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Just came within a 15° bag-tipping angle of adding ~25 walnut-sized chunks of ginger root to this tomato sauce instead of the portobello pieces I meant to grab, at which point I'd have had to shovel in butter & cream cheese until it became frosting for a vast semi-savory cake.

The paint-on windows with the optical fibers that seep through walls are getting cheap, and I read that if you spread the slurry out thin & hit it with a uv light for a few hours before you add the activator packet you screw with their inside/outside sensing. I'm glad I don't live on the first floor.

"Now stand like bigfoot in that one still from '67."

Frilled, anemonish tissue expanding from the esophagus in ridges, clipping through the skin'n'bones without rupture, radiating seven inches in all directions, quivering in currents otherwise unknown.

Sometimes as you step into the cold after a show you need to turn to the first stranger who'll meet your eye & tell them that straight people shouldn't be allowed to touch each other in public.

What gives my dreaming vividity is, misfortunately, the precious circumstance of going back to sleep while already well-enough-rested. Today I found a haunted ship while wandering in the woods, and given the choice I'd have stayed there. Nearly all my good dreams are of places.

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Actually I've been getting musclier because I want to be able to walk for miles in a perfectly straight line, lifting every object, structure, & living thing obstructing my path & gently setting them to one side.

"Thank you! Thank you for calling me scary!"

Everything's lit and I can hear child-riotousness in the distance.

Pretty sure someone just shot me with a BB gun while I was toting my gallon of ear-soaking water past the lumberyard. Happy mischief night.

Still true despite my having been given a couple of very nice bracelets in the intervening 6 years.

Tonight's highlights were:
1. Witching's set
2. Witching's guitarist's* enthusiasm for the soap he was trying to sell me
3. The mouse that foraged around my boots while I was waiting for the 101

*(Or maybe it was the drummer? I don't remember people's faces that fast.)

Turns out if you're a white woman with a complicated purse you can absent-mindedly carry a knife through all sorts of security checkpoints.

This has been a bad night to be this alone.

It's a comfort to walk through the neighborhood & see likenesses of other ghosts, even if some aren't especially flattering.

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Eldritch Café

Une instance se voulant accueillante pour les personnes queers, féministes et anarchistes ainsi que pour leurs sympathisant·e·s. Nous sommes principalement francophones, mais vous êtes les bienvenu·e·s quelque soit votre langue.