Tell me something good

Something. Anything.

I just learned my oldest cousin has died. Not old old. In his fifties.

Cancer. Fucking cancer.

Little wonders

If I've featured these tilt-shift, time-lapse plums by Berlin-based filmmaker Joerg Daibe in the past, it's time for an encore in the present because there are new episodes to marvel at!

This is our world, sweetie darlings, yours and mine, to enjoy and explore, to cherish and protect.

Happy Earth Day, wherever you are. 🌍🌏🌎

🪺

Temperature: a cloudy 12.5/54.5 degrees. We had some really warm days in March, like 19/66 degrees warm, which is the abnormal new normal for spring. (We also had the earliest forest fire alerts ever.)

Eating: rice and tuna salad.

Drinking: Yikes, it's time to get this year's Valborg mead going!

Listening: to the Eurovision 2025 hopefuls yet? You have one month to pick a favorite. Finland is tickled to have doubled their chances with force of nature Erika Vikman, and KAJ, Sweden's finlandssvensk sweethearts. And kudos to Sweden for finally daring to vote for something a bit silly and a lot of fun; they'll be the first to admit they have taken Eurovision and themselves far too seriously in the past.   

Watching: spring progress.

Reading: A Sociedade dos Sonhadores Involuntários by José Eduardo Agualusa. (Available in English.)

Writing: friends and family all week asking about their Easter/Passover/weekend plans. What are you doing, sweetie darlings?

Thinking: some rather unprintable thoughts. Let's talk about it some other time, when I'm not this...incensed.

Feeling: much better, health-wise. This year's flu shot didn't quite hit the mark; still, this bout was so much milder than the last one in...2014?

There's the sweetest spring at my door

And I'm down for the count, bedridden with the flu.

Be well, sweetie darlings, wherever you are. 🤒

Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes

Temperature: a sunny 5/41 degrees. Where is that Föhn wind we were promised?

Eating: What would go well with some Irish stout? I know, it makes food redundant, but still.

Drinking: see above. Happy St. Paddy's!

Listening: to Trump's regime align with Putin's Russia makes you wonder what the Kremlin has on him. Is it about money and/or other favors owed? Something thoroughly, utterly humiliating? We all know The Donald, like his fellow autocrats, will not be laughed at. Imagine if the fate of Ukraine lies in the hands of a man whose greatest fear is not the destruction of American democracy or the dismantling of decades-old alliances but public, no-coming-back-from-that humiliation. Or is it just a case of sociopath recognizing sociopath? Expansive, extractive, exploitative cronyism?

Watching: In between shows, actually, because of the carnaval break. Any suggestions? (White Lotus is already on my list, and screw you, Max, for the glacial speed.)

Reading: something that'll put me out of work.

Writing: something equaling an attempt to hold onto said work. Decades of studying, honing craft, working, experience, and unique skills turning meaningless and worthless at breakneck speed. Time to go all-out Moomin, then, just plant potatoes and dream? People will always need potatoes, and creatives their vivid minds. Glad and sad I'm not alone, but we do support one another; maybe we'll even start something new together. We've talked about pivoting, all those parallel and possible careers. There's something there, don't you think? This is our cue, I think.

Thinking: please don't let Trump meet with/talk to Putin, or Rubio with/to Lavrov, without adult supervision. No, really.

Feeling: Trump is doing Putin's work for him, at home and abroad, and I don't know which is worse: that he does not understand who he's dealing with and what will follow, or that he's too greedy and corrupt to care.