Merry Christmas in July!! 🎄🎉🎁💝🍰 When was it that I started to be able to only write a certain kind of story in winter and summer? It's not that I do not love
spring and autumn, yet somehow, they feel somewhat less than. I recently read
The Frolic of the Beasts by Mishima which struck me as the perfect summer story in its depiction of the heat, of the sea, and of disfunction. Iwai Shunji's
Fireworks, Should We See it from the Side or the Bottom? similarly feels like it evokes the unease of the warmer months, of struggling to come to terms with things, as does all of
Higurashi. Maybe this is something I've trying to wrestle with for a
few years now. Regardless, there is a certain kind of story that only seems to make sense in summer or winter.
Over Christmas, I wrote a lot in the early hours of the morning, more things that I could post for
Write Whatever the Heck You Want, Courtney!, more things than I could post without alienating you, friends. In summer and winter, there's an unsettled feeling that comes over me that seems to descend from either the extreme heat or the extreme cold, and I think I might get closer to writing "
true yuri" during these moments. This isn't to say I have succeeded at all, but in these seasons, I try to write matters outside of the usual nonsense that I post—or maybe I just present the themes I usually do in a way that strips them bare of their usual window dressing. Christmas is about the unwrapping, so they say. This month, I'm going to post some of that stuff, and also, presumably write a lot more. Sometimes, I think you have to push yourself to write things in a different way in order to improve so... I'm going to do that once more.
precuretokuprompt is running once
again this month, the next batch of episodes for
Write More Power Rangers falls at the end of the month, so I'll still do that usual things, but whilst the weather is warm, whilst the sun is high, whilst our lips still carry the taste of shaved ice and watermelon, of fruit popsicles and lollies, I thought I'd take some time out to try and articulate a now familiar sort of ennui.