I love irons. Not so much ironing - I rarely iron (as a verb) unless I'm going somewhere that won't let me pass off my crinkles as stylistic or my mother forces me too, during brief, cramped home visits - but the function and form of them.
(more) They scream MODERN DECADENCE in a way that, to me, is inescapable. No longer do we - in the west at least - have to stand before the fire, negotiating a hot lump of metal.
It's an electrical item you are supposed to get near water!
They vary from cheap to hideously expensive and nearly everyone has one. They're also pretty snazzy.
When I was young I touched an iron with my wrist. My dad told me not to touch, told me about danger and how only I could prevent burns but I ignored him. I was young but somehow I still exercised some caution, brushing it with my wrist.
The mark started as a fierce hash tag and is now a brown blur.
The best thing about an iron is pushing the buttons - especially the clean button, which never seems to clean anything - and watching the steam appear and then seemingly evaporate into nothing.(less)
"Where are we going?"
It's no secret that I'll follow James anywhere but it would be nice if he told me where we were going.
And while we're on the subject I couldn't stop myself from blurting out a"where the hell have you been?"
My hand always felt smal(more)l compared to his.
It's a nice feeling,his fingers entwined with mine.
He has an unconscious habit of stroking his thumb along my own which never fails to send shivers through my entire James-starved body.
"It's a long story Lizzie..."his thumb was now making small deliberate circles on the palm of my hand. He could tell me anything or nothing as long as he kept that up.
"Does this long story include the part where you forgot to tell me your brother is your identical twin?"
Shit.He stopped the sexy-circle thing.
"If he put one finger on you I swear I'll rip his arm off and beat him with the bloody end of it."
Gotta admit,a jealous James sure sounds sexy with the way his voice gets all low and intense.
"It'd serve you right if he did," I reached over and smacked his arm with my free hand. "You could have mentioned it."
He resumed the sexy-circle thumb-stroking thing and started to pick up the pace.
"I didn't think it mattered,"he mumbled.
"Didn't matter?"I was getting annoyed."What if I-"
"You wouldn't,"he said as if that was the end of the subject.
"Yeah I know I wouldn't,"I hated when he was so sure of me."But Liam would."
"Lizzie,I'm sorry,I should have told you a lot of things,and I will,"he stopped and looked into my eyes."I promise. After."
The air around us flickered.
"After we save the world,"he grinned as he grabbed my hand tighter and we jumped into The Shimmer.(less)
I heard it happened at Third and Franklin
It’s not the kind of place you would want to be seen
The steam that escapes from the manhole covers makes this place
Look like it’s gonna blow
(more) An old man passes me on the street he says, “We are god’s reality show”
The dogs move down Venetian Road as the hookers howl at the moon
Like a Tom Waits song
All the rooms smell like stale water and too much perfume
I’m lost in the window and I’m lost in my thoughts
We breed dream-like delusions beneath the covers
This all started off in the wrong direction
The hobos are listening for the 8:15 out of this place
This is the rhythm of the night; it’s not what we pictured
The sky’s held together by Chimeras’ might,
Golden eyes and sharpened teeth
This night just sweats and moans; the sirens scream obscenities
The woman in the diner was a looker in her day, but
The drugs got her and
The alcohol got her, but
No one got her
She just slipped away, floated to the end of the line
God’s island of the misused
Thrown away, castrated blues
This harvest moon
Shines with a broken edge
Ripped and shattered on the ground
I feel it leave me as the train rolls on down the line
And the city slowly disappears from the hazy-yellow window