Ain't no angel gonna greet me, it's just you and I, my friend.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

[Late morning, Sunday, April 18, Day 322]
[The park]


Ain't been th'easiest few weeks've ever had'n m'life, 'at's fer sure. Least th'weather's startin' t'warm up, so we could open fer bizness should we want to. But most folks're questionin' whether we oughta bother. Those few've us't're still makin' money gen'rally get sought out whether th'Lot's open 're no, an' th'rides 'n games've pretty much lost'eir mystique, havin' been'ere fer near a year now. We's all tired, by'is point, tired 'n runnin' low on money. Least now we c'n catch some ovvour own food, but I think most people've lost a few pounds over th'course'a th'winter.

Me, I ain't got no more pounds t'lose. An'I guess I can't complain. Genny's back t'er old self, an'I ain't sure'er ma's ever gonna let'er out ovver sight again. M'twins seem t'be settlin' in, though I worry 'bout poor Hope, learnin' t'live wit'out eyes. 'm makin' 'nough money t'get by, an' ain't no disasters happened lately, which's 'bout all y'c'n hope for innis town.

Gotta say, though, I like Nanshe, but two women livin' n one room an' not havin' sex gets a li'l bit gratin'. She's good people'n she tries t'give me m'space, but 'ere's only so much y'c'n do. Left early t'day, jes' t'get some breathin' room.

Norm'lly'd head t'th'tavern (fuck what time't is), but...well, ain't been to th'tavern inna while. I don't wanna be th'one t'explain t'Verdi why Tez ain't 'round no more. An' bein' someplace where him'n me used t'spend so much time...well. I ain't hungry, an'I don't really feel like bein' 'round a crowd, so skip th'cafe. End up sittin' atta park bench, lightin' a cig, an' wond'rin' what th'hell'm s'posed t'do next.


[OPEN, particularly to SIMON but others may drop in]

Ain't no angel gonna greet me, it's just you and I, my friend.

[syl-thorn.livejournal.com]

[Late morning, Sunday, April 18, Day 322]
[The park]


Ain't been th'easiest few weeks've ever had'n m'life, 'at's fer sure. Least th'weather's startin' t'warm up, so we could open fer bizness should we want to. But most folks're questionin' whether we oughta bother. Those few've us't're still makin' money gen'rally get sought out whether th'Lot's open 're no, an' th'rides 'n games've pretty much lost'eir mystique, havin' been'ere fer near a year now. We's all tired, by'is point, tired 'n runnin' low on money. Least now we c'n catch some ovvour own food, but I think most people've lost a few pounds over th'course'a th'winter.

Me, I ain't got no more pounds t'lose. An'I guess I can't complain. Genny's back t'er old self, an'I ain't sure'er ma's ever gonna let'er out ovver sight again. M'twins seem t'be settlin' in, though I worry 'bout poor Hope, learnin' t'live wit'out eyes. 'm makin' 'nough money t'get by, an' ain't no disasters happened lately, which's 'bout all y'c'n hope for innis town.

Gotta say, though, I like Nanshe, but two women livin' n one room an' not havin' sex gets a li'l bit gratin'. She's good people'n she tries t'give me m'space, but 'ere's only so much y'c'n do. Left early t'day, jes' t'get some breathin' room.

Norm'lly'd head t'th'tavern (fuck what time't is), but...well, ain't been to th'tavern inna while. I don't wanna be th'one t'explain t'Verdi why Tez ain't 'round no more. An' bein' someplace where him'n me used t'spend so much time...well. I ain't hungry, an'I don't really feel like bein' 'round a crowd, so skip th'cafe. End up sittin' atta park bench, lightin' a cig, an' wond'rin' what th'hell'm s'posed t'do next.


[OPEN, particularly to SIMON but others may drop in]

sun in the sky, you know how I feel

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

Sunday afternoon, outside the general store

It's not as nice a day as we've had lately, but it's too humid to sit cooped up in the apartment. So I'm sitting on the porch with a basket of sewing, and if it starts raining I'll stay dry. I've got a pitcher of ginger ale, and I'm hemming one of Tess's skirts. It's a comfortable sort of way to pass the afternoon.

I'm quite content at the moment. Glass has started working at the store a couple of days a week, and I'm glad to be able to help her out - and it's good to have her around. I can't help worrying about her and Iago, but I know she's strong. Whatever happens, I think she will manage. It won't be too long before I should start knitting baby things, I think, and smile to myself.

I went to the abbey this morning for services. I need to speak to Damien and find out if he had any luck finding Nanshe. I spoke to Nanse-kam, and he said no one has had any dream visions of Nanshe since the mass dreaming we all shared - but that that in itself isn't worrying, because Nanshe rarely shows herself directly. Still, I wish we knew for sure she was alright...

I realise I've misstitched, thinking about this, and I sigh and unpick the last couple of stitches. Fussing won't help anyone.

[open]

sun in the sky, you know how I feel

[kateohara.livejournal.com]

Sunday afternoon, outside the general store

It's not as nice a day as we've had lately, but it's too humid to sit cooped up in the apartment. So I'm sitting on the porch with a basket of sewing, and if it starts raining I'll stay dry. I've got a pitcher of ginger ale, and I'm hemming one of Tess's skirts. It's a comfortable sort of way to pass the afternoon.

I'm quite content at the moment. Glass has started working at the store a couple of days a week, and I'm glad to be able to help her out - and it's good to have her around. I can't help worrying about her and Iago, but I know she's strong. Whatever happens, I think she will manage. It won't be too long before I should start knitting baby things, I think, and smile to myself.

I went to the abbey this morning for services. I need to speak to Damien and find out if he had any luck finding Nanshe. I spoke to Nanse-kam, and he said no one has had any dream visions of Nanshe since the mass dreaming we all shared - but that that in itself isn't worrying, because Nanshe rarely shows herself directly. Still, I wish we knew for sure she was alright...

I realise I've misstitched, thinking about this, and I sigh and unpick the last couple of stitches. Fussing won't help anyone.

[open]