I miss my ghost

[foxtongue]

Mummy, where do all the bikes come from?
Originally uploaded by Cilest.

My monthly bus-pass ran out yesterday, so I mostly got home on the back of a strangers bike. I'd never ridden on the back of a bike before. It was fun, though it feels precarious. Stopping was an adventure.

"I'm going a long way still, mind if I catch a bit of a lift?" When he'd stopped at the light next to me, I saw he had foot-pegs on his back tires. He grinned when I asked, pleased to get such an oddball request. He gave me a ride to Main Street. I told him children's stories for my fare, "and then the prince took out his cleaning supplies and began to scrub away the ashes", leaning over his back in my long inappropriate coat and top-hat, my hands slipping a bit on his jacket. He pedaled away laughing.

It only occurred to me about a block later that we didn't exchange names. Sometimes, I am too stupid to be brilliant. That's two strangers in a row who're probably going to be telling stories of That Weird Girl They Met. (I hope I get my book back. He said it would take him a week to read.)

Fredo Viola has new video up.

Public Domain Film Torrents.

Marimba Ponies. thanks Cherie, happy wedding.)

Comments

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

and now collected a brilliant vintage photograph of the local lunatic asylum. Score.

[silver-notebook.livejournal.com]

Oooo, old loony bins can be strange places. I visited a friend who was living in one for a little while. It was quite tiny compared to that photo: little more than a large house; and had a white tiles basement with red-brown stained smeared across the walls with stray iron rings at eye level. Everything you said almost echoed and my head was filled with images of dirty, straight-jackets and high power hoses to keep everyone under some kind of control, superseded by images of some S&M photo-shoot you might find in LJ.

[porphyre.livejournal.com]

That reminds me of a series of books I read about a decade back that surrounded an asylum on the hill. Each story had an object in it of importance, one a doll, another one of those old electrical tubs. I think it's the idea of tile walls and tubs that sparked it. Now I'm going to be wracking my mind at innapropriate moments to try and remember what they were.

As well, that sounds like somewhere neat to live.