And there is no health within us

Our broadband has been iffy since Wednesday night, tending to slip out of synch. The next-door bro keeps it going by playing web radio 24/7 which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. I've learned not to close the solitaire window because even when the broadband isn't there for anything else that site will still stay connected, for reasons I don't entirely understand. Waking to no email or lj is bearable if I have that, because klondike solitaire is what I do as a break while writing whatever story I have on hand: and having no email or lj means that, shou ga nai, I must write stories or read manga, and these last four days I do both. There's a certain spaciousness, a lack of pressure, in writing a story that can't be uploaded anywhere. Otherwise this one would have driven me mad long ago, trying to capture in English the cadences of a character whose Japanese has no English equivalents. (Like a tendency to end quite colloquial sentences with 'wai,' that I'm reading- mistakenly perhaps- as archaic old style.)

When the broadband works I spend hours reading things that don't interest me, hoping that something eventually will. Bad as drugs; except that the drugs I know at least inspire me to write but metafandom, f_w, cat_macros and random strangers' lives don't.

(no subject)

And having nattered about the spaciousness of not being able to upload fic, I upload fic. This is probably a remix of the first Kai story, without the squicky bits and in spite of it being a solecism to remix your own stories. IOW, nothing new except a certain almost-seasonableness. The sakura are over in Japan and not yet out here, but it's still an April story.

"To think that two and two are four"