thoughtformed

I'd like to thank everyone who has made Progressing Post-Mortem a success so far. For the meeting on the 30^th, we'll be moving to my apartment, East 204.

So I thought we'd make it into a potluck! It would be fun if everyone made a dish from their home — or tried to, anyway, I know some ingredients are probably hard to come by. I'm not much of a cook, but I'll make fish stew from Four if I can get close enough to the shore to catch anything. This way, we can learn more about where everyone comes from. And table reservations won't get changed to Necrophiliacs Anonymous, and I won't have to have an awkward conversation with the owner that ends in us getting kicked out.

Thank you for that one.

[ Locked: Private, probably hackable or whatever because LOL TECHNOLOGY ]
There would've been a great market back in the Capitol for gender-switching.

I assume that if I keep telling myself to stop thinking in those terms, eventually I will.

The Host Club here isn't anything to worry over, I think. But people disappear. I can't feel safe here— even if I did, Johanna would just kill me again. Unease keeps us on our toes.

Still, I miss home. Not necessarily Panem, just the feeling of a home. It's been a while.

I think of these things to keep myself from thinking of Annie and the baby.

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I may have to.

Is it working? Feel less like making another break for it?

Completely tamed and sated.

That's funny, the therapist they send me to is making me feel the exact opposite. Wonder why.

You know me better than that, right? Anyway, I figure as long as I have to talk about it in public, I'm doing just fine and want to stay here forever.