liralen: Finch Painting (blue_angel)
[personal profile] liralen
Brain's groggy from lack of sleep and half dreaming as I write slides about resource metrics and about process basics for developers, and the backbrain dreams of the oddity of curling next to a warmish (not quite warm enough) body without pulse or breath... of muscles sleek with effort and work and stitched with sacrifice... of the feelings of a cybergirl parting the curtain of air with her long nails as she dances by the too-slow steps of other people's time. Statues to her. Invincibility bought by a quick mortality, the singularity beyond her reach, passing her by as it passes by the poor, the weak, the murderously unenlightened... of the flood of a hormonal mind grasping the crisp silicon fields of data deciding without even looking at all the billions of bits of intricately crystalized exactitude... the shivering warmth of an indrawn breath... gold buddhas alongside Catholic dispensations alongside Coyote and the thousands of gods of Hinduism with Shiva cleaning up behind...

ahem. It's just kicking at all the calm logical bits going "LET ME OUT, DAMNIT."

I think I need to play more.

And, yes, backbrain is still chewing on both Queen of the Damned and the detailed feelings and thought processes in McKinely's Sunshine.

March 2025

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