My mind is in conflict. After hundreds of hours working on music, with a task well done, the only thing I am certain of was the fact that I did not want to dedicate anymore time to endless tours of internet searches to influence my musical decisions. However I(more) refuse to spend anytime wasted on facebook henceforth and those my path is cleared; I will prepare for the upcoming Nanowrimo! Perhaps I will immerse myself in my copy of Cloud Atlas, with a dictionary in hand, to cure myself of being a neophyte who has a judiciously sub-par lexicon. Whatever choice I do make on my preparation I just hope and pray that gedit is a formatable word processor.(less)
two pastors and their wives and families sit in the living room directly below me. they are talking about some celebrity ministers recent fall from grace, the process behind reinstating people in the ministry, and the impossibilities of everything in the entire world, i guess.
electric ringing blarin(more)g noises, the sharp tuning screams of a guitar and amplifier and the foot pedal machine that makes it all worthwhile; i wake up confused. a newspaper opens somewhere, its dated 1968 and 90% of the text is in korean. a korean american band is making big waves in the local music scene. a newspaper closes. i remember my dad had dreams once.
somewhere in the distance, herman and his crew are revving up their colossal red lawnmowers and preparing to make this self-entitled neighborhood look a little cleaner. i can hear them yell out to each other with their this uruguayan accents and i wonder what its like to be part of a brotherhood like that. though i suppose having to work for these shitty people wouldnt be too great.
over the phone he tells me about his adventures in albania with the peace corps. wholly satisfying, his words. every day an adventure; exactly what he needed. he says hes never bored and never felt so alive in his life. envy grows inside me like the evening tide. i can hear it bathe my other emotions in its calm and collected toxicity, eroding the walls of my stomach and the edges of my vision.
my neighbor asks what it is im most excited about in this upcoming year. i smile weakly while my mind races to come up with an answer, any answer, anything to mask the fucking void.
"You have GOT to stop letting Rise stay in our apartment without telling me," Yosuke said, crossing his arms and glaring at Souji.
"She's already here," Souji replied, gesturing to the blanket-covered lump on the couch beside them. "Unless you want to be the one to wake her up."(more)
"Heck no! Last time she kicked me in the eye."
"You have my permission to poke her with the broom, if it makes you feel better." Souji was smirking; it had been a clear attempt to lighten the mood, but Yosuke wasn't having it. Rise's renewed popularity meant that she was constantly touring, but for some reason, whenever she passed through their city, she always ended up on Souji and Yosuke's couch.
Yosuke glanced towards the closet that held the broom, but decided against it. It wasn't that he didn't like Rise-- quite the opposite, actually. It was the way she dropped into their lives, stirred up some chaos in her usual way, and then was gone a day or two later, leaving Yosuke increasingly confused about his life and himself.
He didn't like to think about it, so he didn't like having her here. But he hadn't been able to say that to Souji.
"It's fine," he finally said, begrudgingly, turning to stalk off towards the bedroom. He was stopped mid-step by Souji's hand gripping his shoulder.
Souji turned Yosuke back around to face him. "Don't say it's fine when it's not fine," he said, getting that serious We Need To Chat About Your Feelings look on his face. Then, inexplicably, the corner of his mouth turned up. "Are you... jealous?"
"No!" Yosuke spluttered, pulling away and taking several quick steps back. "No, I'm not JEALOUS, I just..." He sighed and glanced at Rise again. "I don't like to share."(less)
I look out to my backyard, my contained wilderness. The overgrown vines that took claim of the fence decades ago, the grass the buds between my brick walkways, and the pecan tree encroaches on the telephone wires. Even the orange tree, cut in a pleasing way, has its white paint worn(more) thin. The humanity is nearly gone in my backyard and the simple choice for me is to keep it that way. (less)
Out of the burning ruins of evil they came, the straggling bands, proof of God's perfect love and terrible wrath.
A long time ago, they had loved their God, but had abandoned him in favor of the sinful pleasures of the twin cities, known far and wide for(more) debauchery and crime. But now--Well, of course they believed in their God again now. The cities behind them were burning, the final terrible act of a God that they could not comprehend. God had given them an out, a free pass, a simple choice: Walk forth with me and don't look back at the wickedness of the past...Or look back.
Really, there was only one answer, the straggling people thought as they fled from the smoke and the screams. Their God had split open the skies in fire and fury, and they were humbled but also a little scared. They wanted to be clean again, to be pure, to be safe.
The wife also wanted this, but a part of her also remembered the thrill of the other man, not her husband, who had slid her dress straps off her shoulders, and the fiendish pleasure of living in the darkened night of the cities, her every deed unpunished, every sinful desire fulfilled.
She looked back, and stared the dying twin cities straight in their eyes, saw the evil and deceit and fire. She suddenly saw every wicked deed she had done, laid out before her like food at a Passover dinner, and then she looked down and saw her feet turning into dust and salt, and then she saw no more.
In front of her, her husband heard or felt SOMETHING, because he stopped and said his wife's name. She did not answer, but he didn't look back.(less)
"Whatever it is you're going to ask, the answer is no," Gotou said, standing in front of the burner and monitoring the boiling water. Masayoshi stood in the open doorway, perplexed, rainwater dripping from his hair and pattering softly behind him.
(more) "I haven't even ASKED anything," Masayoshi protested, setting his bags down on the step and heeling off his shoes. Gotou scooped the bag, and the six-pack up, holding the beer.
"You brought me beer, you're trying to get me to do something," he said, and walked the groceries over to the small kitchenette area. He stuck the beer in the fridge, and rifled through the other bag as Masayoshi came up behind him and slid his arms around Gotou's waist.
"You are no fun," he huffed, resting his chin on Gotou's shoulder.
"You are soaking wet," Gotou elbowed him, and Masayoshi released him. "You're going to catch a cold running around with no umbrella."
"I'm fine," Masayoshi scuffed a hand through his hair and stepped back. Gotou glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, and Masayoshi grinned at him. "Please?"
"No." Gotou binned the bag and Masayoshi huffed.
"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!"
"You brought beer," Gotou said, and returned to his dinner preparations. "You thought I was gonna say no from the outset and were gonna try to bribe me."
"Heroes don't bribe people!"
"I seem to remember an episode of Ensemble! on a few weeks back that said differently," Gotou murmured, and tried hard not to smile at Masayoshi's annoyed squawk.
"Don't use other toku shows against me!" Masayoshi whined. "C'mon, it's just a holiday party, Ishihara can't go and I'm expected to be there."
Gotou paused and frowned. "A holiday party...?"
"A costume party!" Masayoshi said enthusiastically.