And I can't help but wish that your dialogue was written by Tim Schafer

I just ran into two non-binary songs in the same night, which hasn't happened since I bought House Blend in the late spring of 2014.

Worriers' "They/Them/Theirs" is freely available on The Austin 100: A SXSW 2016 Mix; it can also be found on their most recent album Imaginary Life (2015).

What if I don't want something that applies to me?
What if there's no better word than just not saying anything, anything?
You are fighting between a rock and why bother
We are floating between two ends that don't matter

From the same mix, I followed The Spook School's poly love song "August 17th" back to their most recent album Try to Be Hopeful (2015), which turned out to contain the anthemic "Binary."

But the world tells us
01, 01, 01, 01, 01
No, we are not
01, 01, 01, 01, 01
Body or head not
01, 01, 01, 01, 01
Capacity for love not
01, 01, 01

I feel I should point out that other songs on the same album address, among other subjects, being queer, kinky, non-gender-conforming, aromantic, and hopeful, all in very catchy pop-punk. It is sadly not downloadable, having been the B-side of a very limited vinyl single, but I have been repeat-playing off Bandcamp their hilarious and painful "David Bowie Songs," with the narrator lamenting—as in the title of this post—that their crush object doesn't live up to their favorite media.

No doubt I will have more to report when I have finished listening to the hundred-song, six-hour mix, of which I made it through about half before I looked at the time, but these are a good pair of leads to start with.

и тут он, отставив в сторону примус, выхватил из-за спины браунинг

ladymondegreen has given me a T-shirt which reproduces the 1967 Signet paperback cover of Michael Glenny's translation of The Master and Margarita, the one featuring a rakish-looking Behemoth with a bowtie and a gun. (Hardcover dust jacket reproduced here, with a better image of the demon-cat.) I have naturally worn it to spend the afternoon with my own troublemaking black cats. They have not disappointed. On hearing the rustle of crunchy things, Autolycus decided they must be some new and rarified kind of cat treat and instantly attempted to launch himself into the bag. This is maybe not on the same level as drinking vodka, but I'm not asking him to graduate. I write this post with him purring in my lap, getting in the way of the keys.