin and such all gotta save their roasts for the reception. It’s sweet. Ace knows them super well and it shows in the best way. The grooms write their own vows, and both echo their statements in the hatch tunnel without knowing the other was going to do so too. Jake starts with an “I am deeply, unendingly, ridiculously in love with you,” and Dwight brings in a, “I wouldn’t be who I am without you.” They end it with Dwight saying, “Will you still stay with me, now that it’s all over? Through whatever we’re thrown to next?” And Jake replying, “Wherever you go, I’ll always follow.”

I cry.

The reception is a party by the house. It’s just a huge prepared buffet made by the family who can cook, so no one has to sit and wait. Meg starts the music with Cascada’s Evacuate the Dance Floor because she doesn’t “want to see people dragging their feet like a bunch of fuckin weenies, I want asses on that dance floor!” There’s a lot of 90s and early 2000s pop, but also many many classic dance songs. Lots of ABBA. Lots of it. Everyone has great fun. Min, Nea, Susie, and Meg made the playlist, except for a few of the specific dances. Muriel Fairfield’s mother-son dance with Dwight is to Song For Ten by Neil Hannon because he knows she’s a sweet big emotional nerd and it’s the song she wants, and he’s willing to do it, and she sobs and is a mess but also the happiest she’s been since the day she got the call he was alive.

They have literally zero idea where they’re going when they drive off for a honeymoon. They’re like “Uhh so I’ve been looking at our complete and utter lack of wedding structure and planning as a good thing? But we might have overstepped that a little here....”

Dwight drives while Jake searches the web for LGBT safe honeymoon locations because there’s nothing that would ruin a trip more than that not working out, and reads off a list and Dwight is like, “Wait wait holy fuck, I though you meant what US cities or maybe Canada. Switzerland? Do we even have cash for the plane fare somewhere like that?” And Jake just looks at the page silently for a few seconds, shuts the laptop, and without expression says, “...I really hate this, but I’m gonna let myself be a rich boy, just once.”

They take Andrew’s jet to New Zealand (Jake calls him and listens for 2 minutes then just monotone goes “Okay but you owe me for being a dipshit for fifteen years,” and they get the ride). Jake picks a relaxed pace and some scuba diving, some hikes, but no overnight camping. Lots of just seeing the world and holding hands and grinning at how absolutely breathless and shocked Dwight is at every chunk of nature like nothing he’s seen before. They are disgustingly, blissfully happy.

[ramblingshit]

Jane Eyre - 1996 - 2/5

what even is acting. what even is a script.

wasn't gonna do this one but fuck it's aunt petunia and rogue. here we go.

lots of credits fairo. more credits. damn fukin eh - i hear you're a wicked child! lol hi. now we're talking about hell and where bad people go. 'keep well and not die' ahaha m8. fkn reed putting seed in that she's a liar. teach her at her prospects, don't let her come back, she's a lying little shit take her away from here. he's appropriately scary oh shit she's saying this in front of the priest. damn tear that lady a new one. unruly, obstinate, wicked, deceitful, man these people hate kids who act out. walks in and damn she's on teh stool already - IS THAT THE LADY FROM PERSUASION. damn she just got here and he's telling everyone to not trust her, she doesn't get to eat and has to stand - she's just done hours of travelling fuckin assholes. IT IS THE LADY FROM PERSUASION. shes got dark hair and dark eyes and shes like glaring at everyone like shes onna kill him in their sleep. lol enjoy helen while she's alive. eatin bread and cheese in bed like she's not gonna get crumbs. omg telling these kids how to stand properly what why this lady hate her she's gonna cane her for not washing her hands. bish doesn't even flinch go helen. 'cleanliness is next to godliness' alright crazy. this school is a lot more chill than most of the others - they're laughing and doing what they want as well as learning and playing games. making jane out to be a pro artist. oh no ol mate saw her with her hair out. no dont cut it. 'vanity?' shes out here with naturally long, red and curly hair and he's out here calling her vain? because he recognises it as lovely she must be vain about it? what a fkn dickhole get off your high horse sexist moron pig anus head. what. he's saying her naturally  iwgh what i don't even understand his shit - it isn't offending him thats the issue its her naturally occuring sin and vanity (because her hair exists?) that is the issue??  what. lol go Jane. NO. oh fuck go Jane go. this guyyyy. don't do it Jane. chin held high she only does it when Helen nods at her to. DAAAAAAAAMN. took of her own bonnet. if Helen's hair goes so does Janes. they stood together looked at each other and flipped their heads over for him to go snip snip, bish looked shock and actually stepped back in horror. What a bae. Helen's fkn dying send help. fuck this lady should not be working with children considering how much she hates children. o shit where's helen. her beds all rolled up. can hear her hacking away in the distance. yikes that sounds bad. jane be creepin. oh fuck she's a terrible actress even as a kid. who honestly thinks its a good idea to hire her. she lying in her dying friend's bed and she's breathing all over her. isn't anna paquin australian? no? ah new zealand fairo. oh fuck Helen's daed. she's trying to squeeze out tears ahah oh no. she can't manage it. anna go back to new zealand you suck at acting who hired you ever. Riparoonies helen. that was actually the greatest jane and helen moment i've seen tbh. oh damn cool transition as she walked from helen's grave - she went from kid to adult. whats this part down the midde all of them got. Miss Temple fam, persuasion lady, fantastic lady, crying as Jane leaves like her mumma. this jane is long-flat-faced with a long protruding jaw, and very tall and skinny. thornfield looks like its already burned down ahaha. straight up castle here. she's got her drawing stuff as well as her bag. nice friendly ol mate meets her and opens the gates - big ass square this is some game of thrones shit yearh this place is like medieval more than victorian. the middle parted hair and the curled twists behind her head they're pretty much exactly the same in most Janes. all chillin and chatting about this together rather than completely separate. adele actually legit sounds french rather than just pretending? noice. dreary, cold, dark halls. her room is bright and airy with a four-poster bed and bay windows and lots of very nice furniture. river runs beside it; enormous tapestries; main gallery with lots of furniture and paintings and sculpures all covered in sheets with windows open to let in light; the doors are very large and heavy. Janes got a very long neck she looks legit like a fkn swan lmao. ooh a rochester backstory. well-travelled, intelliegent, can't tell if he's talking in jest or in earnest, or if he is pleased or irritated, not a happy man. they're just walking about in his rooms. the sun shines bright but cannot reach them through the thick mist. they're very soft-spoken. god her head is so far forward she's like the alien - long ass neck stretching forward and then her chin and jaw stretching wayyyy forward. wack wack anatomy.  it's very dark and dreary. she's off for a walk leaving adele to do like 5 sums. oh she's been here five minutes and they're already meeting. the music is like ... not appropriately intense? he just sorta looked at her, the horse tripped over and then he was on the floor and she's like whoops uh you alright bro. he's outright lying and pretending that he's not rochester his hair is grotty he's got like no hair on top they've just tries to scraggle it. this is so stunted and awkward. i hope it gets better. he's very gentle and she's pretty nonexistent to far. my god very gentle man. what. is he even rochester? that's a german shepherd. noice. playin chess by himself by the fire lol. this movie would be made infinitely better by an actual soundtrack. they're all chilling together again it's interesting - adele and fairfax and rochester and jane. wait she's been here 4 months. it literally didn't show anything about her chilling here. she talked back and now he's grumpy lol. what a terrible start compared to like... every other first convo. isn't she supposed to be not great at piano and yet she's teaching adele -- wait now we're at another convo between the duo. this convo is the other half of --- wait now we're talking sketches? jesus she hmm what are they talking about she's being forward and fuck her chin twists forward as she speaks she kinda looks like the wicked witch of the west. he's judging her drawings like he can do better. this is a mess? the best part about this so far is adele.  there's no sense of time. adele is gorgeous honestly. she's pale and gaunt with bags beneath her eyes. wait here's the next part of the conversation. blunt and brusque replies from her. god they're so obviously acting its painful. they have no chemistry because the CONVERSATION IS ALL OVER THE PLACE. they've done it on pruspose to try stretch things out a bit but like plz EY why he scrunch up the drawing wtf. 'and remember the shadows are as important as the light'. dudes. these are private conversations? it would be alright to try it more naturally but they're just not the kind of things you casually say. it's impersonal and there's no intimacy. sit there and watch a kid dance to the sound of a music box. he's so grumpy looking. now snapping at the kid. he's annoying. like a violent dude he feels more like a nice guy quick to snap - definitely kinda unhinged. and now drunk. hmm i don't like it. she told him not to be mean to adele and he rages about her mother, 'you've made adele feel unwanted and unloved' damn this Jane goes for the throat. she's too good for him I can see it now m8. he's a psycho run. red flag red flag. don't like it. lol he wake up like huh.... oh look beds on fire... huh... well suppose i should sort it out... huh... fuck they're barely acting huh. do they even want to be here. how much are these guys getting paid. he's literally a drunk. and has she had a drink in her life? she just went for it? omg so impersonal - isn't he supposed to be already half in love with her by this point? camera angle just flicks forward and back as the conversation goes on and when theres action it just pans back to the widest shot ever lol just show the entire scene why give any emphasis or focus to anything who needs reaction shots and feelings of being in it rather than observing it. fkn ey. he's literally just an angry blitering brooding drunk yikes. he's staring at her tits? these conversations man... he definitely just said jade instead of jane. m8 don't tell me he didn't. there's more intimacy between all the servants and jane and feeling more like an actual squad living together than there is any feeling between rochester and jane. adeles got a frog lol cute. 'you're a fool,' jane tells her reflection. this music is so shit it's bringing everything down. rochester, who's been an unfeeling ass the whole time, holds her hand once and now she's got a big crush on him. she's very spirited - to the point where she could too easily be cruel. like it's not just a repressed forcefulness it's like a hidden rage. can see her going mad and chopping someone up with icy rage and poised pleasure. wonder if i'm in a mood and interpreting this wrong? but honestly. dancing rochester now? instead of singing. adele is glaring at Mrs Ingram who just insulted jane lolol go kid she's definitely the best part. the background people actually make this place feel alive and natural, completely unlike their FUCKING AWFUL conversations. jesus what. god could you have two people less interested in each other? i think this fairfax knows about bertha. there's a 'tapestry bedroom'? lol what does that mean. they're dancing, playing cards, piano, the lot. oh the walls are literally covered in tapestries, that's creepy af. theres so much blood my dude would be dead yo. will hurt like doesn't know how to act. wwait theyve skipped my 'fav scene'?? theyre shaking hands again, wtf is this. wait what shes just met stjohn n he;s the one telling her all about the reeds? petunias dying 'love me then or hate me as you will - you have my full and free forgiveness' - i cant forgive any version that misses that out: its so powerful as part of her character. stalking her while he smokes in the dark what a creeper. 'how cuold you be so stupid!' lol fight him Jane i dont even know how we got to kissing likr the movie is almost 2 hours and yet it feels SO rushed. literally took away all the secret courting and his sneaky declarations. shes a modern woman trapped in an old age.  she is so skinny. and with entirely stiff expressions. ew he makes me so uncomfortable. theyre not even trying lol. acting ey acting have u heard of it. just left jane at the altar like bye bitch.shes just in a giant empty ugly room. bertha is a very young and frightened girl but also very sick in the typical long white dress and long dark hair. god this guy is a whingebum. bertha understands everything he's saying. oh yikes lol she just whipped a log from the fire and went after Jane and Jane just put her veil back down with like a sigh turned and yeeted slowly away long ass veil over a white bonnet, silk cape thing in a dark hallway walking all miserable. she's outies lol he's just let her walk out? i love u and i love u. bye. bertha's taken another log from the fire and lit the wedding dress on fire along with the house ahaha. wait he let her leave the house then ran after her on horseback but had to stop after bertha lit the place on fire it started burning and we're actually seeing it happen? interesting. the house is burning, pepople are running, bertha's on the battlements and rochester is going up there to --oh fuck grace poole got yeeted over by bertha oh she's flying ahahaha jumped down to where she threw grace poole. rochesters in the fire. jane's off and racing. it's all happened at once. she went to stjohns, didn't even get dumped in teh marshes but down she goes after chilling in a coach for 3 days. shes been there a month. her jaw is so long and forward its creepy. again one fo the few telling her that she's wealthy from inheritance from her uncle. more backstory. she was deeply loved by her parents, now she's wealthy, lifes looking up but she's all upset after than asshole lol move on and be happy. she's hearing his voice on the wind like please chill. damn 6months. what. um. he's very awkwardly trying to propose? but its like the last half of the conversation with the first bit just cut out. so weird. she looks normal face-on. oh she decides after the proposal to go back - none of that chasing after voices nonsense. whoops that shit burned downnn. doggoooo is still alive. what a good boy. fuck me there's like no anticipation, no intensity, no build-up, no chemistry, it's so dry and cold and heartless. christ acting. act. acting. act. please. act. what is happening. act. she has the neck of a swan ol mate. fucking gross. their words are stilted, and not romantic in the slightest and especially not in their delivery. theyre walking with no kids but the dog but they're talking about the kids. oh my god. that was pretty fkn awful. like seriously not good.

[wendylewis-blog]

05.14.2020 /MamasDay+M-Th

Mamas’ Day

My friend Annie sent me a link this morning. I’m embarrassed that I never knew the actual history of Mothers’ Day.  I’ve made the grave mistake for years, it appears as of this morning, dismissing the event as just another Hallmark holiday created to ramp up national consumerism—out of sincerity or duty. Actually, the bigger story has been omitted from American history. The patriarchy (not YOU, men I love) strikes again! There is real feminist significance attached to this day, which deserves not only our attention—but also, our reverence. 

Teaser. “Mothers’ Day”—with the apostrophe not in the singular spot, but in the plural—actually started in the 1870s, when the sheer enormity of the death caused by the Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War convinced American women that women must take control of politics from the men who had permitted such carnage. Mothers’ Day was not designed to encourage people to be nice to their mothers. It was part of women’s effort to gain power to change modern society.  

Thank you, Heather Cox Richardson. I suggest following her with an easy click at the end of the link and/or follow her on Twitter. She posts daily, is politically savvy and keeps it concise/in-depth/readable. 

After canceling the initial Mothers’ Day plan with H/G/bbE/K because of bad weather, which would have put us inside the house, Kitty ended up in CF anyway to grab items I’d purchased for her at Costco. We spent an hour outside in the chilly grey afternoon by the fire pit after gathering kindling and firewood. She brought me brownies, a herby Italian verde sauce she’d made and a bottle of rye whiskey. H/G/bbE surprised me an hour later with a request via text to come into the yard in five minutes and brought tomato and pepper plants (woot!) for my garden. We all watched Ezra TV in the driveway for an hour. We especially enjoyed the episode featuring him teething on the steering wheel. Creative work, little man! 

After they left, I poured myself a stiff drink and stared out the studio window into early evening. A gentle rain was falling. I let circumstance go, let sadness and angst go. I washed my turgid blackboard down and tried to embrace some peaceful emptiness. I was in bed long before 10pm, sliding willingly into the time warp sleep provides for me lately. It was another bittersweet time with my people—not touching, not sitting at a table together, not able to relax into each other the way we would have a couple months ago. But, they are my family and it is never a diminishing return to be with them. Thank you for driving down to see us even though we had called the gathering off. It was a good Mothers’ Day. I love you all more than I can express!

My dreams that night were flush with all things post-apocalyptic. I was in an office building transformed into a flophouse of endless lonely cubicles, bare mattresses thrown down on synthetic grey carpet, bland tan fabric divider walls too short and porous to provide any privacy, a random empty chair here and there—askew, the bathroom’s flickering florescent light pulsing numbly through its plastic diamond-textured ceiling panel. I felt a disconnected calm inside me—a dead calm as I moved through the building. Everyone I saw in there was a stranger—except for an old bandmate I ended up in bed with— so impossible and surreal. It wasn’t the act, gratefully omitted, but the aftermath scenario instead—exposed, mannequin-esque bodies, no desire, no connection, no tenderness—only his crushing possessiveness after I explained that I had many other lovers even though I knew they didn’t matter either. I turned his noise off undramatically, easily as his panic escalated—the click of a switch—like turning off bad radio. He vanished, seemed to dematerialize on the dark street, leaving only strangers hanging on the corners, propped against buildings, inert yet somehow, guardian—but I felt nothing—nothing at all. Alive but dead inside. 

Mon

I woke up at 4:30AM. Shared dream details with B before he headed off to a fresh pot of coffee and work. I always benefit from his insightful (often hilarious) perspective on my intrepid darknesses, asleep or awake. In a previous issue of Lockdown, I’d queried how the virus and physical distancing might affect our intimacies going forward, the dream standing as the latest metaphor. I laid back down, folding into the quiet of my bed and may have slept awhile longer, still rising before dawn. 

Hours were spent in my garden that morning turning over soil in the crisp air, laying straw tiles separated from the bale in the wheelbarrow after cutting the blue plastic string. I laid them over the mulch that had cooked over the summer of 2019, which I’d lovingly spread a few days prior, prepping the ground for seeds that are en route to me: bush beans, marigolds, arugula, mustard, zinnia and nasturtium seeds from my sister, cilantro and basil from Etsy and those MD tomato and pepper seedlings from H+G. It’s been difficult to find non-GMO seeds around here—the same way it’s still hard to find TP, hand sanitizer, and lately, yeast and flour. I planted cilantro, Mexican tarragon, and basil plants I’d found in Northfield in pots, thyme and mint along garden edge that meets my front stoop. 

The morning felt hushed, orderly—my act of civility engaging with living things that don’t speak but offer company and require only my willingness to share a piece of earth with them. Before the sun reached over the garden, I decided to put in one cherry tomato plant because a tomato cage represented future sustenance. I could imagine the little plant growing tall to fill the cage, yellow flowers appearing before the fruit. It felt romantic and I succumbed. I watered everything, filled the bird feeder and headed off to Redwing to run an errand.

It felt good to drive the winding two-lane roads between overwintered, as yet unturned spring fields, slipping down the bluff lines along the Cannon River, the sun all full of itself. The sky was cerulean blue with tiny cotton ball clusters of clouds. The world beyond my windshield seemed serene and normal—even pastoral—a momentary ruse worth believing against the numbing dripdripdrip of our internment. Returning home, I cleaned the kitchen with a similar communion felt with the garden and highways. FaceTimed with a friend and planned a fire pit hootenanny with him and a few friends soon, walked the dog and sat on the stoop overlooking the yard. We ate soup from B’s mama for dinner (thank you, Helen), brought in the tender herb pots for the night and was ready to sleep before 8:30, a rarity for me. I have to say, it felt like a pretty good day! I count them all, good or not. 

Tues

It dipped just below freezing again last night and I really thought that sweet li’l cherry tomato plant that looked so sturdy yesterday could handle it but, ooof!—it’s droopy, quietly murdered overnight. Another casualty of Corona Times, like a broken promise, a breach of trust. I jerked it out of the ground without any tenderness and tossed it into the yard where it will eventually make love with mower blades and clipped grasses. I was mad at myself, of course. It’s just one tomato plant and I have more perched on the radiator under the south facing window, lined up like fresh recruitments ready for service. Still, each seedling, especially this year, feels like an individual. 

I’m alarmed with the message being conveyed by the White House in recent days—normalizing the loss of life, the US population being at least encouraged and possibly forced back into a virulent world with the expectation that we can save the collapsing economy. The grim reaper is leaning casually on his sickle next to my dead tomato plant, the one I exposed to the elements too soon, the one I planted with careless impunity to serve my immediate desire. 

Please listen to this conversation on Pema Chodron’s book When Things Fall Apart. I ordered it after years of intending to and it’s on the way. I will set it on the bookshelf next to my worn copies of Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, the Tao te Ching and Dillard’s For the Time Being. Reference books for being alive, human and uncertain. 

JFTR. On Being continues to win me over. Here’s another one if you decide to check it out. She’s really smart and this guest, Ocean Vuong—brilliant. 

Wed 

A beautiful essay penned by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s son Rodrigo. Thanks, C, for sending—and for the seeds which arrived today. I didn’t plant more today because still freezing overnight. 

My college roommate long friend Toni linked me to this article over the weekend. It was SO fkn HELPFUL. It breaks down how the virus gets spread in a very practical way that you can use every day. This article is exactly why my fam and I reeled ourselves back from having lunch inside my house on Mothers’ Day. Everyone agreed.

Colbert has been killing it, as always and this one—so spot on. Also, Seth Meyers’ latest episode—I mean, please! Trump’s Mothers’ Day bit is truly—uhhnbelievable. Waking up to the absurdity of what is happening right now as it rolls and rolls. I also truly live for these socially distanced performances with Jimmy Fallon and The Roots. They make me joy-cry. 

There are good ppl out there doing their best. We are all trying to do our best, even on our hardest days. Beating the zombies back one by one. Don’t believe that the angry gun-toting ppl are coming for us. They are few. We are many. It’s time to activate.

I’ve noticed lately I’m getting a sense for when Jimmy Fallon or Stephen Colbert, for example, might be having a bad day. They aren’t on stage anymore, they don’t have a responsive audience to pump them up, they are people like we are, broadcasting from their homes. They struggle with life under the pandemic just the way we do. I can feel when they are having to get up for another broadcast from home or lapsing in attention, disengaging or losing the thread with someone they are interviewing. It’s an subtle nuance to notice, and it makes me feel as if I am getting a brief peek into their humanity instead of simply watching them put on the show.

I’ve also been making... um, haha... bread—the kind of bread you have to knead and let rise and punch down and knead and let rise again and so on. I finally got some active dry yeast and made two sandwich loaves a week ago. On my second round yesterday, I pushed my 20+ year old Kitchen Aide stand mixer beyond its limit. Smoke drifting from the housing, dough hook seizing up, goodbye trusty appliance. 

While the dough was going through its rising process, I searched DIY fixes which were plentiful and also searched for parts through the Kitchen Aide website, discovering they—are—not—selling—them. Really? Boo on you, Kitchen Aide. You won’t force me to buy a $400 mixer ever again. Double boo on you, assumed capitalism. Until I’m able to find the parts I need via Etsy or wherever (NOT Amazon ever again), I’ll use the mixer my mother-in-law offered me since she doesn’t use it much and remind myself of the days when I used to knead bread by hand—that ancient task. Again—get it together, Lewis! 

I’ll leave you with this brilliant essay from The Paris Review called Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over. Thank you, Byrdie, for tagging me on this one. I’m still gonna make the bread one way or another because it saves money but I’ll keep the wise words from the authors mother closest to my heart, which translates loosely into stop holding on so tight to what you think you need.

Thurs

So, I’ve been writing today and editing and writing more and editing more. It’s all about thinking and re-thinking everything with nothing on my plate but time staring up at me. There is a strange blessing that has a chance to bloom inside this isolation. 

Go gently, my friends, family and any strangers who may be stopping by. Thanks for being here with me. I really appreciate you, wherever you are today.

Stay safe. Be strong. Fall apart. Know you aren’t alone. Lovelove. 

[leakedinlondon]

Hey Courtney I'm going on my first over seas flight in 5 days time (like 20 hours or something with a brief lay over???) and I'm in desperate need of book recs. 21 year old female I like Harry Potter, dystopian future stuff, gay stuff especially wlw and also really love shitty cheesey light hearted stuff like Janet Evanovich. Would love your opinion!

tragically, i hav not read a lot of wlw books bc i’m a picky bitch about genres and a lot of the ones i know about are realistic fiction which i ain’t big on but i do recommend checking out Malinda Lo i rly like Adaptation which features a bi love triangle and aliens and has a part where some dude is talking about aliens and just starts humming the x files theme and that dude is me also i have heard v good things about Ash and Huntress but my bookstore doesn’t sell them and i’m like???? why

ok SO i hav a v v long dystopian masterpost if ur down to go through it but i’ll give u my faves from it here!!!!

Chaos Walking by Patrick Ness

Prentisstown isn't like other towns. Everyone can hear everyone else's thoughts in an overwhelming, never-ending stream of Noise. Just a month away from the birthday that will make him a man, Todd and his dog, Manchee -- whose thoughts Todd can hear too, whether he wants to or not -- stumble upon an area of complete silence. They find that in a town where privacy is impossible, something terrible has been hidden -- a secret so awful that Todd and Manchee must run for their lives.

these books!!!! are everything!!!!! if you haven’t read them u 100% should i swear they’re so fkn good

Unwind by Neal Shusterman

The Second Civil War was fought over reproductive rights. The chilling resolution: Life is inviolable from the moment of conception until age thirteen. Between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, however, parents can have their child "unwound," whereby all of the child's organs are transplanted into different donors, so life doesn't technically end. Connor is too difficult for his parents to control. Risa, a ward of the state, is not enough to be kept alive. And Lev is a tithe, a child conceived and raised to be unwound. Together, they may have a chance to escape and to survive.

i would die for Lev literally die for him at any given second this is also a very good series

The Passage by Justin Cronin

An epic and gripping tale of catastrophe and survival, The Passage is the story of Amy—abandoned by her mother at the age of six, pursued and then imprisoned by the shadowy figures behind a government experiment of apocalyptic proportions. But Special Agent Brad Wolgast, the lawman sent to track her down, is disarmed by the curiously quiet girl and risks everything to save her. As the experiment goes nightmarishly wrong, Wolgast secures her escape—but he can’t stop society’s collapse. And as Amy walks alone, across miles and decades, into a future dark with violence and despair, she is filled with the mysterious and terrifying knowledge that only she has the power to save the ruined world.

haven’t gotten around to reading the last book in this series yet but they are seriously epic like i swear this series is something else entirely

Maggot Moon by Sally Gardner

What if the football hadn’t gone over the wall. On the other side of the wall there is a dark secret. And the devil. And the Moon Man. And the Motherland doesn’t want anyone to know. But Standish Treadwell — who has different-colored eyes, who can’t read, can’t write, Standish Treadwell isn’t bright — sees things differently than the rest of the "train-track thinkers." So when Standish and his only friend and neighbor, Hector, make their way to the other side of the wall, they see what the Motherland has been hiding. And it’s big...One hundred very short chapters, told in an utterly original first-person voice, propel readers through a narrative that is by turns gripping and darkly humorous, bleak and chilling, tender and transporting.

this book broke my damn heart and ruined my life but oh my god it’s so good also a lil gay but like i said sad but it’s more 2 do with the setting like.... it doens’t have a happy ending but it felt right like that?????

More Than This by Patrick Ness

A boy drowns, desperate and alone in his final moments. He dies.Then he wakes, naked and bruised and thirsty, but alive.How can this be? And what is this strange deserted place?As he struggles to understand what is happening, the boy dares to hope. Might this not be the end? Might there be more to this life, or perhaps this afterlife?

this is my favorite book!!!!!! i would die for it!!!! i want to buy enough copies to fill an entire room of my house so i can just sit in it and cry!!!! this book is literally everything!!!! also gay!!!! she’s also sad but like...... i cannot express in words how much u need to read this damn book 

Bird Box by Josh Malerman

Something is out there, something terrifying that must not be seen. One glimpse of it, and a person is driven to deadly violence. No one knows what it is or where it came from.Five years after it began, a handful of scattered survivors remains, including Malorie and her two young children. Living in an abandoned house near the river, she has dreamed of fleeing to a place where they might be safe. Now that the boy and girl are four, it's time to go, but the journey ahead will be terrifying: twenty miles downriver in a rowboat--blindfolded--with nothing to rely on but her wits and the children’s trained ears. One wrong choice and they will die. Something is following them all the while, but is it man, animal, or monster?

another one of my all time faves!!!!!! i don’t even know what to say this is a masterpiece

ok so here we move on to the more fantasy and gay stuff these are less sad 

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone...A convict with a thirst for revengeA sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wagerA runaway with a privileged pastA spy known as the WraithA Heartrender using her magic to survive the slumsA thief with a gift for unlikely escapes Kaz's crew are the only ones who might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

this is.... so good.... also a little gay... hav heard the second book in the series is gayer but i haven’t read her yet

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

That's what his roommate, Baz, says. And Baz might be evil and a vampire and a complete git, but he's probably right. Half the time Simon can't even make his wand work, and the other half, he sets something on fire. His mentor's avoiding him, his girlfriend broke up with him, and there's a magic-eating monster running around wearing Simon's face. Baz would be having a field day with all this, if he were here - it's their last year at Watford School of Magicks, and Simon's infuriating nemesis didn't even bother to show up. Carry On is a love letter to love stories and the power of words - to every 'chosen one' who ever had more on their mind than saving the world...

this book is literally just harry potter but gay and i’m still laughing i love it

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

The monster showed up after midnight. As they do.But it isn’t the monster Conor’s been expecting. He’s been expecting the one from his nightmare, the one he’s had nearly every night since his mother started her treatments, the one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming…This monster is something different, though. Something ancient, something wild. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor.It wants the truth.

can u tell i’m a fan of patrick ness i’m going to fucking fist fight him for this piece of shit like.... this book.... is about a little kid..... whose mother has cancer....... like u know it’s gonna be a fucking bad time but u read it anyway and u cry like a fucking baby but u enjoy the whole damn thing because u hate urself.... it’s a beautiful read but it hurts (((also yes there is a Literal Monster hanging around))

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble.But Gansey is different. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little.For as long as she can remember, Blue has been told by her psychic family that she will kill her true love. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

the description of this book doesn’t do it justice and i hate it i love these books i love my stupid raven kids i mainly love adam parrish who i would die for in a second ((also gay)) ((please read them if u haven’t i love adam so much he’s worth it)) ((the other characters are also amazing and i lov them too))

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Children can have a cruel, absolute sense of justice. Children can kill a monster and feel quite proud of themselves. A girl can look at her brother and believe they’re destined to be a knight and a bard who battle evil. She can believe she’s found the thing she’s been made for.Hazel lives with her brother, Ben, in the strange town of Fairfold where humans and fae exist side by side. The faeries’ seemingly harmless magic attracts tourists, but Hazel knows how dangerous they can be, and she knows how to stop them. Or she did, once.At the center of it all, there is a glass coffin in the woods. It rests right on the ground and in it sleeps a boy with horns on his head and ears as pointed as knives. Hazel and Ben were both in love with him as children. The boy has slept there for generations, never waking.Until one day, he does…As the world turns upside down, Hazel tries to remember her years pretending to be a knight. But swept up in new love, shifting loyalties, and the fresh sting of betrayal, will it be enough?

Hazel is literally me okay there is a scene in this book where she’s at a fairy party and u kno how ur not meant to eat or drink anything fairies give u or ur fucked???? hazel ingests fucking fairy wine bc it was in the mouth of some fairy girl she was making out with and if that isn’t me i don’t know what is (((also that’s the only scene that she shows any interest in girls i am very sorry i don’t want to get ur hopes up))) ((ben on the other hand he is very gay and is also me they are both me i love these two idiots this book just makes me really happy))