I can see the sky today, it's lower than usual, partly from the dawning of the dusky season, partly because it has suddenly become easier to reach.
Oh, I am aching to play Everquest, I am aching to don a wizard's or bard's or lizardman's apparel, but first I am leaning back, languishing in how close the ceiling has become.
Close enough to shatter through.
Friday's adventures with the happy fungus, Eric and I laughing so hard we were sobbing, our bodies wracked everytime straight-man-Bruno spun around on his heel and screamed "FREAKY!" and wobbled his head.
Well, I think he was wobbling.
I watched him play EQ a minute or two, inspired by his utter submersion, and his grace...
Grace, in a computer game, magic in a handful of pixels and for loops.
FIELD TRIP! And we were off driving down some strip, further west than I've been in years, riding shotgun with Eric sandwiched in back and upside down.
I marvelled at the wind and wondered where all these other cars were heading, what they had to do on a Friday night, purposeless and lost, further west than any faerie would likely have gone.
Bright lights, Burger King, tears streaming and we wandered down some path somewhere, under a bridge by a river, pebbles glistening on a beach and the first frost chewing at my cheekbones.
The cold drove my eyes open and I stood under the bridge and heard them drive by, listened to every one of them, so that whatever they did tonight, wherever they were heading, would mean something - would have meant something to someone...
All this purposelessness, and me on a rock out in the water, teetering, watching the ripples and the glow of false lights against a sky that I'd lost in my hours inside a low room with yellow walls.
All those hours, handed back to me by a 3o'clock moon and a ripple in the tide.
And the sky was to far for me to reach that night, and when the sun came up, Eric snoring in the other room, me with a remote control in my hand falling in love with Lister and Kryten all over again.
And the sun came up on the buzz in my arms, and I drove home sober and drunk on clouds and frozen air.
And I slept with dreams of sex and heady sweat in poppy fields with insects in my hair.
And today I wandered down to the comic book convention, hooked up with an old friend who's turned beautiful with the grey in his hair, hugged Kaffeine and soaked in the glory of lovingly kept collections, bought porno mags and rescued the Cerebus series from John for the cost of lunch.
And hugged Paul and found out his surname after all these years, and hugged the thousand other dreaming stragglers as I caught them by surprise, from behind, from the left or in streaming passage, as they poured over gems I'd long ago lost to newer memories.
THE BLOOD IS BLUE, MY THEETH ARE IVORY AND I AM GRAY. I'LL WEAR A BARCODE IF I HAVE TO. I TRIED TO APOLOGIZE BUT I WAS LAUGHING TOO HARD. THE COST OF MONEY IS GOING UP. I WISH YOU HEAVEN. ART IS ONLY A RUMOUR. I SAT NEXT TO HER IN BIOLOGY CLASS, SHE WAS ALWAYS DROPPING HER FROG. IF IT WAS'NT FOR ME PEOPLE WOULD THINK SURREAL WAS A BREAKFAST FOOD...
And on and on and so I bought it because the cover cried to me, the crypt of dawn and if I hold it up against the window the sky has a red sheen from the catsuit on the cover.
First issues and issue #6 of an old love and someone tried the line "wow, you know everyone don't you? Do I know you from somewhere" and I laughed and paid him half the price he was asking for and took it home and wanted to stroke her hair...
I didn't take home any posters, but death was there in a room of blood with gore trickling down the walls and one day I'll unerstand the look on her face because I'll feel my features forming it and I'll understand what the artist saw, and parking was free and the sky is even lower now but my fingers are cold and there is a dwarf in Firiona Vie that is waiting for me to brew him many more vodkas so I am off to see the spice merchant and to squeeze firebeetle eyes into shotglasses to make Bleeding Brains.
And we will drink brandy and sing our bloodlust song and rid the land of the sarnaks that have always opressed them.
And then I will sleep and tommorrow I will be a responsible boss again.
Goodnight, lovers with your eyes and my disconnected rattling of soot-stained keys, dream of swallowing a piece of sky with me, the piece that watched over you and wanted to rain the last time it saw you cry inside.
And the skies will rain away your tears... And mine.