Creaking in the damp

[hawkwing_lb]

Gym stuff: climbing proved an improvement over Tuesday, though I repent most heartily my loss of conditioning.

Links of interest:

Aliette de Bodard's fantastic short story "Immersion" at Clarkesworld. (And I say this as someone who rarely reads shorts.)

Amal El-Mohtar on The Sandbaggers and Female Exceptionalism.

jennygadget has some thoughts after reading the first chapter of How To Suppress Women's Writing.

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What you might call a grand soft day today. Never got brighter than twilight, really. A rain like mist occasionally spattered into greater vigour. Crossing the Liffey between Connolly Station and the arse-end of college, the Jeannie Johnston down the river almost obscured by the mist: docklands disappearing in the rain. River high and swollen with the tide, lapping less than a meter or so from the bridge arches, the green weed-scent of river water at war with the faintest tang of brine.

If it's like this tomorrow, I don't think I want to leave the house. It makes my joints ache. I am too young to creak in the damp.

Comments

[hawkwing-lb.livejournal.com]

Alas, it is so.