Brooding, and life notes.

Not doing so hot. Dissociation continues apace; emotional reality is more than a touch discontinuous. I suspect extraordinary efforts at establishing connection would help, but are not in the offing; normal communication is insufficient and small slights have magnified effect. Depression may also be involved, but I'm taking my damn pills.

Talked with my father today; he's not coming up to a visit after all. We discussed various and miscellaneous things (cheshyre, the missile test you wrote about in your blog the other week -- I was right, Dad considers that and how it was spun business as usual for missile defense systems.) We also had a bit of conversation that went a bit like: "You rang." "You rang back." "You initiated this sequence of ringing." "Oh, I don't know. I was there when you were born. You were loud." "You started me." "Er, yes. I suppose I can't beat that. Beyond that it just gets ontological." I am my father's daughter, yes.

Bottled the lime-ginger melomel. It's almost mellowed enough to be drinkable; sipping it is no longer the taste equivalent of someone driving tacks through my tongue, at least. Also racked the braggot and tried a little of it; I think I'll want a larger drink to make any serious evaluations of what I think. Started the rhodomel, which is bubbling away merrily (though not as zippily as the braggot did); I'm suspecting what I'm doing to get the yeast started is making for fast early fermentations.

I have this wonderfully Discordian idea that will probably need to incubate a bit before it hatches into something constructive. I've also written 215 words in the last two days (on the WIP, as opposed to the 800-word . . . thingy of a few days back) which is at least infinitely better than absolutely nothing. Not sure about the spellwork; may harass oneironaut for comments.

Watched MiB with teinedreugan. Or rather most of it, because our DVD is damaged. Mumble.

Anything else news? Um. Well, Arthur jumped on my head earlier.