Rev. Alcyone Daze

You’ve almost nailed it, but a few small changes should really make this reply shine! I see you’re discussing a controversy involving a trans woman—you might want to replace the aggressive misgendering you’ve used with softer, defensible options like “they” “this person” or “OP”.

Sorry, but I wave to her every day during pick-up and drop-off, and you are out of your mind if you believe these “malnutrition” rumors. I mean, yes—her kids are a little skinny, and they’re always hungry at lunch, but I’ve never seen a more loving parent than Cloth Mother.

When it rains it fuckin’ pours

I finished the book. The ebook has gone to the digital publishing hub. I have ordered a proof of the physical book. I will be sending you links on where to get it soon.

It ended up being long. The minimum price I was allowed to set for the physical book was over $30 because it's 500 pages

See also: no technology should go on the market without passing inspection by the sort of person who immediately thinks "how could an evil stalker ex use this having been given full access before they became an ex?"

7 of swords: me, drunk af, stealing a shitload of swords 9 of swords: me, waking up in the morning with a shitload of swords

Me sowing: Haha fuck yeah!!! yes!! Me reaping: Well this fucking sucks. What the fuck.

Shocked Pikachu face

Me: Let me complete a bunch of death doula training so I have both the caring, bureaucratic, and technical skills and the academic knowledge to be a solid point person for friends and family during their last days!

[someone I love is admitted to hospice]

Me:

My parents hoped that by 36 I would have settled down and raised a family, and yet…

Look, I’m working on it.

every morning now, over coffee
I whisper the same prayer: my goddess,
please, let me love while hurting

Photo of a cuneiform tablet fragment shaped a bit like an irregular diamond. It preserves nearly 20 incomplete lines of text separated by a horizontal ruling

There's a broken cuneiform tablet from the Old Babylonian period, nearly 4,000 years ago, which preserves a tiny portion of a dialogue between two friends.

It feels a bit like the conversations I've been having for the past week, so I wanted to share it.

There was a German in valet parking. A Belgian and a Swiss at odds over vol-au-vents in the kitchen. A small contingent of African spies (Senegal, Cote d'Ivoire, Gabon) on the janitorial staff, relatively careless about Francophone eavesdroppers. She spotted a very young and nervous Turkmen agent shoving a dead-drop spike into the eye of a gaudy reindeer statue at Christmastime, and duly stole it, learning his real name (Kasymguly) and workname (Kevin) in the process. The waitstaff had a Russian agent named Vladimir and a Ukrainian agent named Volodymyr and they'd nearly killed each other in the west parking lot one night. The Polish agent Wtodzimierz, who was considerably older and world-weary, smoked a cigarette, watched them brawl, and predicted they'd both be fired for coming to work with visible bruises. He was right, which was a pity; Volodymyr had been very handsome indeed. They were replaced, in due time, by Dmitri and Dmytro, at which point she began to wonder if Kyiv and Moscow were being deliberate about all this for their own inscrutable reasons.

sorry to poast too much about this but its my first published fiction since high school and i had fun imagining the many many spies at mar a lago
buttondown.com/theswordandt...

SHUT YOUR DOOMER ASS UP & REGARD LIFE AS PRECIOUS ENOUGH TO DEFEND, SUNSHINE!!!!!

Thinking about how the reason we know when quicksand stopped being as much of a staple of adventure movies is due to—what else?—a dedicated community of quicksand fetishists who documented as many instances in media as possible back around the USENET era.

MaKenzie I hope wherever you are that you’re thriving; I have nothing against you personally.

It’s taken a couple of years but I realized the thing that’s been twigging my uncanny valley thing about JD Vance (of the many, many things) is that he always looks over-airbrushed in the same way that the “doll” glamour shots of Toddlers and Tiaras contestants did a decade ago.

High praise from someone with Weinermobile Lore

0.0050

I had a streak of 0.0020 and then whiffed two in a row

Okay I need extremely niche Actual Legal Advice because I’m finding generally-helpful answers but none of them cover the edge case of “so, uh, what if the headstone in question was stolen by said loved one decades ago, in a way that felt morally justified at the time?”

“Have you ever had to tenderly take up the mortal remains of a loved one, wait until no one is looking, and then slam them against a picnic table like a slap bracelet half a dozen times?

Ask if a career in ceremonial magic is right for you!”

“Just plunge it into the soft, yielding grandma ashes,” spake my aunt, “she’d have wanted it that way.”

It didn’t fit through the neck of the urn.

My aunt accidentally left the remainder of my grandpa’s cremains in her glove compartment for a decade. When my grandma passed, my family tasked me with commingling their ashes, but grandpa’s ✨cremainder✨ had solidified into an UNFORTUNATE AND WORRYINGLY GIRTHY dildo-shaped mass.

On my last day of Pastoral Counseling for Death and Dying the prof told us to bring snacks and drinks to share and opened the floor up for stories of the most out-of-pocket behavior we’d ever seen at memorials but had to keep our Professional Faces on.

[At the behest of said loved one, I’m currently looking up whether it’s legal to bury someone under a headstone belonging to an entirely different person who died centuries earlier]

Grief is difficult, yes, but—more often than I think we feel comfortable discussing—it can also be extremely funny.

Please don’t attempt to clean or restore historic gravestones without proper training. And no “I looked it up on the internet” is not proper training. When I was at the College of Charleston, historic preservation majors didn’t even touch headstones until junior year because they’re so fragile.

Ah, yes, the rare swoonworthy butch skill of digging a grave by hand.

7 of swords: me, drunk af, stealing a shitload of swords 9 of swords: me, waking up in the morning with a shitload of swords

Me sowing: Haha fuck yeah!!! yes!! Me reaping: Well this fucking sucks. What the fuck.

Shocked Pikachu face

Me: Let me complete a bunch of death doula training so I have both the caring, bureaucratic, and technical skills and the academic knowledge to be a solid point person for friends and family during their last days!

[someone I love is admitted to hospice]

Me:

Polite reminder to antifascist researchers not to start a left wing of the current Satanic panic. It might not seem like a big deal to you, but I'm just trying to protect and support 100 plus lgbt baby Satanists spread out across the nation, mostly poor and in very hostile states.

I still wanna have an ass pics and aspics party.

The last 24 hours have royally sucked for a half-dozen reasons, but Phoebe stayed snuggled against me while I was miserably sick and trying to sleep on the bathroom floor last night. Hugs to Nux; we all see each other through.