O verão bateu em minha porta

 ...e eu abri! July, sweetie darlings!! Birthday month, summer holiday month, letting my hair down month, and woah if the family ginger isn't getting more prominent as I age. (My great-uncle O was bald. Or so I thought. Turned out he'd a full head of hair, coarse and curly and roaring red. Clown was one of the milder monikers he had to endure. And so he shaved it all off for the rest of his days. I intend to keep mine, for his sake and for all the gingers out there. Let that red roar!)

But seriously, stay safe and hydrated, and don't forget to wear sunscreen, and keep to the shade at peak UV, and read a good book, or a really bad one you can unrecommend and use as a conversation starter starting a whole discussion about books and tastes and genres with a friend or a friendly stranger, and get some exercise in when it's not too hot, and cook a good meal and eat it with gusto, go see a movie or a play or visit a museum or several, celebrate art and artists and the miracle of being alive to witness and experience and cherish the beauty of the world around you.

Feliz São João!*🔥

Temperature: a cooler 20/68 degrees after a sultry solstice, but the heat is about to return. Nothing like what southern Europe is experiencing but still.

Eating: all manner of fresh summer produce.

Drinking: mineral water.

Listening: to Brazilian tunes in honor of Festa Junina, a colorful, flavorful month of celebrations centered around farming, the harvest season, the countryside, and rural life in general.

Watching: the World Cup here and there and with less enthusiasm every Copa. Money ruins everything; it really does.

Reading: Moominsummer Madness. “The sun had set, but now in June there was of course no darkness at night to speak of. The night was pale and dreamy and full of magic.”
 
Writing: anything new you'd like to share with your devotees?

Thinking: That studentfest was really something. And that other thing, awww! The world is not ready for your daughters. *cheeky grin*

Feeling: grateful we got to be a part of it all.

*Happy St. John's! 

June in bloom

Temperature: a partly cloudy 20/68 degrees.

Eating: leftovers from yesterday's BBQ.

Drinking: on a Monday? No. 

Listening: to the sounds of summer. How I've missed you!

Watching: the garden come to life. How I've missed this!

Reading: or rereading Who Goes Nazi? by Dorothy Thompson.
 
Writing: I've got notes scribbled here and there and on whatever was at hand I need to go through to see what belongs where. Sounds messy? Not at all. There is a place for everything and everything will find its place. 

Thinking: sweet baby Jesus, this is not even beyond the realms of possibility. I'm sure they could think of something and simply fabricate the rest.

Feeling: Chekhovian, and I only have to think of my boys and everything I stand to lose to swing that way, the world being what it is, with things steadily sliding in the wrong direction, all things considered. Here we are, serving a joint life sentence on this common planet of ours, some surfing with a drink in one hand and zero fucks given in the other, others drowning in the rising tide or a mudslide, and I know Chekhov didn't coin the phrase it's not over till it's over, but even while grappling with eternal questions of the human condition and the sorrows and horrors that abound, his characters are loath to give up. Yes, it's a god-awful mess, but are we just gonna gawk at it or are we going to do what we can, like thinking, feeling, proactive people should. Lantern or candle or phone in hand, if that's all you have, which in darkness is plenty.

I said what I said

For the record: I left currently-known-as-X Twitter years ago and haven't posted since at https://x.com/ditaparker. I haven't been completely inactive or I guess the account would have been deleted years ago; there are people I root for and whose careers I follow I want to support by checking in on them regularly (more or less weekly). The last time I tried doing exactly that, this is what I got: "Sorry, you are not allowed to log in at this time." Oh. Okay. I checked what the account looks like on the web and this is what I got: "@DitaParker hasn’t posted. When they do, their posts will show up here." Huh? (Dita Parker had posted. Many many many times.) The account has been wiped clean. Well, not by me.

What the hell is going on, I'm sure I don't know. I'm not going to try to revive it. Not going to open new accounts there or anywhere else either; I'll make do. If it becomes active all of a sudden, it's not me. If I ever became active on Twitter again (sorry, it will forever be Twitter to me), I would let you know right here at the Den. (Unless this dies, too, which would mean there's some serious fuckery afoot.)

I have no plans to shut down the Den. If I do, I will let you know. If this blog disappears, something happened to it. If I go silent all of a sudden, something happened to me. And I don't mean some fuckery afoot scenario, let's keep things real, shall we; I mean life. Always unpredictable, never a dull moment. (Seriously, I'm never bored. How could you ever be bored on this planet?)

Be well, sweetie darlings, and shine on. Shine on.

If you had balls I'd kick 'em

Temperature: a sunny 16/61 degrees. It's been a dry spring. 

Eating: chocolate left over from Easter. It's been a long spring.

Drinking: Madeira wine. It's been that kind of spring.

Listening: to this year's Eurovision contenders yet? Yeah, I know. Many feel a cloud hangs over the contest, that it's not quite as joyous an occasion as it used to be. Silver linings: look at Linda Lampenius shine! Lampenius tried to warn other women about the predator Peter Nygård, and he went after her, viciously. I hope she feels vindicated and liberated and ready to own that stage like the professional, talented, experienced artist she is. And if Finland can't win, can Denmark? Kys mig, tag mit hjerte, knus det igen /Men please sig den her aften aldrig vil ende... And if you still haven't watched Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga and need a good laugh, maybe give it a try over the weekend?

Watching: hollow men run the world. Into the ground. Men hollow in their masculinity, men devoid of integrity, of morals, of values, of virtues, of principles.

Reading: The Nuremberg Women: The Untold Story of the Eight Women Who Brought the Nazis to Justice by Natalie Livingstone ASAP.
 
Writing: to remain sane.

Thinking: Imagine there were millions upon millions of files worth of evidence, with video and audio attached, regarding the sex trafficking, sexual abuse, torture and murder of minors, and the AG and the DOJ went, Yeah, we're not gonna be looking into that.

Feeling: Do you have time to talk about the miracle and misery of perimenopause? Some other time then.

Will you accept this🌹

...in exchange for a book? Yours, or a recommendation? To celebrate Saint George's/World Book Day, which is tomorrow, and in honor of Earth Day, which is today?

Els dracs no em fan por si estic amb tu. Feliç Sant Jordi! 

And proactive Earth Day, dearest denizens. 🌸

It was a brimstone

“As everyone knows, if the first butterfly you see is yellow the summer will be a happy one. If it is white then you will just have a quiet summer. Black and brown butterflies should never be talked about – they are much too sad.”

Finn Family Moomintroll (1948)

Born to enjoy life

 ...forced to fight the patriarchy.

Tenacious International Women's Day.

Dance the pain away*

Temperature: a snowy -5/23 degrees. It was a cold January and it's been a cold February with snow for once.

Eating: Maybe later.

Drinking: Maybe a caipirinha over the weekend in celebration of the carnival season?

Listening: Like I said, it's almost carnaval, so what do you think? Time to dance the pain away, the physical, the emotional, the existential.

Watching: Wuthering Heights ASAP.

Reading: @FrenchResponse yet? Not without risks, this tactic. Then again, you have to fight your corner. Chapeau !
 
Writing: Now that this is all just training data for AI, are you thinking Inception yet? Shouldn't we TED it at every turn, only write ideas worth spreading? Keeping it classy and truthful, maybe even artful? We are, after all, the originals, and AI is the glorified copy-paste machine, and there is no shortage of shit slinging enshittifying the mix so it desperately needs a counterbalance.

Thinking: The more one reads on the Epstein case the more it looks like a if-you-go-down-I-go-down mutually assured destruction construction of blackmail, extortion, info and intel gathering, manipulation, money laundering, sex slavery and human trafficking, and who knows what else, and it makes the FBI look like the Federal Bureau of Interception, and prosecutors either corrupt, really bad at their jobs, or both, and it raises more questions than it answers, starting with if no one managed to help these teens and children and stop these crimes and these criminals after all that came to light ages ago then what the hell were they doing sitting on their hands, at whose behest, and why. And if you're thinking that the things coming out prove they can't be true because they are just too crazy, too sick and depraved to be true, people tasked with investigating these crimes will tell you that there is no limit to the sick and sadistic things some will do to adults, teens and children as young as newborns. (These investigators need therapy because of the nature of their work, and their therapists need therapy in turn, and not all therapists will work with these investigators because they do not want to carry detailed accounts of violence done to children, violence that sometimes leads to death.) And if it's true, where are the whistleblowers? Well, we have the original whistleblowers, the victims, who have either not been listened to or believed in the first place, or who have been silenced after speaking up, or who were turned into accomplices before coming forth (and what a diabolic move of coercive control that is, turning your victim into your partner in crime) and the few prosecutors who tried to act were told to sit down and shut up because we got this (and what did Epstein get for his crimes? a sweetheart deal), and we have investigative journalists trying to break into a fortress protecting those who deserve no protection or leniency, and this work can sometimes radically affect your life expectancy if you don't stop what you're doing or take back what you said. The last whistleblower hides inside this circle of predators, someone who has witnessed these crimes, maybe even taken part, someone whose conscience isn't one hundred percent dead. Will they speak up in an attempt to save themselves when all evidence supports the assumption no one will protect you, no one will save you if you do? Because even after he became a registered sex offender Epstein just picked up where he left off, and people still cozied up to him, sought him out, and the chumminess is beyond creepy and disgusting, and doesn't it just say it all that these monsters would rather protect one another than the victims of their crimes.

Feeling: Every choice we make is at its heart a moral choice. Every choice either strengthens or weakens our core and ultimately defines who we are as humans. Imagine losing touch with that core. Imagine being so dead inside that even the most defenseless, the most vulnerable, become objects, things, disposable. That is the definition of evil and that evil is real.


*A most carnivalesque video to accompany a most danceable tune with the most delicious 80s synths and drum machines by Haute & Freddy.

Mergers and acquisitions

Since plain English isn't getting through, with all undue respect, please do bugger all the way off.

Brought to you by Europeans Who Just Want to Live Their Lives Without Being Blackmailed, Threatened or Harassed by Dictators, Oligarchs, or Technocrats.

Determined Martin Luther King Jr. Day, dearest denizens!

Champagne kisses

 ...and New Year wishes, sweetie darlings!

The Vienna Philharmonic is playing, the sun is out, there is snow on the way, it's a beautiful day.