one or two or nine of my favourite things (any reason why favourite things can’t take up more than one space?) in coming home is the complete silence-not-silence. The rumble-gurgle of the fridge, the sleepy cheaps of a 42gram wonderbirdie. The quite of sunbeams and people walking overhead.
I am as fond of loud, cacaponous explosions of joy and synthesizers as i am of this.
In grand tradition i forgot one of my xmas gifties at mamas and papas, i suspect, on the night stand. Alas. It will meet up with me later, when the moon is full and the dogs are howling. It’s a ring, and it’s all big and modern and crazy and awesome.
there were flowers for fascinators purchased, all dusty victorian travel-back-in-time because they’re autumn, all fall leaves and forget-me-knots, and I adore them.
and I’m excited to make them and build and see what secrets they tell to strangers in run-down drinking bars at 3am.
Hrm, this is what happens when you’re romantigoth at heart.
I spent a lot of time thinking about Ellis, Underground. I think Ellis needs a wandering-adventure-companion, and I decided I’d like that to be Theo, previously from “Failing the Rorschach Test” and other stories. Theo-not-Theo. Same vein anyway, some rivethead/cybergoth mashup with a penchant for kevlar. I figure it’s rough out there in Umbrella, better take back up.