well, i’ve been trying to think of what to say to push that crying-while-masturbating post down a bit, but. i got nothing. i’m feeling kind of dumbly content. we have enjoyed two full crisp consecutive days of genuinely fall weather here in charm city* which pleases me down to the depths of my scorpion soul. i wore one of my favorite pairs of over the knee socks today and i looked very nice in said socks.** ciders of all kinds are out on display at The Classy and Kind of Exciting Liquor Store—i stopped on my way home—i purchased and i am about to take a chance on something that claims it is an authentic basque apple cider—wtf, i dunno, hey, i just want[ed] to be hot and loose for my friday night in with gus. (gus? i hear you ask. yeah. he’s a special friend of mine. big, blue, and silicone. it’s short for augustus. he’s german i guess. he is rather well-endowed—of course nothing like uncle eustace—of course uncle eustace is slightly abnormal—or, as my friend O. said: ‘holy christ, who does your doctor think you’re fucking?’) (or the BFF: ‘you could grow orchids under that thing!’) (uncle eustace is made of glass, so, yeah. he’s got a sinister victorian knick-knack thing going on.) (he’s like—your guardian who has always lived abroad and had his attorney manage your affairs—but after you finish school, he comes to visit—or maybe invites you to his place—in florence—OKAY STOP IT RIGHT NOW.
okay, i’m stopping it! i just wanted to explain about the name uncle eustace. )
anyway. my inexplicably wise BFF pointed me in the direction of ‘the dunwich horror’ and i think i’ve just been barking up the wrong lovecraft, because that was great. i mean: creepy rural massachusetts, great god pan namecheck, a character named zebulon, weird assumptions about sanskrit, what more do you need! (oh, theories of racial degeneration, you say? well it’s got that too.) (and the cats of ulthar has….cats!)
* seriously that’s what They call it.
** (he begins rolling her socks down.) ‘how come you don’t have…like…those….indentations, baby?’ ‘because my socks fit.’