Perch @perchingpath@eldritch.cafe

Being called Perch is a precaution, in that if I'm transmogrified into the door of a sorceress's chateau for having knocked in an excessively flashy pattern, I'll eventually be able to say my name with a creak of my rusting hinges & thereby be freed.

Going to date this anonymous mynoise reviewer so we can lie abed murmuring to each other about how the hull can scarcely withstand these breakers & we may well drown in the night.

The morning after I've bought a shirt off somebody's merch table, remembering that I don't much wear tees anymore.

Put it on repeat, turn your headphones up until you lose your body every time you blink, fall back across the bed with your arms spread ready to float, feel waves & the wrecks around you, keep going until you cry or drown or come.
https://menaceruine.bandcamp.com/track/the-bosom-of-the-earth

Father Pujardov sees an amorphous blob float past in a slide of aqueous humour, says "My god...", & immediately devotes himself to Satan. I've never yet been able to get this effect by looking a priest in the eye, despite my persistent myodesopsia.

@perchingpath Been tense over this since I scheduled it, yet it took me 'til yesterday to think, "Oh, right, the fire that burnt down my house when I was small started in the ceiling of my room after some maintenance work."

Prepping to have an electrician replace my ceiling junction box, evaluating whether the current scatter of half-read books makes me look too trans, thinking about how I keep a neat & presentable space but there was definitely a douche bulb drying on the bathroom sill last time.

Vacationing as a pair of glowing eyes in the underbrush.

A game of being repeatedly killed (unprovokedly) & resurrected (inexplicably) on a cargo vessel. To win, send the ship to the seabed with all hands aboard including your new-minted saboteuse, both allowing her to rest and retroactively justifying the crew's murderousness.

I found a sharp little fragment of metal inscrutably half-embedded in my scalp, & because I'm ever such a Pollyanna I thought, "Oh! If I were a different type of paranoid this would be very difficult! I've just ducked a crisis!"

A name for your Steganographia.

@checkervest Jesus that's dismal. The last time I stayed in a motel that looked this... dank I was stuck there for most of a week, and literally as I left on my last day there were contractors starting to rip up carpet & strip walls. It was so satisfying to see my decor nemesis destroyed.

I said, "Well maybe someone's sending us some old hot-pink e-readers via slow boat from Shenzhen or maybe we got scammed, I'll know in July" and intangible mirrorshades formed over my eyes. It was gross, but I deserved no better.

When I changed my name from something deep blue to something deep red, I began wearing navy more often & using less burgundy on my nails. I didn't notice that as a balance I'd been maintaining until just now.

I wed the tycoon mayfly, and upon receiving his modest bequest am finally able to support my lover, a sweet-voiced cicada, in the manner which he deserves. But wait! Tragedy lies in our future.

My effortlessly swallowing 100mg of spiro, 180mg of fexofenadine, 600mg of calcium, & a couple more smaller pills in one go demonstrates that I am a creature adapted to my milieu despite all indications to the contrary, and that's why you must spare me in the next cull season.

A drunk boy in Old City tipped his oversize comedy sombrero at me gravely, as if we were parting after the funeral of an eccentric-willed relative.

No one told me about my great-grandfather's boyfriends until about a decade after the first time I came out. One can, in so many contexts, be the latest in a dotted line of people forced to be unprecedented.

This morning has been sensorially brutal but now I'm pressing my face into this foil-wrapped burrito to let its warmth seep into my clammy cheeks.