There's tornadoes in Spain
Physically and emotionally, I had a frighteningly bad night and morning and at the end of this day am in more or less figuratively human shape with the help of both of my husbands and the mother of my godchild, plus my therapist, a stack of pupusas, and horchata ice cream. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch and selkie having taken the day shift, rushthatspeaks came over after work; I walked to meet him coming from the bus and we ended up at Capen Street Park.
The redbud and the forsythia are flourishing in chiasmus with the street signs.
It is that time of year when I can dive headlong into tulips again.
Whatever their funkiness, the Bradford pears make beautiful clouds.
The lilacs are just starting to break out of bud.
I do not feel in any way like a live thing, so on the assumption that I will at some future date be able to recognize myself as such, Rush-That-Speaks took this picture for the historical record.
After dinner which we ate outdoors at the Radcliffe Quad and dessert which we ate in the car with the windows down, we returned home to watch Lost Highway (1997), which I had not seen since college when it was my second David Lynch after Mulholland Drive (2001). It was as beautifully looped through itself as I remembered, though this time around I could see all the noir that had been broken down for parts and recombined into its hell-spiral. Rush played me Hank Williams' "Lost Highway" (1949) afterward. To match the film's soundtrack, WHRB had gone industrial by the time I was driving back, furnishing Cosey Fanni Tutti's "Tutti" (2019), Recoil's "Breath Control" (2000), and Pigface's "Suck" (1991), which I mistook for its later re-recording by Reznor for Nine Inch Nails. I still feel pretty shocky and a whole lot of exhausted, trapped things, but it was an objectively and subjectively loved day.
spatch and selkie having taken the day shift, rushthatspeaks came over after work; I walked to meet him coming from the bus and we ended up at Capen Street Park.
The redbud and the forsythia are flourishing in chiasmus with the street signs.
It is that time of year when I can dive headlong into tulips again.
Whatever their funkiness, the Bradford pears make beautiful clouds.
The lilacs are just starting to break out of bud.
I do not feel in any way like a live thing, so on the assumption that I will at some future date be able to recognize myself as such, Rush-That-Speaks took this picture for the historical record.
After dinner which we ate outdoors at the Radcliffe Quad and dessert which we ate in the car with the windows down, we returned home to watch Lost Highway (1997), which I had not seen since college when it was my second David Lynch after Mulholland Drive (2001). It was as beautifully looped through itself as I remembered, though this time around I could see all the noir that had been broken down for parts and recombined into its hell-spiral. Rush played me Hank Williams' "Lost Highway" (1949) afterward. To match the film's soundtrack, WHRB had gone industrial by the time I was driving back, furnishing Cosey Fanni Tutti's "Tutti" (2019), Recoil's "Breath Control" (2000), and Pigface's "Suck" (1991), which I mistook for its later re-recording by Reznor for Nine Inch Nails. I still feel pretty shocky and a whole lot of exhausted, trapped things, but it was an objectively and subjectively loved day.