Account inactive @literorrery@awoo.space

16h00 and I'm suddenly exhausted.

Since we have a bunch of new users around, welcome!
buni, Kristy, or Ms. Orrery (other names as necessary/revealed)
Meta-Narrativist
Snowshoe Hare
Pornographer
Alchemist
Stoner
Anarchosocialist
Autist
Poly
Pan
Trans
Queer
Writer
SubGenius
Occupied Cascadia
She/Her
Software Development

#introductions

I don't want to be working today. I want to be at home working on More Precious or First Taste, or any one of a number of writing projects. Neal and Diamond need their trip through the streets of the city, and I left my Pornograph designs half-done before I started. =x.x=

I want to build worlds, not software. Really, I want building worlds to pay as well as building software does. Or for "pay" to not be the determinant for why people do what they do.

I hate being sick.

I hope this is just allergies. I've been sneezing off and on pretty severely for the last three weeks or so, and I never put it in relation to anything else, just... hey I'm sneezing again. Last night we slept with the window open and this morning I woke up feeling like I'd been pummeled with a rock. Eyes hurt, yellow sticky snot, severe sneeze, all-over body ache. Our air filter read VERY BAD. I think it's pollen season.

Give me my gears.

I am amused at the way WLW parallels MSM, but also sad at the fracture in that alignment. Also, at the same time, I'm amused that "gay" and "lesbian" are sufficiently strong culture-markers now that people can engage in the primary behavior that denote membership in that identity while rejecting the label, prompting the creation of a new label which is essentially "the old label minus the cultural elements." People are weird, language is weird, and I'm weird.

I don't even know where to begin expressing the frustrations of trying to communicate this outside this space, because it feels like saying it here is a risk, but if I don't say it, it will continue to eat at me. The culture I came from, my organic origin-body culture, was toxic and soul-crushing. We built something better, something healthier, something powerful in its own right on its ashes. And I wish I had better tools to share it. Ω

Not to say that everyone here _is_ spiritual, but that elements of spirituality permeate it. There are atheists, agnostics, Christians, Wiccans, Buddhists, and others beyond all here. But those elements are a living part of our shared community, not things we isolate and keep separate and hide, because we're all here to walk our own paths together.

My culture is inherently spiritual. I have a weekly ritual. One of my dearest friends hosts quarterly multitraditional gatherings. I have an annual mythopoeic retelling of the First Terrible Winter accompanied by a festival. We've invented our own religions and found ways to incorporate those elements into our daily lives without harming each other. Mostly. And I feel terrible when I fuck that up, because encouraging people to Tell the Tale of You is one of my deepest vocations.

My culture is inherently poly. I have a wife and two pets. One of my housemates is in a polycule that crosses multiple state lines and can't be graphed on a two-dimensional surface without overlap. The worst I've ever gotten or given when negotiating sex outside the relationship was "be home by this time" and "I'm not interested but I want you to have fun." We had to INVENT WORDS to describe the relationships forms we were creating just so we could talk about them.

My culture is inherently queer. My culture doesn't think twice about people deciding on a day-to-day basis that they're a new gender, a new species, a new material. Identity changes are signs of discovery and understanding, and they're things to be celebrated. Any plot that can be solved by people having a ten-minute talk is not a real plot in my world.

One thing that reading all the activist timelines I have on birbsite and elsewhere has really driven home for me is the sense that I'm better off writing second-world fantasy, because if I tried to write "my native culture," I'd be accused of creating unrealistic characters.

16h20. TIme to lament not being at home.

Shai pointed to the raised pedestal by the door. "That's her safeword, so to speak. She knows if she sits there and starts barking, as soon as we hear her, we'll take her back." They smiled, sharp white teeth immaculately polished. "So, leave that space clear, please."

I found the thread I needed to pull. @KoBunny pointed me at it, and @Fuego reminded me of something I needed to add. I know three of my candy-bar scenes. Fuck.

So... we're doing this.