If you haven’t read “Galveston” by Sean Stewart, you should. RIGHT NOW!!
oh, alright fine, read it next month… OR WHATEVER. Just read it.
I find myself walking the streets of his Steward Beach, looking across his Bay and slowly drowing under wave after wave of selfish, gruelling magic. All while suffering the white, blank stare of Momus; a god without pity.
I’m a huge Nirvana fan and I just realised that out of the 1,398 songs I’ve played today, none of them have been Nirvana’s.
Why is this? Have I shed my grunge feathers and adopted the fluffy, unkempt wigs of Emoism?
Of course I haven’t. ~whine whine whine, cut myself~
So I now have 2 Nirvana songs in my roster.
Why just 2? Because it seems that you’re no longer allowed to freeplay any of their songs on Rhapsody and I’m a good girl, I am! So no theifing off of limewire (until I get more RAM) so, as of right now all the music on MyPod is totally legit. Too legit to quit.
Can you tell I’m loafing intstead of writing? I mean damn I even opened up a MySpace account.
Today is BB’s birthday, she turned 6…
I mean damnit! where did all the time go? Those brown eyes and that mischievious smile seem to have been with me always and yet not long enough.
When I think about her and her brother I feel like I’m grasping at the air. The time just slips through my fingers. It’s like I have only one chance only to make every kiss, caress, laugh, lesson, moment matter. And I waste too much of it on the computer, or sleeping, or working, or dealing…
Or whining.
Emoism raises it’s shaggy head again.
I wonder if my mother ever felt that way. As if she was dancing a line of desperation. Any moment now it might all be gone. No more getting up three and retucking in little feet, no more fretting over homework, no more making sure bathwater is just the right shade of ‘not TOO hot’, no more innane chatter.
Just the thought that time will steal them away, bit by little bit, inch by inch and grain by grain makes me impossibly sad. I can see the teenager my son will become, moody and intelligent with thick overtones of being a unsure dreamer. I can see the charming and flirty girl my daughter is going to become. I want to gather them to me and just hold on a little while longer… and because I know this is unhealthy I push them away and force them to do things on their own.
I am a sad and angry woman who wears her casual violence like a cloak of elven kind (hah!! take that Marcy Playground) but for my kids I am both iron clad and weak as tissue in a strong Gulf breeze.
Anyway.
Twentynine Thousand One hundred and Four.
Bet you were waiting for that …
a Clockwork Rabbit 