Wednesday, February 25, 2015

A different nightscape.

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Dinner arrived.  I believe I surprised my host guest.  I was in good spirits.  Something some, most, do not understand... I am always pleased to see a familiar, friendly, and better both, face.  No matter how bad things might be.  Few have died.  Of those few have remembered.  Something I knew before I did was that dying alone was a dark thing.  If I have killed, and had the time and ability, I stayed with them until they were gone.  Not to gloat, but so as to comfort them.  We were only enemies in life.  That time had passed.  So, when I feel the hurt of the memory of death, for myself, of others, a familiar friendly face will cause me to cover the pain easily.  Much as a dying dog will try to lift himself and wag his tail when his friends approach, even at great pains.  An old dog some days.

The pain has passed, as much as it will.  It is a gift, you know.  The pain of loving and losing.  It reminds us how precious love is, how dear life is, and how alive we are.  Can't always see it, but it's there.  Yes, but that has passed, mostly, for now.  An odd and curious notion has taken it's place.  A wonder at women, love, sex, and... just kicking around with a smile and a nature.  For me that is masculine, sometimes, mostly.  But as with good and evil, where one is, the other is sure to be.  Neither have I completely left the other notion.  I am... mixed.  As bastards always are, if not always in the same ways.  I have been delayed, many times.  Others have been delayed... longer.


Kiss?  Kill?  Depends.  I really am Doom.  Sometimes the light and fuzzy has to go the way of... other things.  Innit?  Forgive.  But I am what I am.

Just an oldie night.  Mostly.  I can't help, with this next one, but to suggest that I am more and less than I might seem, but true in a nature some do not, cannot, understand.  Then again, why would you wish to understand the wondrous or terrible?  Just...  Enjoy or not.  I am Doom.

As I seek answers I must ask questions.  Some are of the type that can never be answered.  Some can at least be worked, again.  As a piece of art that is never quite done, and will not be in my time, yet commands my attention, some questions will be delved on specific occasions.  This is just one for a specific set of them.  In this song I find... if not answers then at least the right backdrop for such discovery as may go forth.

Siouxsie is my... Pris.  My musical Pris.

Finally, a bit of rye.  When ninety nine is simply not enough.  Actually a touch, or bottle or two really, of rye, would be good, I suppose I will settle for the few libations at hand.  A couple of red volcanic beertinis, perhaps a spit or two of scotch in my eye.  It's all I have so it will simply have to do.  Along with some music and thoughts.  Hmm, might get back to the book.  It is quite nigh on to divine, for us science fiction nerds, or nerds wannabe as some ladies have insisted.  Oh, right, the music.  Enjoy, or not.

Good night, or... later?  I don't know that!

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