Text is a graphic thing / / / The wind will know your name / And you don't have to run / You don't have to change

Hail, friendos!

It's a perfect rainy day here -- warm and drizzly and nice :)

I'm catching up on stuff, so I figured I'd drop an update here as well... a lot's been going on! I found a new doctor to try to even out some of my medications, I got a new rat friend (two, really: Edgar and Hiram -- but Hiram I've been taking in for a friend, and heeee's....not really fitting in unfortunately :c He keeps biting Edgar, and I haven't been able to spend as much time with him as I'd like in order to get him the socialization he needs); I also have a couple of illustration gigs on the table(?!?!!?!?!!??), which I'm planning to focus on this week O_O My back continues to make popping noises in new and UNFORTUNATEinteresting ways. I have SO MANY WAIFU, and I have been reading ALL THE LIBRARY THINGS

HEY speaking of library thiiiings:

I CAN'T STOP LISTENING to the new(ish) Future Islands album The Far Field. It's SO GOOD YOU GUYS.

FUTURE ISLANDS IS FUCCCCKKING AMAAAAZIIINGGGGG

OMGGGGGGGGGGG   \;O;/

* * *

Weave songs of loving late,

Dream songs of dying.

Recite the oakwood flame:

rings count my olden days

I’ve seen the beaches,

breached the peak of ‘please,’ and ‘thanks.’

I’ve seen my features age --

my fingers, strange.

From the dew

From the dew of the fields

we grew

* * *

PLEASE support this excellent band with dollars if you can. I'm looking for their CDs at the upcoming library sale, and if I can't find them there I'm going online for themmmm. THEY ARE SO GOOOOD

I'm also (finally) starting to listen to the other CDs I checked out from the library, including FJM's album, Pure Comedy:

These mammals are hell-bent
on fashioning new gods

so they can go on being godless animals

So that's good so far :o

I'm gonna post about many books soon! For now, here are some more musics, and I hope you are all well out in the world, lovely things. ♥

* * *

* * *

Was it real? When we held our hands
close to flame, just to feel?

I’ll show you the way:
just walk beside the low stream,
until it fades
into a honey colored field --
the wind will know your name,
and you don’t have to change.
You don’t have to change.

Love is real.

Our love was real.
It’s a hand,
It’s a hold.
It’s a shield.

Our love was real.
Our love was real.
It’s to hope, it’s to dream.
It’s to heal.

It’s to heal.