Ebony and Ivory

Side by side on my keyboard... amongst other things. Wish I could still play, but the crawling sensation of a vein moving across various bones in my hand as I would practise eventually became unbearable.
It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
Alison Krauss, Buffy, resurfaced from a folder marked Gogz. Had quite a run on my mp3 player, and that was all so long ago. Only, not really.

Saw Aitchsion again, in a fashion. Trapped in the layer of a mighty red dragon, we tried to escape by solving the set puzzle before we were devoured. We (and the we changed often, from friends to family to people I share some strange bond with but have yet to meet) were the last survivors, caught in the dizzying heat. It was a book, filled with strange symbols, but eventually someone (thank the Lord for him) did something, and the dragon began to negotiate. He (assuming it was a male dragon, didn't stop to check) let us run then. Why the running scenes were all shot in splendid technicolour with Barry Block in the background and those other random buildings is a mystery for later. But we ran, down the road towards the amphitheatre/prep school. And in the running we came across a stream really, cutting across our field of vision as far as it would go. Skirmishing soldiers from different factions stood on either side, exchanging the odd blow but mostly standing ground. There was, however, no way to pass. The dragon erupted, red scales shimmering, breahing fire over those memorable red brick buildings. Typically, they remained unaffected. Hell fire would be hard pressed to damage them. But the dragon roared towards us. The we by now was most cerainly family, perhaps because it is such a set up that allows me to be most heroic ::)
Pushing and shoving, we took cover first here then there. Famliar classrooms, old archways, LJ house, overgrown plantlife. But everywhere we hid, a knight in brilliant red plate would come upon us, followed soonafter by our nemesis. A rather brilliant scene, in which my own special effects rather impressed me, was when the flames licked the road, streaming down it past the hockey grounds, while I dived off just in time. It took perhaps too long to learn the knights were scouts for dragonzolla, and when we did the time for negotiation came. And someone that was a part of we strummed a merry tune on a nearby harp, to soothe the savage beast.

I have finally, for the first time ever really, started reading Stephen King. Isn't half scary. But some of it is quite bad. The life of such desperation is not a pretty thing.

Sifting through the websites of a hundred companies, a half-hearted quest that I must complete only so as to be rid of it. Though I scorn over ambition, the sort that possess one and becomes a being itself, surrounded by an infernal aura crushing, burning all that stand before it, I wish I had some ambition. An injection of reality, though to the imagination what water is to fire, is perhaps needed. On your feet soldier! The Big Enchilada? Oh get a job and then immerse yourself in the monotony of it all. Just the thought turns me colder than a jackhammer to the back. Convuluted, or some... such :)

Reimmersion in the world I left behind. It's a curious process. Where's the world I left behind? The cottage that burnt down and was never rebuilt. The same structure that stands, so empty of life. Because to sound all emotional or sentimental about it would be wrong. It's both above and beyond, below, insignificant. Yearning for them yesteryears, but even the safety of school is better than limbo.

What would I like above all? To be ten times stronger, more agile, and a crimefighter. Still. And we can save the world from behind a desk. Staring at numbers that come floating past, making sense of our existence and the way it all works. Finance is, at the heart of it, the matrix. Don't shove that pill down my throat. For me it'll just be a pretty screensaver. To spin a web so grand, must start so unimaginably small that it seems impossible.

No. Let's talk about TERMINATOR guys! Be like water. Water in a jug, water is the jug. Water in a glass, water is the glass. I am water. I am, the moon. Water on the moon. Rapid, swift, be as strong as the coursing river. Oh dear :)

A fleeting glimpse, a shadows touch, I have been that so often. Glance of the ghost. And the exploding colours, endless spirals of creative destruction, none transmitted to nobody. Lost in the midst of my soul. So little comes from hand, from mouth. Voice, and deft fingers. A surgeons hands.

I'd like to be hypnotised. Just to see. Because nothing's really ever wrong. The waters are always smooth, sometimes the odd stone slips and makes a splash. The taste of life most bitter, unique, yet so far unless forced in some demented pleasure. Sleeping for 24 hours was, truly, marvellous.