flemmings | Turning season

My, what a long month that was. I remember it as rather nice on the whole, as any August must be that sees me sleeping, occasionally, in a hoodie and socks, and that gives me a lovely series like The Parasol Protectorate to read. Equally it was a month that saw me practically move in to my acupuncturist's studio-- left shoulder, left knee, right knee, and last night left shoulder again in a different place. Plus mysterious but perennial leg and thigh cramps that stretching doesn't relieve. I put it all down to warm weather swelling and hope it goes away when the cold returns.

But right now we're in the grey washy humid mode: too warm for just the window fan, too cool for the AC; too warm with covers on, too dank with them off; and the house smelling of the basement's mold that creeps up the vents. This too is Ghost Tide weather; the Ghost of Augusts Past crowd my livingroom: the Saiyuki one of 2000, the Barnes and Scott one of 2001, the manga one of 2003, the 100 Demons one of 2006, and all the Japanese ones I described in this story, even if I wrote that one in June-- happily for the most part but a little bittersweet still.

Soulless
Changeless
Heartless
Timeless

Kirin no Tsubasa

Ode to London
Broken Homes
Sleight of Hand
Don't, Mr Disraeli
Moon Called