small gods and playgrounds

When was the last time you played?

Me? Well, tonight.

And the white sangria (tastes like pineapple juice. Exactly. Dangerous, that.) had nothing to do with it.

After a delightful meal, my dear Gwendolyn¹ sykii and I were enjoying a post-prandial stroll through Inwood Hill Park, and discovered that the Indian Road Playground stays open till 1 am.

At first, it was just memory lane, you know? What we would have imagined stuff to be (war stations, living chessboards, hallowed hallways through which to make stately evil imperial marches.

But then... there were swings, people. Swings. I love swings. Closest thing to flying I've found ever. And I slid down the corkscrew slide, and sykii can still hang upside down by her knees. We can't really be grown up, can we? If we can still do that?

Seriously, it was kaleidoscopically fun.

I can't wait to go back.


¹ Obligatory Importance of Being Earnest Reference, pay it no mind.


(P.S. Gratuituous Icon Postage. ARE THEY NOT ADORABLE? I think I ship it.)

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little

via rm: I found this delightful piece of nausea inducing vitriol from the mouth of author, John C. Wright. It's one of the most offensive things I've ever read. More so even than Orson Scott Card, which is saying something.

It's also really charming to see names I recognize from various fandoms (Star Wars being a particular offender) agreeing with this crap. I knew these folk wrote het, but I didn't realize it was from hate as opposed to "I just happen to ship this."

faris_nallaneen: we were eying some of his books the other day in B&N. I think we can safely say avoid, yes?

If you too wish to express dismay with the power of your pocketbook, here's a list of all his works.