update from sparkleup

writing/post-self/marsh/007.html

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                 <p>The day that followed that wine-soaked afternoon and evening was&hellip;well, I couldn&rsquo;t say it was calm, <em>per se,</em> as we were all still coming to terms with the reality of what had happened, but it was certainly more level. The mood was low and Hanne and I were both laid low by crying jags at one point or another, but we doggedly stuck to our pre-catastrophe routine in an attempt to remain calm.</p>
-<p>Hanne holed up in her office for a while, working on some of her latest constructs. While the house had been littered with little <em>objets d&rsquo;art</em> from her explorations, I&rsquo;d requested that she stick to her office for working on this current trend of oneiro-impressionism. Something about the in-progress constructs hurt my eyes, and a few had led to migraines, even for her. </p>
+<p>Hanne holed up in her office for a while, working on some of her latest constructs. While the house had been littered with little <em>objets d&rsquo;art</em> from her explorations, I&rsquo;d requested that she stick to her office for working on this current trend of oneiro-impressionism. Something about the in-progress constructs hurt my eyes, and a few had led to migraines, even for her. Objects that brought the dream basis of the System into stark reality presented their own challenges.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, I spent some time catching up on reading. I&rsquo;d fallen into the habit of literary analysis and critique some decades back, and had become a habit of mine to post on the feeds. Over they ears, I had picked up my own audience.</p>
+<p>I tried not to think about how much of that audience was missing.</p>
+<p>The only break from the norm, other than those few spates of emotional overwhelm, were the occasional updates from Sedge and Dry Grass. Many of these boiled down to simple numbers. The more </p>
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                 <p>Page generated on 2023-11-10</p>

writing/post-self/marsh/008.html

@@ -53,7 +53,7 @@
 <p>&ldquo;Nope, not at all.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>She snorted, shook her head. &ldquo;Do you see the guff I must put up with, my dear?&rdquo; she asked me, a look of long-suffering pain on her face. &ldquo;I build a relationship with sweat and blood, and am repaid in snark and tired humor.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t listen to her,&rdquo; Tule said. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s just being a dramagogue.&rdquo;</p>
-<p>I laughed. &ldquo;I remember that, too,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;And I guess that&rsquo;s sort of the problem. I remember what it is about you that drew Cress and Tule &mdash; or, at least what drew Tule &mdash; and I&rsquo;m as much a Marshan as they are, so here I am, feeling awkward about being around you because I remember those months of hyperfixation, and then the comfortable normal that you settled into afterwards.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I laughed. &ldquo;I remember that, too,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;And I guess that&rsquo;s sort of the problem. I remember what it is about you that drew Cress and Tule — or, at least what drew Tule — and I&rsquo;m as much a Marshan as they are, so here I am, feeling awkward about being around you because I remember those months of hyperfixation, and then the comfortable normal that you settled into afterwards.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>All three of them smiled, all three looked a bit bashful.</p>
 <p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re all really cute together, is what I&rsquo;m saying.&rdquo;</p>
 <p>Dry Grass gave a hint of a bow. &ldquo;We do try, I believe.&rdquo; She reached forward to the box of empty skewers and tapped it against the edge of the box, cycling through options until she wound up with another set of sliced chicken to drop into the bubbling broth before her. &ldquo;Are these memories of us, of Tule&rsquo;s relationship, clashing with your lived experience to date? And how about those of Sedge and Rush?&rdquo;</p>
@@ -104,7 +104,7 @@
 <!-- for later, "God, Lily really *would* throw a fit..."-->
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-                <p>Page generated on 2023-11-06</p>
+                <p>Page generated on 2023-11-10</p>
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