sort of like the taste of gray

A mostly mechanical cyborg and his human-looking partner track robotic sex dolls that have murdered their masters. Animated.

"sounds like a plan"

It's fully dark here now by 6 o'clock. Autumn turning into winter, the curvature of the earth evident in the colour of leaves. I would put a soundtrack of quiet flute over walking in forest now. Crisp early afternoon, the leaves too damp for the shush sound of feet through crunchy discarded leaves.

I think we learn slowly and all at once. We, as people, accumulate. There's not a lot we don't know about things when we're around them all the time, even if we're not aware of our knowledge. This is a personal thing, perhaps, but it's unlikely that I could properly talk about the inside of anyone else's head. I know I learn by osomsis, that I know many things for which there is no explanation of my expertise. I enjoy that about myself, that I hear pronouncements spill forth from me with the heavy edged conviction of assurance.

All day I somehow knew that I would do nothing for this evening. No tangible reason, just what I knew. I don't mind. It would have been nice to go dancing, but there are other factors in play with such. Fuel for one. In spite of the fact that Silva brought over a tartus bag of food hours ago, I've been barely able to take the effort to chew and swallow. It's simply not that sort of day. All plans are meaningless.

 

Even mythically, I can't deal with two at a time because everyone gets more than half.

Wolf Parade is bloody well LOCAL! And they JUST HAD A GIG. My melody cravings require all of their work. I'm irritated that I missed out. It would have been a transcendal discovery in time for Hallowe'en.
( figuring the lyrics )

Transcribing has improved my typing immeasurably. It started with the ASCII games then went into writing out impossible to find song lyrics. The children have been bringing me down. I can feel my fingers are cold more often now. Harder to place and hold to the keys.

My mad wizard skills have been channeled too much into navigation lately and not the ming-ti. My social ninja grows rusty. To make the world a better place, I will fetch my TV On The Radio ticket today. My consolation prize for this boy leaving. He will leave first thing Friday morning, my luck will find another of Mine on-line, then I will go dancing. If the world is with me, I will spend time with the band, if not I will come home and the time zone differences will expose my vulnerabilities and make me cry. It's been impossible to hold this one. Let him slowly into being on of Us. We win when he makes fun of my other lovers. Now darling, you're Family.

lah lah lah lah lah lah

I reach for you and you're not there. You're here instead, in my mind like smoke. I can taste you all on my tongue any minute of my day, it's called love. We're the next generation of the sweetest damned. Internet attached and never far away though distance lies. Tab A, Slot B, ports connecting patches of the body thoughts. I'm new at this but my confidence carries. It's still alright. Everything's grand, though sad. I can live with enough. My bed at night is cold, lonely without you. I know worse now that I'm under a cover with weight. How many times can I say goodbye at an airport without breaking?

Bottled far away passion attraction, till death do us part but I'm dying. Time without and together and it's all the same really, but I can feel something feeding inside me. Live with enough enough enough it's always just enough and it's bare scraping bones against wind, sharpening them until the day when there may be nothing left. Starvation sickness. It's the only thing I'm scared of here. Survival is I shut the door on your turned back, watch you walk away, and you as well, and again and no matter how many times it happens, it's never easier and something crumples into madness for just a split second and it hurts. Hard to let you leave. Wrong to keep you in person. Oh it hurts and it's pain, but it's enough. I can live with only and just enough.

Facetime forgetfulness, what will we do when you get here? Down to L.A. sometime this winter. A week of playful out of boundary too heavy air full of metal tasting chemicals, oh darling, this gift you give me, it's ready now and waiting. The oven's been warmed for your precious head. The dock, the sand, the water, it will be more than I could ask. I'll have you drop me off in the wicked city. Something in me loves flying. That we can be bored while hung thousands of feet above our unconquered earth is glorious. Stretch legs and click the buckle. Humming engine ennui for you.

I'm waiting for my landlord to arrive. Collect the money in my careful envelope.

It's all in my head, but I live there.