Hello world
Feb. 22nd, 2008 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I find my self in an odd mood this evening, and possessed of a desire to write. A few hours ago I attempted to harness this mood and make some progress on the script (for want of a better term) for The Anxious Penguin Hour (coming to a Swancon near you). Sadly such purposeful efforts were beyond me, but something formless drove me back to the keyboard.
Alone, if you count the humans in the immediate vicinity. Briefly accompanied if you count the hoons I heard on the street earlier this evening. Blissfully united, if you count the bulk of the day spent with Husband in attendance. He's had a good work schedule this week to complement my no-work schedule, so he's been on hand to soothe, prop and stroke as required. But not right now. Right now he's leading a group of minor thrill-seekers through the dark and windy halls of Fremantle Prison. It's a good night for it, for the wind howls through the rafters and scatters the shadows. Boo.
All I wish is that he comes home to me. That's my usual departing remark, whether he's flying to another city or going to the shops for milk: "Come home to me."
But no, I am not alone, for three furry personalities watch over me with interest. Well, a little less interest than usual because they've already been fed and mucked out, but they're there. If she's willing,
rabbit1080 can stand as a witness to their actual existance and to some of their characteristics, for she was nice enough to visit the house last night. Was Princess fluffy and needy? Was Pumpkin soft and affectionate? Was Cally only briefly glimpsed as she fled from the sight of a stranger? Please be honest. This is for posterity.
And I am hardly alone if I count the community of wonder I've discovered this last year in lj. I know you're there, but at times like tonight I could wish for a little more. I blame the wind. It raises the hair on my arms and they want to be stroked. I look up at the sky through the veil of my whipping hair and want other eyes there with me to find the meteors I miss, to track the racing clouds across the moon.
Perhaps I want a cool hand on my face to tell me I have a fever, for it seems the preliminaries and insults thrown over the parapets are over and the battle is about to be joined in truth. Just let it be over. With a fever I can't visit my father. With a fever I can't visit my brother, and he needs the massage, physio, love and mild bullying that only a sister can provide. He will walk again.
With a fever I'll be trapped in this house again without the will or energy to change my environment. Colours. I've got to changes these colours. It's time to end this.
Alone, if you count the humans in the immediate vicinity. Briefly accompanied if you count the hoons I heard on the street earlier this evening. Blissfully united, if you count the bulk of the day spent with Husband in attendance. He's had a good work schedule this week to complement my no-work schedule, so he's been on hand to soothe, prop and stroke as required. But not right now. Right now he's leading a group of minor thrill-seekers through the dark and windy halls of Fremantle Prison. It's a good night for it, for the wind howls through the rafters and scatters the shadows. Boo.
All I wish is that he comes home to me. That's my usual departing remark, whether he's flying to another city or going to the shops for milk: "Come home to me."
But no, I am not alone, for three furry personalities watch over me with interest. Well, a little less interest than usual because they've already been fed and mucked out, but they're there. If she's willing,
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And I am hardly alone if I count the community of wonder I've discovered this last year in lj. I know you're there, but at times like tonight I could wish for a little more. I blame the wind. It raises the hair on my arms and they want to be stroked. I look up at the sky through the veil of my whipping hair and want other eyes there with me to find the meteors I miss, to track the racing clouds across the moon.
Perhaps I want a cool hand on my face to tell me I have a fever, for it seems the preliminaries and insults thrown over the parapets are over and the battle is about to be joined in truth. Just let it be over. With a fever I can't visit my father. With a fever I can't visit my brother, and he needs the massage, physio, love and mild bullying that only a sister can provide. He will walk again.
With a fever I'll be trapped in this house again without the will or energy to change my environment. Colours. I've got to changes these colours. It's time to end this.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-22 02:33 pm (UTC)But I'm low enough energy and fragile enough right now that it needs to be the right energy or I won't settle, relax or get the energy I need from it.
Right now I'm using music for balance, and K is awake and playing me some before he goes to bed for the night - he's been so supportive and insightful this week, and it's been one of the things that has made the weak bearable, and more than that... highlights. The good stuff.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-22 05:21 pm (UTC)I'd wondered about those strange markings she was sporting on her return home last night...
no subject
Date: 2008-02-23 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 10:19 am (UTC)My kitten (cattern now, really) is asleep on my right forearm. I am only just able to stretch to the keys to type...