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She didn't Believe in Transcendence
Dec. 23rd, 2009 10:38 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
syl-thorn.livejournal.com[Early Afternoon, Wednesday December 9th; day 192]
[The junction of Silk Road and Main Street]
Found m’self gettin’ more’n more restless ‘ese days. Might be th’new magic runnin’ through m’veins. Might be worry fer Tez’n Tess ‘n m’twins. Might be keyed up over Lily…th’girls’t th’Grindhouse ‘re keepin’n eye out for’er, know’t I told’em who she wuz (soon’s I heard she hadn’t been ‘round ferra few days I spread th’word), an’ey swear ‘ey’ll tell me soon’s she gets back. Bu’s been a while now, an’ nobody’s seen’er, an’m startin’ t’wonder if’n she’s gone for good. In which case…bloody fuckin’ hell, I did alla’is fer nothin’? Guess’t might come in handy later, mebbe, but…tempted t’hunt’er down ‘n go after’er jes’ on bloody princ’ple.
Might be’at. Might even be Slaughterman. Might be alla th’bove. All’s I know izzat after th’mornin’ gath’rin’ (leaves shiny wit’ frost, drops’a frozen dew, last flower gone crystal wit’ ice…yeah, there’s some thin’s y’c’n only getting th’north) I couldn’t stand th’thought’a bein’ cooped uppin m’wagon workin’ for th’rest’a th’day. Figure’ll head inta town, mebbe swing by Tez’s place ‘n get ‘nother look attis truck, see if’n I c’n figure out where’m goin’ wrong wit’ th’damn heater (still gobblin’ fuel too damned fast t’be’ve any use; wish me’n Tess’d hadda chance t’really poke attit). Thinkin’ onnit, can’ ‘member th’last time I jes’ swung inta town. Mighta been th’time I met’at weird li’l blonde chick on th’bridge. Ages ago, dammit. Gonna hafta do better’n’at, I reckon, or’ll go crazy ‘fore winter ends.
But Tez ain’t ‘round, so th’truck’s out. Thought ‘bout goin’ by th’butcher shop, but dunno’t I should bother Simon while’e’s workin’. Tavern’s closed. Might go by th’café later, get some lunch ‘n some coffee, but ain’t puckish ‘nough ferrat yet. So I walk, take a look’t somma th’Christmas’n Solstice dec’rations people’re puttin’ up. No snow yet, but th’frost’s ling’rin’ on th’stonework an’ th’dead leaves in th’street. Pretty, innits way.
Find m’self whistlin’ azzi walk.
[OPEN]
[CLOSED]
[The junction of Silk Road and Main Street]
Found m’self gettin’ more’n more restless ‘ese days. Might be th’new magic runnin’ through m’veins. Might be worry fer Tez’n Tess ‘n m’twins. Might be keyed up over Lily…th’girls’t th’Grindhouse ‘re keepin’n eye out for’er, know’t I told’em who she wuz (soon’s I heard she hadn’t been ‘round ferra few days I spread th’word), an’ey swear ‘ey’ll tell me soon’s she gets back. Bu’s been a while now, an’ nobody’s seen’er, an’m startin’ t’wonder if’n she’s gone for good. In which case…bloody fuckin’ hell, I did alla’is fer nothin’? Guess’t might come in handy later, mebbe, but…tempted t’hunt’er down ‘n go after’er jes’ on bloody princ’ple.
Might be’at. Might even be Slaughterman. Might be alla th’bove. All’s I know izzat after th’mornin’ gath’rin’ (leaves shiny wit’ frost, drops’a frozen dew, last flower gone crystal wit’ ice…yeah, there’s some thin’s y’c’n only getting th’north) I couldn’t stand th’thought’a bein’ cooped uppin m’wagon workin’ for th’rest’a th’day. Figure’ll head inta town, mebbe swing by Tez’s place ‘n get ‘nother look attis truck, see if’n I c’n figure out where’m goin’ wrong wit’ th’damn heater (still gobblin’ fuel too damned fast t’be’ve any use; wish me’n Tess’d hadda chance t’really poke attit). Thinkin’ onnit, can’ ‘member th’last time I jes’ swung inta town. Mighta been th’time I met’at weird li’l blonde chick on th’bridge. Ages ago, dammit. Gonna hafta do better’n’at, I reckon, or’ll go crazy ‘fore winter ends.
But Tez ain’t ‘round, so th’truck’s out. Thought ‘bout goin’ by th’butcher shop, but dunno’t I should bother Simon while’e’s workin’. Tavern’s closed. Might go by th’café later, get some lunch ‘n some coffee, but ain’t puckish ‘nough ferrat yet. So I walk, take a look’t somma th’Christmas’n Solstice dec’rations people’re puttin’ up. No snow yet, but th’frost’s ling’rin’ on th’stonework an’ th’dead leaves in th’street. Pretty, innits way.
Find m’self whistlin’ azzi walk.
[CLOSED]
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