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yamamanamacrucifixus - in which I connect Italian Fascism and neoconservatism, wonder what Gamingforce would think of everything that’s happened, someone celebrates their birthday, and we discuss Tupac and the rest of the Funky Bunch.
glimpses of hope in trying times - in which I come to the conclusion that real life is in fact as absurd as the Simpsons, it’s just absurd in different ways, and I watch a movie with Dean Cain that isn’t even in his top five worst movies.
in our time - in which I see art and hear pastoral music and requiems inappropriate for the current season and Molly remembers me from the last time I drew her.
ashen like the sky - in which Kiwi Farms supports Tulsi in order to sow chaos.
lost causes - in which I visit the Peabody Essex Museum before the class 3 killstorm arrives and am surprised by Nello’s continued existence in the year 2019.
where darkness spreads - in which the streets are covered in ice so I decline a visit to the MFA, meet a chameleon and true fire skink, and three ferrets.
no rest for the wicked - in which Julia eats a sandwich and Greg gets a new pupper.
before the dark - in which two owls are released and a goose succumbs to lead poisoning while Larry Correia and friends attempt a love bombing campaign to someone oblivious.
the hours pass - in which I compare Mozart and Shakespeare.
spiral-galaxy - in which I rant about the latest Freedom House report and learn about Julia’s cats.
into witchgrass and milkweed - in which winter has changed since I was in college, someone archives what.cd but now I can't find it, Sarah Hoyt says something profoundly sexist and stupid, and I see sculptures and paintings at the Edward M. Kennedy institute.
illusion of movement - in which the wildlife center obtains some echinoderms and I meet guinea pigs named Rick and Morty.
symmetry - in which I see the Botticelli exhibit at the Gardner museum but miss a Nepalese sarangi player and American guitarist.
Perhaps the Wildest Sound That Is Ever Heard Here Making the Woods Ring Far and Wide - in which I screw myself in the Half Truth Realmz scenario and Christabel tells us tales of raccoons.
remaining stretches - in which I ask people about bones, TJ plans to make prison wine no matter how disgusting it might taste, I somehow defeat the Dark Magus Sisters in FFX despite making a major blunder, and Tim Pool proposes a large-scale Democratic Underground jury system to replace human moderation, which would result in a massively inefficient system at best and at worst, allow the toxic elements in a community to drive out any opposition and take control.
heirs of an empire long passed away - in which I am too distracted by my bladder to chat with people, see an opera about Nero, and blame track work for time being out of joint.
bleak spaces - in which ordinary sour candy doesn’t impress Daniela and we look for snakes in the ceiling.
proteus - in which Myspace admits to baleeting their music, I hear songs of leaving Ireland and explanations of why the psychedelic movement faltered, and see a baby bat.
never, and again - in which an artist talks about becoming an artist and being a student, members of the Mad Genius Club advocate genocide and think the deep state faked an actual shooting, and I can’t find a godawful cover with Google’s help.
passing through, passing away - in which I hear a Mahler symphony in Plymouth, eat Thai food and learn that there is at least one TV station devoted to golf, and walk past a chapel called New Hope, where their sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped them conjure up the stolen data tapes or given them clairvoyance enough to find the Rebels’ hidden fortress.
elsewhere is a negative mirror - in which people eat food and check out animals, Veronica and Michael talk about how Google does evil things so we don’t have to make shit up.
chain of events - in which I beat Mithril Vault by exploiting Cloud of Cleavers and the dumb AI because they expect you to powerlevel from 16 after beating White Dragon to 29, and praise its premise, the wildlife center receives its first batches of baby raccoons of the year, and I remark that cuisine is getting less diverse even in places that are getting more diverse, but can’t blame Trump for it.
the acolyte's burden - in which Emily discusses zodiac compatibility, someone holds a lecture about the rise of fascism, and I see a double feature of opera with Gabriella.
the weight of vengeance - in which we have a lot of animals in boarding, Notre Dame catches fire and the fascists and radical centrists and religious conservatives unite in taking advantage of it and falling for their own conspiracy theories, and I desire to live in a cyberpunk dystopia where I can get bionic limbs or maybe a set of gills from a black market surgeon.
walking in a mist - in which I get angry at Chick-Fil-A for strong-arming Boloco instead of taking over an empty location that pretends that it still has Noon’s Mediterranean in it and meet people with ethnic names.
prelude to the tragedy - in which I see an opera about the romance between Helen and Paris and have Venezuelan food but first have to deal with a medical emergency in which I’d have gotten to my destination earlier had I just waited at JFK/UMass, but at least meet Steven, who has blue hair, and Ashley, who has pink hair and is red-hot in quantum mechanics, submolecular biology, and TV theme songs.
destroyer of illusions - in which Amazon sells a book few people have heard of for a very large number of dollars and I decline to buy it, not only because I don’t have the money but because I suspect a scam, find a taxonomy of political identities, the right gets up in arms about Mortal Kombat yet again, and we get an osprey and a swan.
rains lit by neon - in which Mahler’s 5th symphony is paired with Charles Ives’ Third Symphony instead of a concerto or the Emperor Waltz.
status quo ante - in which there are flowers at the MFA and I make the mistake of going there on Members Night, in which time is scarce and everyone there wants to see the flowers.
what the winds & days may bring- in which foxes and bunnies show up, a squirrel gets released, I wonder why nobody’s ever made jazz with medieval or renaissance instruments, Tritoch has a conversation with a spambot, Styphon cleans up, and Hydelloon and Denicalis holds his one hundred millionth unattended stream.
mad shadows - in which we are in fact living in a cyberpunk future and I make an addendum about how surveillance in America is done by corporations like Facebook and social control is done by people on sites like Kiwi Farms.
echoes from time's garden - in which I am happy about the Mayfair getting delayed.
a fleeting glimpse - in which an osprey shows up, Denmark elects a true populist government and the weather forecast for the Mayfair settles on something.
events in a high wind - in which it rains on the first two sets at the Mayfair but at least Arc Iris gets to play, which is the sole reason I am there, and the chalk art is all ruined and naught but ghosts remain.
fatalities - in which I propose that Kano play a game of knifey-spooney with his victims before ripping out their hearts and fail to remember more than five people’s names.
hello, stranger - in which I meet someone who recognized me but I do not think to ask where she went to college.
exiles - in which Mary shows up at the Cambridge River Arts Festival which this year is not at a river to do a Mermaid Promenade and I buy Armistice for only a dollarydoo and a quarter.
remembering days of yore - in which I fail to remember anyone’s name, some raccoons are moved outside, and I lament the existence of a movie called Psycho Wedding Crasher that does not have any killing in it and say that one day I’ll post my thoughts on every song played regularly on WAAF when I still listened, no matter how many Creed and Limp Bizkit songs I’d have to listen to, but not now, when I have wistful piano pop and wistful guitar pop and 20th century choral music to listen to instead.
with every brilliant hue - in which a pride parade is held and a dance event is held and someone buys Amnesty from Harvard Books before I get the chance to.
while my heart is still bleeding - in which Karen dissects a pregnant guinea pig.
we love our rotting industrial dystopia - in which the MBTA suffers a cascade failure and Lyft takes advantage in the only way they know how, that is to say, by gouging, my meal is unexpected but still delicious, and I conclude that climate change has happened in a way completely unlike Gold Fame Citrus and am unable to suspend my disbelief unlike with Nier because it never rains in Nier but there’s also no sun, and Google tries to convince me I am going crazy but it backfires.
bound in darkness - in which Amazon is so preoccupied with whether they can sell expired Trader Joe’s products that they never stopped to consider if they should, Karen cuts up another pregnant guinea pig, Sara celebrates her birthday by seeing a basking shark and some whales, and we release animals and learn about fatherhood.
a taste of the divine - in which I eat an empanada, a shrimp taco, and a bowl of raspberry lime sorbet, meet a woman who is making art from old books, it rains for ten minutes and the sound crew nopes on out of there, fucking up the entire schedule at Make Music, and discuss cats and McDonalge with Isabelle.
the reinvention of war - in which I conclude that Trump’s base is indifferent towards war as long as refugees are barred, praise Jurassic Park’s special effects, and show people around the wildlife center.
last exit to fairyland - in which I find the MIT museum transformed, I get the wrong but still delicious type of wrap at Aleppo Palace, and meet two actors on the train ride home.
forest hymn - in which the TERFs are planning to stay at home or vote third party in the next presidential election because they want to punish others but can’t bring themselves to actually vote Trump.
summer rain - in which I occasionally deviate from “jazz, boston music, and new albums by already-known bands” in my listening habits.
moments in golden light - in which Stewart sings about how you shouldn’t deforest the moon, if only there were forests there in the first place.
be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain - in which Emma recommends Tatte, because if there’s one thing Israelis are really good at, it’s food.
body horror - in which I feel like I am surrounded by the shadow of a lich and see paintings of rotting corpses and then go get a curry chicken roti because I’m desensitized to gore, Ross Perot dies and I’m bewildered that anyone who calls themselves left, even Democratic Underground, which trends white and old and well-off, is mourning him.
future's bright - in which I meet plenty of dogs and meet a woman with reptilian and arthropod tattoos and learn that I really don’t need as much chili oil as I put in, a train collides with a shard of time and I meet a woman with a dog and a woman with a carved wooden board.
death comes home - in which Abby gives her price for eating raccoon cuisine, does the Safety Dance but not Magic Dance.
a corruption of moonlight - in which the rains fall and we’re moved indoors and people don’t shut the fuck up during the intro music and Leroy Anderson’s summer skies seems as appropriate as Frank Sinatra’s Summer Wind in Blade Runner 2049, I hear people speaking in Japanese and watching videos subtitled in Turkish.
a change in the weather - in which a wet summer is more aptly described as a summer with no more than the usual number of wet days but a lot more wetness on those days.
after the flood - in which it rains quite intensely and I find Ammonite by Nicola Griffith and the Tall Chair Brigade discovers the phalanx formation.
the green country - in which a performance of Cymbeline happens and I meet tattooed people.
feast of lights - in which I run into old friends at Figment, both regulars and passersby.
terra incognita - in which I journey to lands unknown to hear a BLO concert and buy Thai food and The Lathe of Heaven in those lands and discuss art with Rachel, who is definitely pansexual and therefore prefers warm colors, and most likely Jewish.
flies and spiders - in which Emma lets a spider live because she’s just hanging out near Valley and I learn that there is a D&D campaign setting in an environmentally degraded fairyland.
the burden of other people's thoughts - in which it rains despite low chances and so I don’t see Gabriella but do get to see the Archer season finale, and I meet people with tattoos
from the painter's hand - in which I suspect that right-wing killers are targeting people to shift demographics in their favor and meet people with tattoos.
we burn our eyes to see the light - in which Caitlin makes a mess, Emma eats cookie dough, and I listen to music in preparation for rain-related disappointment.
a million sparks - in which a haiku contest is held, it rains despite the chance dropping to 20%, they are miraculously able to secure a rain location, and I meet a woman who studies flute.
voices in the dark - in which I compare The Lathe of Heaven with a Goosebumps book with a similar premise but a much much worse execution, learn that the Simpsons actually do see Carmen in Russian because it was the only recording they could get the rights to, and speculate that Tool’s next album will have a red version of Fear Inoculum’s cover.
a mirror seen in mist and pearl - in which the Landmarks Orchestra puts on an Antarctica-themed symphony in summer to show up the BSO holding pastoral symphonies in the winter but we get some horribly unpleasant moist and cool weather anyway.
in the air - in which Gentle Temper and Brigit Smith play outside Faneuil Hall and I take advantage of Piperi being open, and Greenfest relocates to somewhere more green, and I meet someone who was born on July 6 and was excited to ride the Orange Line for the first time in ever.
in the wind - in which I miscalculate how long it takes me to get from Braintree to Aquarium, discover the many uses of ginger beer, and demand that Bashar al-Assad pay for the Red-Blue connector but make good connections anyway.
upon us - in which I meet dogs and musicians.
as lethargic as time - in which 4chan falls for their own manufactured outrage and Joshua Mooooooon spends thousands of dollars keeping his asshole website for jerks up and I read The Butterfly Revolution.
ghost songs - in which I determine that the weather is a way to balance out the serendipity I’ve been having because Ashley isn’t around to be a counterweight anymore, and the Monastery of Madness gets its hands into the US government.
less is a bore - in which artists reject minimalism, David Koch dies, and my food leaks and I have to put lavender and yarrow in my bag.
misplaced in time - in which I meet an artist and a few actors, see art about time and a performance of Measure For Measure.
the library of dreams - in which I discover the Internet Archive’s motherlode of out of print books.
beyond the wasteland - in which I describe how to get Fallout 2 running on Virtual Box and speculate on Windows’ success and see various sailor’s valentines and paintings.
conceptions of celestial space - in which I run into Allisandra and meet her friends, meet a woman with Greek tattooing and a woman with tattoos of the planets and a woman who was at the Fuzztival, hear excerpts from the BLO’s latest season, and meet a woman from Bulgaria and a woman reading the Outsiders prepared to be sad because I thought she’d be born after I last read that book.
sere - in which Nicole is overwhelmed with admissions and I play through Fallout.
live for the future, long for the past - in which it rains far too much for September and delays a concert but it still wasn’t as bad as the Mayfair even if they did have the biggest beer garden I’ve ever seen.
lizard people from deep time - in which Tilly and Cleo scream and Alice Walker writes a poem comparable to one of the D- Poems of Jeremy Bloom.
inheritors - in which I have recurring dreams about the end of the world, Hempfest happens as I go to the Harvard art museums, and learn that I’m better off saving images I want to my hard drive and uploading them instead of giving imgur the urls of things that should have a permanent home.
the golden afternoons - in which apparently the same spambots from 2008 are around signing up on various forums and putting “man” in their biographies, the Free Speech Brigade doesn’t actually believe in Free Speech, and we discuss leveling systems in rpgs and come to the conclusion that Xenoblade has the worst even when games that scale enemy levels to your own and Final Fantasy II exist.
taming the moon - in which a Local Music Festival is held.
delusions - in which Gray talks about art assignments and sharks, a tattooed woman brings in a young red squirrel, and I give my thoughts on Hyperion and Ilium.
dust and ashes - in which I learn about an rpg called deadEarth and want to start a gaming session where we just make characters and try to navigate all the junk sites, and meanwhile, Pam Uphoff releases the 46th book in a series because she thinks she’s exempt from Wharfinger’s Law because she was never good to begin with.
red land, black land - in which Instagram forces me to login to view people’s pages but don’t have to rely on Instagram for things, the MFA celebrates Indigenous People’s Day, and see art by women and art of ancient Nubia, meet Asia who is not actually named after the continent.
blue is the color of... - in which I visit the New England Aquarium for the first time since elementary school and touch a ray, meet Harp and Ava and ask if this is Final Space.
autumntime - in which Lebanon erupts in protests which is good because Lebanon is a shit country by design and the rest of the world is invested in keeping Lebanon a shit country, and Rebecca brings up Girl, Interrupted because Harry was eating rotisserie chicken.
the dark voice - in which 1200 pumpkins line the wildlife center’s nature trail and Olivia doesn’t notice any wood frogs.
blackness burning - in which I get candy from Colombia and Kim shows off tegus.
flesh rags - in which Bling bursts through a potted plant like the Kool Aid Man, Christabel gets a kitty, a Virginia rail is released, and Gamingforce has an actual conversation.
i’ll leave a light on - in which I try to listen to Kanye West and find it very lacking, Michael tries to compare it to various NPC Songs, Olivia is the last intern left for now and eats oats, and Brad Torgersen tries to argue that the left took over Star Trek of all things.
with the changing of the leaves - in which I attempt to play Sword Dream but really don’t want to play it in one sitting, the makers of Tempus Irae discuss alien architecture and design, the MFA shows off modern art with five themes.
to the place between the twilight and the dawn - in which the NEC performs opera scenes and Brian misreads it as scones.
memories of green - in which Blade Runner is now in the past and instead of replicants, we get a Kanye West opera about Nebuchadnezzar.
memories live longer than dreams - in which I don’t have to pay for my journey in to see Postcard From Morocco, where I meet Sophia and Marina and Gummy but do have to pay on the way out.
better morphosis - in which I meet an axolotl.
dark hours - in which Muffin is too deaf to fear and Snowy knows no fear, we play Apples to Apples, and I learn that rabies in Oregon Trail II is a thing.
the tangent universe - in which I dream about Ashley and I restarting our lives but in a different way, a woman loves when an artwork’s title is just a description, I try something called Coke Raspberry Magic and am not sure how it differs from regular raspberry coke, and encounter a woman who looks like Emma.
stark raven mad - in which I go on the Internet Archive’s few political threads from Gamingforce and confirm that diet racism has always been around, it was just in the form of neoconservatism rather than isolationism, Riley says that rotten bananas smell worse than guinea pig, and Harry bites Fizz.
ensurance trap - in which we eat pie and release a dovekie.
the world after autumn - in which the Hoydens and Hoyts become even more unhinged, which is quite impressive, and I see a raccoon go under anesthesia
empty beyond beyond beyond - in which Suzanne and Abby discuss travelling.
time and ebb - in which Emily taunts Muffin with a piece of chocolate in hopes that she won’t care about it anymore, Dorothy plays the Elegy of Emptiness and leaves her effigy behind, and we fill out quizzes about your daemon from His Dark Materials and Sam looks forward to family, friends, and impeachment.
pigmentary disturbances - in which the Strand Theatre’s interior and exterior temperatures are in balance, a building is covered in collages, I see hope in Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Ethiopia and despair in Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Iran, and China.
glimpses of hope in trying times - in which I come to the conclusion that real life is in fact as absurd as the Simpsons, it’s just absurd in different ways, and I watch a movie with Dean Cain that isn’t even in his top five worst movies.
in our time - in which I see art and hear pastoral music and requiems inappropriate for the current season and Molly remembers me from the last time I drew her.
ashen like the sky - in which Kiwi Farms supports Tulsi in order to sow chaos.
lost causes - in which I visit the Peabody Essex Museum before the class 3 killstorm arrives and am surprised by Nello’s continued existence in the year 2019.
where darkness spreads - in which the streets are covered in ice so I decline a visit to the MFA, meet a chameleon and true fire skink, and three ferrets.
no rest for the wicked - in which Julia eats a sandwich and Greg gets a new pupper.
before the dark - in which two owls are released and a goose succumbs to lead poisoning while Larry Correia and friends attempt a love bombing campaign to someone oblivious.
the hours pass - in which I compare Mozart and Shakespeare.
spiral-galaxy - in which I rant about the latest Freedom House report and learn about Julia’s cats.
into witchgrass and milkweed - in which winter has changed since I was in college, someone archives what.cd but now I can't find it, Sarah Hoyt says something profoundly sexist and stupid, and I see sculptures and paintings at the Edward M. Kennedy institute.
illusion of movement - in which the wildlife center obtains some echinoderms and I meet guinea pigs named Rick and Morty.
symmetry - in which I see the Botticelli exhibit at the Gardner museum but miss a Nepalese sarangi player and American guitarist.
Perhaps the Wildest Sound That Is Ever Heard Here Making the Woods Ring Far and Wide - in which I screw myself in the Half Truth Realmz scenario and Christabel tells us tales of raccoons.
remaining stretches - in which I ask people about bones, TJ plans to make prison wine no matter how disgusting it might taste, I somehow defeat the Dark Magus Sisters in FFX despite making a major blunder, and Tim Pool proposes a large-scale Democratic Underground jury system to replace human moderation, which would result in a massively inefficient system at best and at worst, allow the toxic elements in a community to drive out any opposition and take control.
heirs of an empire long passed away - in which I am too distracted by my bladder to chat with people, see an opera about Nero, and blame track work for time being out of joint.
bleak spaces - in which ordinary sour candy doesn’t impress Daniela and we look for snakes in the ceiling.
proteus - in which Myspace admits to baleeting their music, I hear songs of leaving Ireland and explanations of why the psychedelic movement faltered, and see a baby bat.
never, and again - in which an artist talks about becoming an artist and being a student, members of the Mad Genius Club advocate genocide and think the deep state faked an actual shooting, and I can’t find a godawful cover with Google’s help.
passing through, passing away - in which I hear a Mahler symphony in Plymouth, eat Thai food and learn that there is at least one TV station devoted to golf, and walk past a chapel called New Hope, where their sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped them conjure up the stolen data tapes or given them clairvoyance enough to find the Rebels’ hidden fortress.
elsewhere is a negative mirror - in which people eat food and check out animals, Veronica and Michael talk about how Google does evil things so we don’t have to make shit up.
chain of events - in which I beat Mithril Vault by exploiting Cloud of Cleavers and the dumb AI because they expect you to powerlevel from 16 after beating White Dragon to 29, and praise its premise, the wildlife center receives its first batches of baby raccoons of the year, and I remark that cuisine is getting less diverse even in places that are getting more diverse, but can’t blame Trump for it.
the acolyte's burden - in which Emily discusses zodiac compatibility, someone holds a lecture about the rise of fascism, and I see a double feature of opera with Gabriella.
the weight of vengeance - in which we have a lot of animals in boarding, Notre Dame catches fire and the fascists and radical centrists and religious conservatives unite in taking advantage of it and falling for their own conspiracy theories, and I desire to live in a cyberpunk dystopia where I can get bionic limbs or maybe a set of gills from a black market surgeon.
walking in a mist - in which I get angry at Chick-Fil-A for strong-arming Boloco instead of taking over an empty location that pretends that it still has Noon’s Mediterranean in it and meet people with ethnic names.
prelude to the tragedy - in which I see an opera about the romance between Helen and Paris and have Venezuelan food but first have to deal with a medical emergency in which I’d have gotten to my destination earlier had I just waited at JFK/UMass, but at least meet Steven, who has blue hair, and Ashley, who has pink hair and is red-hot in quantum mechanics, submolecular biology, and TV theme songs.
destroyer of illusions - in which Amazon sells a book few people have heard of for a very large number of dollars and I decline to buy it, not only because I don’t have the money but because I suspect a scam, find a taxonomy of political identities, the right gets up in arms about Mortal Kombat yet again, and we get an osprey and a swan.
rains lit by neon - in which Mahler’s 5th symphony is paired with Charles Ives’ Third Symphony instead of a concerto or the Emperor Waltz.
status quo ante - in which there are flowers at the MFA and I make the mistake of going there on Members Night, in which time is scarce and everyone there wants to see the flowers.
what the winds & days may bring- in which foxes and bunnies show up, a squirrel gets released, I wonder why nobody’s ever made jazz with medieval or renaissance instruments, Tritoch has a conversation with a spambot, Styphon cleans up, and Hydelloon and Denicalis holds his one hundred millionth unattended stream.
mad shadows - in which we are in fact living in a cyberpunk future and I make an addendum about how surveillance in America is done by corporations like Facebook and social control is done by people on sites like Kiwi Farms.
echoes from time's garden - in which I am happy about the Mayfair getting delayed.
a fleeting glimpse - in which an osprey shows up, Denmark elects a true populist government and the weather forecast for the Mayfair settles on something.
events in a high wind - in which it rains on the first two sets at the Mayfair but at least Arc Iris gets to play, which is the sole reason I am there, and the chalk art is all ruined and naught but ghosts remain.
fatalities - in which I propose that Kano play a game of knifey-spooney with his victims before ripping out their hearts and fail to remember more than five people’s names.
hello, stranger - in which I meet someone who recognized me but I do not think to ask where she went to college.
exiles - in which Mary shows up at the Cambridge River Arts Festival which this year is not at a river to do a Mermaid Promenade and I buy Armistice for only a dollarydoo and a quarter.
remembering days of yore - in which I fail to remember anyone’s name, some raccoons are moved outside, and I lament the existence of a movie called Psycho Wedding Crasher that does not have any killing in it and say that one day I’ll post my thoughts on every song played regularly on WAAF when I still listened, no matter how many Creed and Limp Bizkit songs I’d have to listen to, but not now, when I have wistful piano pop and wistful guitar pop and 20th century choral music to listen to instead.
with every brilliant hue - in which a pride parade is held and a dance event is held and someone buys Amnesty from Harvard Books before I get the chance to.
while my heart is still bleeding - in which Karen dissects a pregnant guinea pig.
we love our rotting industrial dystopia - in which the MBTA suffers a cascade failure and Lyft takes advantage in the only way they know how, that is to say, by gouging, my meal is unexpected but still delicious, and I conclude that climate change has happened in a way completely unlike Gold Fame Citrus and am unable to suspend my disbelief unlike with Nier because it never rains in Nier but there’s also no sun, and Google tries to convince me I am going crazy but it backfires.
bound in darkness - in which Amazon is so preoccupied with whether they can sell expired Trader Joe’s products that they never stopped to consider if they should, Karen cuts up another pregnant guinea pig, Sara celebrates her birthday by seeing a basking shark and some whales, and we release animals and learn about fatherhood.
a taste of the divine - in which I eat an empanada, a shrimp taco, and a bowl of raspberry lime sorbet, meet a woman who is making art from old books, it rains for ten minutes and the sound crew nopes on out of there, fucking up the entire schedule at Make Music, and discuss cats and McDonalge with Isabelle.
the reinvention of war - in which I conclude that Trump’s base is indifferent towards war as long as refugees are barred, praise Jurassic Park’s special effects, and show people around the wildlife center.
last exit to fairyland - in which I find the MIT museum transformed, I get the wrong but still delicious type of wrap at Aleppo Palace, and meet two actors on the train ride home.
forest hymn - in which the TERFs are planning to stay at home or vote third party in the next presidential election because they want to punish others but can’t bring themselves to actually vote Trump.
summer rain - in which I occasionally deviate from “jazz, boston music, and new albums by already-known bands” in my listening habits.
moments in golden light - in which Stewart sings about how you shouldn’t deforest the moon, if only there were forests there in the first place.
be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain - in which Emma recommends Tatte, because if there’s one thing Israelis are really good at, it’s food.
body horror - in which I feel like I am surrounded by the shadow of a lich and see paintings of rotting corpses and then go get a curry chicken roti because I’m desensitized to gore, Ross Perot dies and I’m bewildered that anyone who calls themselves left, even Democratic Underground, which trends white and old and well-off, is mourning him.
future's bright - in which I meet plenty of dogs and meet a woman with reptilian and arthropod tattoos and learn that I really don’t need as much chili oil as I put in, a train collides with a shard of time and I meet a woman with a dog and a woman with a carved wooden board.
death comes home - in which Abby gives her price for eating raccoon cuisine, does the Safety Dance but not Magic Dance.
a corruption of moonlight - in which the rains fall and we’re moved indoors and people don’t shut the fuck up during the intro music and Leroy Anderson’s summer skies seems as appropriate as Frank Sinatra’s Summer Wind in Blade Runner 2049, I hear people speaking in Japanese and watching videos subtitled in Turkish.
a change in the weather - in which a wet summer is more aptly described as a summer with no more than the usual number of wet days but a lot more wetness on those days.
after the flood - in which it rains quite intensely and I find Ammonite by Nicola Griffith and the Tall Chair Brigade discovers the phalanx formation.
the green country - in which a performance of Cymbeline happens and I meet tattooed people.
feast of lights - in which I run into old friends at Figment, both regulars and passersby.
terra incognita - in which I journey to lands unknown to hear a BLO concert and buy Thai food and The Lathe of Heaven in those lands and discuss art with Rachel, who is definitely pansexual and therefore prefers warm colors, and most likely Jewish.
flies and spiders - in which Emma lets a spider live because she’s just hanging out near Valley and I learn that there is a D&D campaign setting in an environmentally degraded fairyland.
the burden of other people's thoughts - in which it rains despite low chances and so I don’t see Gabriella but do get to see the Archer season finale, and I meet people with tattoos
from the painter's hand - in which I suspect that right-wing killers are targeting people to shift demographics in their favor and meet people with tattoos.
we burn our eyes to see the light - in which Caitlin makes a mess, Emma eats cookie dough, and I listen to music in preparation for rain-related disappointment.
a million sparks - in which a haiku contest is held, it rains despite the chance dropping to 20%, they are miraculously able to secure a rain location, and I meet a woman who studies flute.
voices in the dark - in which I compare The Lathe of Heaven with a Goosebumps book with a similar premise but a much much worse execution, learn that the Simpsons actually do see Carmen in Russian because it was the only recording they could get the rights to, and speculate that Tool’s next album will have a red version of Fear Inoculum’s cover.
a mirror seen in mist and pearl - in which the Landmarks Orchestra puts on an Antarctica-themed symphony in summer to show up the BSO holding pastoral symphonies in the winter but we get some horribly unpleasant moist and cool weather anyway.
in the air - in which Gentle Temper and Brigit Smith play outside Faneuil Hall and I take advantage of Piperi being open, and Greenfest relocates to somewhere more green, and I meet someone who was born on July 6 and was excited to ride the Orange Line for the first time in ever.
in the wind - in which I miscalculate how long it takes me to get from Braintree to Aquarium, discover the many uses of ginger beer, and demand that Bashar al-Assad pay for the Red-Blue connector but make good connections anyway.
upon us - in which I meet dogs and musicians.
as lethargic as time - in which 4chan falls for their own manufactured outrage and Joshua Mooooooon spends thousands of dollars keeping his asshole website for jerks up and I read The Butterfly Revolution.
ghost songs - in which I determine that the weather is a way to balance out the serendipity I’ve been having because Ashley isn’t around to be a counterweight anymore, and the Monastery of Madness gets its hands into the US government.
less is a bore - in which artists reject minimalism, David Koch dies, and my food leaks and I have to put lavender and yarrow in my bag.
misplaced in time - in which I meet an artist and a few actors, see art about time and a performance of Measure For Measure.
the library of dreams - in which I discover the Internet Archive’s motherlode of out of print books.
beyond the wasteland - in which I describe how to get Fallout 2 running on Virtual Box and speculate on Windows’ success and see various sailor’s valentines and paintings.
conceptions of celestial space - in which I run into Allisandra and meet her friends, meet a woman with Greek tattooing and a woman with tattoos of the planets and a woman who was at the Fuzztival, hear excerpts from the BLO’s latest season, and meet a woman from Bulgaria and a woman reading the Outsiders prepared to be sad because I thought she’d be born after I last read that book.
sere - in which Nicole is overwhelmed with admissions and I play through Fallout.
live for the future, long for the past - in which it rains far too much for September and delays a concert but it still wasn’t as bad as the Mayfair even if they did have the biggest beer garden I’ve ever seen.
lizard people from deep time - in which Tilly and Cleo scream and Alice Walker writes a poem comparable to one of the D- Poems of Jeremy Bloom.
inheritors - in which I have recurring dreams about the end of the world, Hempfest happens as I go to the Harvard art museums, and learn that I’m better off saving images I want to my hard drive and uploading them instead of giving imgur the urls of things that should have a permanent home.
the golden afternoons - in which apparently the same spambots from 2008 are around signing up on various forums and putting “man” in their biographies, the Free Speech Brigade doesn’t actually believe in Free Speech, and we discuss leveling systems in rpgs and come to the conclusion that Xenoblade has the worst even when games that scale enemy levels to your own and Final Fantasy II exist.
taming the moon - in which a Local Music Festival is held.
delusions - in which Gray talks about art assignments and sharks, a tattooed woman brings in a young red squirrel, and I give my thoughts on Hyperion and Ilium.
dust and ashes - in which I learn about an rpg called deadEarth and want to start a gaming session where we just make characters and try to navigate all the junk sites, and meanwhile, Pam Uphoff releases the 46th book in a series because she thinks she’s exempt from Wharfinger’s Law because she was never good to begin with.
red land, black land - in which Instagram forces me to login to view people’s pages but don’t have to rely on Instagram for things, the MFA celebrates Indigenous People’s Day, and see art by women and art of ancient Nubia, meet Asia who is not actually named after the continent.
blue is the color of... - in which I visit the New England Aquarium for the first time since elementary school and touch a ray, meet Harp and Ava and ask if this is Final Space.
autumntime - in which Lebanon erupts in protests which is good because Lebanon is a shit country by design and the rest of the world is invested in keeping Lebanon a shit country, and Rebecca brings up Girl, Interrupted because Harry was eating rotisserie chicken.
the dark voice - in which 1200 pumpkins line the wildlife center’s nature trail and Olivia doesn’t notice any wood frogs.
blackness burning - in which I get candy from Colombia and Kim shows off tegus.
flesh rags - in which Bling bursts through a potted plant like the Kool Aid Man, Christabel gets a kitty, a Virginia rail is released, and Gamingforce has an actual conversation.
i’ll leave a light on - in which I try to listen to Kanye West and find it very lacking, Michael tries to compare it to various NPC Songs, Olivia is the last intern left for now and eats oats, and Brad Torgersen tries to argue that the left took over Star Trek of all things.
with the changing of the leaves - in which I attempt to play Sword Dream but really don’t want to play it in one sitting, the makers of Tempus Irae discuss alien architecture and design, the MFA shows off modern art with five themes.
to the place between the twilight and the dawn - in which the NEC performs opera scenes and Brian misreads it as scones.
memories of green - in which Blade Runner is now in the past and instead of replicants, we get a Kanye West opera about Nebuchadnezzar.
memories live longer than dreams - in which I don’t have to pay for my journey in to see Postcard From Morocco, where I meet Sophia and Marina and Gummy but do have to pay on the way out.
better morphosis - in which I meet an axolotl.
dark hours - in which Muffin is too deaf to fear and Snowy knows no fear, we play Apples to Apples, and I learn that rabies in Oregon Trail II is a thing.
the tangent universe - in which I dream about Ashley and I restarting our lives but in a different way, a woman loves when an artwork’s title is just a description, I try something called Coke Raspberry Magic and am not sure how it differs from regular raspberry coke, and encounter a woman who looks like Emma.
stark raven mad - in which I go on the Internet Archive’s few political threads from Gamingforce and confirm that diet racism has always been around, it was just in the form of neoconservatism rather than isolationism, Riley says that rotten bananas smell worse than guinea pig, and Harry bites Fizz.
ensurance trap - in which we eat pie and release a dovekie.
the world after autumn - in which the Hoydens and Hoyts become even more unhinged, which is quite impressive, and I see a raccoon go under anesthesia
empty beyond beyond beyond - in which Suzanne and Abby discuss travelling.
time and ebb - in which Emily taunts Muffin with a piece of chocolate in hopes that she won’t care about it anymore, Dorothy plays the Elegy of Emptiness and leaves her effigy behind, and we fill out quizzes about your daemon from His Dark Materials and Sam looks forward to family, friends, and impeachment.
pigmentary disturbances - in which the Strand Theatre’s interior and exterior temperatures are in balance, a building is covered in collages, I see hope in Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Ethiopia and despair in Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Iran, and China.
