I listened to this podcast where Richard was talking about how he got really into Shakespeare and became obsessed, which just confirms to be my Shakespeare reincarnation belief (like in the sense that he could be the equivalent to modern Shakespeare)! but also how he uses Shakespeare in his works e.g. monologue in Half Man, but maybe also his approach to acting?!? Also I feel like I’ve been reading some of his book recs, and I can’t say this enough but I highly recommend the young team if you enjoyed half man!
ohhhh interesting... do you have a link for the podcast?? i'd LOVEEE to listen :DD i'm not super knowledgeable when it comes to shakespeare HAHAH but i think there's definitely an argument to be made about his influence/touch on richard's writing and fluidity in acting <3 think there's a theatre quality to both that's lovely. and oh!! THANK YOUUUU i'll look this up on goodreads--is it the one by graeme armstrong??
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taking E sublingual is so crazy like i get to feel so fucking happy and silly and appreciative of the people around me for a blissful moment and then i can sleep nicely in the comedown it soooo fucking good transitioning is the best thing i ever fucking did.
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Now that it's 8 p.m., it's 90 degrees instead of a hundred, so it was time to gather up the strawberry runners and see if they wanna be their own plants! Luckily, my sweet little ferals love their food bringer enough to supervise from a distance. (For the boy, that distance is about 12 inches from my feet, but no closer. He's a lover.)
(Sappy cat yapping below and bonus cat pictures)
The kitty on the top is Braveheart. He's part of the very difficult April of 2024. I had already lost one very beloved feral, and Braveheart (though I hadn't named him yet) was very injured, but still fast enough that I couldn't catch him. It's bonkers that he healed as well as he did (or survived at all) with just a slightly wonky hip that doesn't slow him down at all. And he's still so sweet to me even after all that, because he knows I'm the food lady. (Cats are smart.) He's about 2 and a half.
The second black cat, pictured here sitting off in the yard, is Momma. She was born before I moved in here. She came with the house (so she's at least 5). She tolerates me. Kinda. She glares at me from across the yard. She doesn't come eat until she sees me heading inside. She doesn't much care for her kids getting too close either, really. I love her with my entire heart. I'm so glad that we've hit the two year anniversary of her not having to have any more kittens. I sobbed with relief the day I finally trapped her to get her to her spay appointment. She has birthed (and lost) so many kittens. Now she spends her days in my backyard, sunbathing and eating and hating everyone. I'm so happy for her.
The little gray lady is Princess Pudding Pants. I was quite certain, her first summer, that she was dead. I trapped and neutered her two brothers when they were teeny tiny (just big enough that I could be certain they were weaned) and brought them in to live the cozy life because they were young enough to domesticate, but she disappeared (for weeks and weeks and weeks) so I thought I'd lost her. Then one day I went out to feed the colony and there she was. She was too old to domesticate, but I got her fixed. She never had to carry a litter of kittens. She's got two years under her belt of living in my backyard and yelling at me when I go out for feedings. She adores her brother Braveheart and he loves her right back. (He was Momma's second to last litter and she was the last.)
Long story short, these kids have my whole heart, just like my inside cats. ♡
Bonus: Princess Pudding Pants' brothers, Dorian (black) and Cole (gray).
