Oh darn, it’s raining again. And—gasp—the weather app says it’s going to rain all day!
No choice but to brew a pot of coffee, pile some dried figs into a bowl, and stay in bed reading books all day. 🙄
At some nondeterministic point, I will translate the coffee pot into a wine bottle.
Today’s read is @mjohnharrison ‘s Nova Swing.
Its predecessor, Light, gently gutted me a few years ago. I had come to identify with aspects of the furious intelligence, Seria Mau, once human, now a space ship, who is cut free from her physical form in the final pages.
“In the micro-cameras she saw herself for the first time in fifteen years. She was this small, broken, yellowish thing, its limbs all at odd angles, curling and uncurling itself feebly against the pain of the open air.”
At that exact moment in my life, this was a #trans allegory, and the resolution had me sobbing quietly in the dark.
🥺 Okay, _fine_.
🥹 Cue the waterworks.
“This was how life went. A single moment seemed to extend forever, then suddenly you were snapped out of it. The forward motion of time stretched whatever rubbery glue-like substance had fixed you there until it failed catastrophically. You weren’t the person you were before you got trapped; you weren’t the person you were while you were trapped: the merciless thing about it, Liv discovered, was that you weren’t someone entirely different either.”
