Sturgeon moon.

 "I don't understand why I'm still getting my info, I'm pretty sure the pixie-train has sailed."

Casta. Acosta.

Notes, on an instrument, trying at first, skilled as learned hands finds their way. A winter sun is rising to the noise. Pale blue rays of frost sparkles in dim yellow sunlight. Seagulls in silent flight. A building, nine storages tall, reflecting the end of the day. Anticipation. The green of the forest does not intrude. Soft, rolling hills. The shade becomes cold. Why is white the dominating color? Building blocks of stone. The woods, the water, the stone sky. What is freedom of movement? What return to darkness remains heralded? The cold comes creeping. The blue, the green and the almost white. Where are you? Hours pass. A boat is seen traveling in the distance. The mountain's shadow makes itself known. Blurred music in the background. The urge to pee is rising, the subsides after relieving. The moment between moments. Distorted. Bells from the flag pole. What's next? Servant of snakes. Purple comes. Noise and light pollution in the night. And then it arrives in blood orange red.

The moon is a mysterious mistress indeed. The shivers from changing position stops. Calm wind. Somewhere bellow, the party starts. I have no intention of joining.

Buck moon.

Drunk Alchemist Scarlet Witch.
Evil drunk that sat next to the demon.
And my favorite: drunk raven keeper mayor (male Halfling) of Castlefalls.

Pride: cancelled.

This has not ben the year for Pride. What was supposed to be my Fifth Exalted March: CANCELLED. Why? Because some asshole shot and killed and wounded members of my community.

Having traveled to the capital for the singular purpose of marching, I just wanted to pack up again and go home, starting the grieving process.

The hotel staff members were very understandable.

Yesterday I was able to walk around in public feeling normal, looking forward to the March. Today the fear is back.

I passed the site on my way to the station. Stood across the street and watched in silence. Pride is a personal thing to me, and so is the pain.

I'm not certain how to process this grief.

Strawberry moon.

Sometimes a name's a name is a name and you get used to it over time. Don't tell me repetition don't work!

Number nine.

The book made me cry several times. It is, however, the third time reading it, but sometimes what one experience later in life makes one relate to other happenings prior in a very different light. To me, it was loneliness

Whilst the book does go to great length in describing it, the more revealing parts happens in relation to others: a beloved dog, a understanding for a religion not of one own, the great beyond and how it beacons... How it does beacon. Black. Empty. Silent. The Void is there. Waiting. You can put whatever word you want at it. Death. Passing on. Facing it. And yet, it reminds.

Tears. Tears of joy, tears of sadness. Tears of release. Tears of gratitude.
Sometimes the simple act of crying is enough.

Flower moon

 Piss, shit and pizza.

Pink moon

Not Floyd, but moon. Gosh darn it, now I'm craving some psychedelic music.

Also, this should have been posted on the 16th of April, but holidays and being away made it difficult.

I've watched the Matrix (the original from 1999) with my mother and she liked it, although we had very, very different points of view. But that's fine.

Summer is coming.

Worm moon

Having a fire alarm going off at the end of your shift is not the best way to end it. Thank the gods it was a false alarm, though.

Snow moon

 It's cold, it's cold.

A lousy take of the modern family unit.

 I was asked, at work, if, of all things, I was a mother. I must confess, the question stunned me slightly, and I was unable to process and reply at first. In due time, I was able to utter that, no, I was not a mother, not in the traditional sense, as I did not have offspring of my own to care and look after. As the more queer perceptive of you already have noted, in this world with “your kids, my kids, our kids” that we all seemingly live in, I could have hinted at being part of a non-traditional family unit that did came with kids in one form or another. Regardless, that is not the case, as children is not a part of my current household. Nor are pets, for that matter. It is, however, of the number five (no mambo) in total, and we all get pretty well alongside one another. My next-door roommate even works the same sort of shift as I do, so folks were already in the know of how to adjust to that when I moved in, and it pleases me greatly.

 

Not that my household is the Imperial Household, the Royal Household, or even the Presidential Household, for that matter, but it is mine, my own, and I’m quite fond of it, thank you very much.

Wolf moon

 Welcome. Stay a while and listen.