Good thing I am editing the awkward Farbauti the frost Giant sex scene while the heating furnace is off for maintenance and it's only, like, minus eight outside... Wouldn't be the same if I edited it in summer.

Jim Kay's drawing. In the mood I'm in a highly relatable character.

While G and Rockstar visited gran, I grabbed Starbuck and hid Mark under the parka to keep it warm, setting out to trek my favorite walking path alongside the river. I've done that path enough times before to know I can make it 50 km a day without pauses, about 43 if I pause to take pickies or the crazy dog is with me or I get lost; or halfway and back, turning in Polzela (cca 48km). In snow and ice, though, WITH the mutt, WITH the camera, it took me three hours just to reach the lake. But the sun came out and it was SO warm <3 The General drove to the lake and brought me a bagel and tea. Perfect morning, really. The sound of frozen snow under my shoes alone was enough to transcend me to a timeless, primordial rangers' world. 

Offed to a winter hike along the river with the mutt...

... Was adorable <3

 

 

Things from the time when you still needed talent and hard work to be somebody

Watching Beatles: Eight days a Week documentary (about 30 minutes in so far), thinking why I'm so much more a David Bowie person than I am a Beatles person … And I think it's all the screaming from teenage girls (Beliebers?), at a band of young lads who had their image tailored for them by other people (their pudding bowl haircuts mentioned a dozen times and never Astrid Kircherr), who were single and  yet kept singing about love to appeal to the fan base, because they weren't honest and serious, just in it for fame and fun, and because stage personas were meant to be believed (Lennon was supposed to be this lovey kind hippie peacemaker and still he beat women), whereas Bowie… He was a freak from the get-go, a solitary man out there to shock, to change, to challenge – to appeal to nobody, constantly morphing, conforming to no rules, no society, going from terrible ideas to brilliant ideas and his songs weren't about teenage pussy all the time.

I'll probably be getting my period and that's an explanation why I'm being so emotional, but the last two days EVERYTHING is tearing me up. And I'm not talking in a sad sense- no, really, I just read a good passage in an interview in a random newspaper and I start to cry, inspired. The sun shines through the window and casts a ray onto my cake, which has a chocolate snowflake on it, and I start to sob, overflowing happiness. When I worry, I worry catastrophically. When I plan the future, I plan it like a crazy person. I just learned a new word and it inspired me to go back to university and get a masters degree in - drumroll - DOCUMENTARISTICS. 

There is a science called documentaristics. Are you ef-ing kidding me. 

Only took me eighty-seven million ninety two coffees and half that of cakes to pick up a local newspaper and read that word for teh first time. 

Man I'm feeling alive.

Please, universe, don't kill anyone to teach me a lesson in humility. I'm plenty humble. See? No wool socks and it's minus sixteen outside. I'm plenty spartan. 

Yaoi on ice

This unexpected, entirely amazing and adorable new anime in 12 parts has cheered up fairly all anime fans globally, Yuri!!! on Ice is awesome across the board and I have nothing more to say about it. I loved everything - the fact that it's about frigging male FIGURE skating for fuck'ssakes is crazy enough - but music, characters, story, choreographies, even the end credits with the instagram posts are sooo lovely. I nearly pissed myself at episode 11, when JJ, though no-one's favourite, begins to suffer a mental breakdown and everyone is singing along to his theme to support him... That shit was 'grown woman crying like a baby' level. Not to mention the ridiculously intense LOVE factor between almost every character - the possibilities of pairings is endless. And it never once goes over the suggestions, keeping it that much more intense - not when the characters are buck nekkid, not when they run into each-other's arms, not even when they claim they got engaged. Eros and Agape for the win, bitches. 

Yuri returns owerweight and defeated to his home town...

... where his old friends are super excited to see him secretly still believing in the magic of skating ...

... even though it was always the lonelyness and pressure that kept him from performing well ...

... and feeling miles behind the true talent on ice... 

.. and then our story begins :D

Treats

Totally and utterly impressed by Rupert Everton's sexy comic I roved out in search of Truth and Love.. I've never seen a better hentai graphic story, so funny and drawn in such detail. I love the plot, the characters and I am still laughing over the whole 'cursed frog prince' arc. WARNING, though, to the rare prudes in my audience - for all its artistic value, this is haaaaardcore and there's sex fairly on every page, and not the domesticated sort either :D 

Here are some.... tame pages, of which there are few :D Gods bless!

So, imagine my dad in the Neurological ward, after he's a had either a small stroke or a weird epileptic seizure, 30 hours after he’s been hospitalised. Meaning, he hasn’t had a cigarette and was forced to be still for 30 hours. Now, when we visit, we visit in a horde. It’s said only three people per visitor, but who is counting. Mum brings the cigarettes and sis asks for permission to have one. Gets one. Now dad, like a spring, in PJs that don’t fit (and always threaten to show some interesting bits), dragging his IV, tripping over it, barely dressed in a bathroom robe and caped in a borrowed parka and vested, back to front, in my parka, making his way through the hospital while one nurse is arguing he is not allowed to leave the ward, the other that he should consider quitting, maybe, at this point, and a dozen or so of us, like crazy geese, following him, getting into lifts, then out again, through doors, manoeuvring this strangest entourage, jabbering what he should and shouldn’t be doing, while dad ignores pretty much every warning and just wants his minute of tranquillity, enjoying a drag… Can you imagine the vacuum / cone of silence that remains after we exit a floor?