This is the second to last thing I wrote before I stopped. I was trying to start a transitional phase I think, and I just wasn't quite there yet. Maybe i'll give it another shot. Maybe that shot will fire tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Certainly there shall be a fatality. Certainly ghosts will fall...
To stalk consequence back through a sequence of events is to make each future step an act of torture. Lola tried to avoid this line of thought. Battling with weapons of clich (and ultimately truth); "those who look back while moving forwards readily bang their heads". All well and good, but when you feel like utter crap, milling over the disasterous past is less intimidating than thinking about the potentially-disasterous future. Audiable sigh. Life is a fuck-face.
Her name wasn't even Lola. She just referred to herself as such to facilitate fantasies. Lola looked infinately more chic in a silk scarf and vintage car than Amy Phillips could dream of.
This sudden bout of melancholy was bought on by Amy's discovery that bad things happen to dreamers. Since she was being so childish and indignant, she began to think of how the adult hour lasted a full-day to the young. "Are we nearly there?" - "Not yet darling, just another hour to go". The reason that an hour seems a day seems a year and beyond to a child is found in this simple fact - the future is not now.
Impatience is the virtue of the restless. The reason that certain people have full and ever-evolving lives. It also leaves it's prodigy susceptible to hopelessness and feelings of stagnation.
It was this stage of the cycle that had Amy gripped by the hair. She'd seen it before and knew instinctively that change was the only cure for her condition. Unfortunately however, having impatience as a defining characteristic does not eliminate the mandatory need to wait; it just makes the queuing more unbearable.
Amy was currently in one of those queues that you join purely to find out what's at the other end. What is so worthwhile that it warrants all these people creating physical order in a state of mental chaos? You always join the queue - it's in your nature. It could be something amazing, like your favourite musician doing an inpromptu performance in a tiny cafe. More often than not it ends up being the bra-less bit of skirt from that gardening programme signing her latest book "Sex in the Shrubbery" or something to that effect. Evidently Amy had been in such a queue one-time-too-many, but being of the disposition to dream, she still held out for Ian Curtis re-animated on a stool in a deliciously warm scarf.
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To stalk consequence back through a sequence of events is to make each future step an act of torture. Lola tried to avoid this line of thought. Battling with weapons of clich (and ultimately truth); "those who look back while moving forwards readily bang their heads". All well and good, but when you feel like utter crap, milling over the disasterous past is less intimidating than thinking about the potentially-disasterous future. Audiable sigh. Life is a fuck-face.
Her name wasn't even Lola. She just referred to herself as such to facilitate fantasies. Lola looked infinately more chic in a silk scarf and vintage car than Amy Phillips could dream of.
This sudden bout of melancholy was bought on by Amy's discovery that bad things happen to dreamers. Since she was being so childish and indignant, she began to think of how the adult hour lasted a full-day to the young. "Are we nearly there?" - "Not yet darling, just another hour to go". The reason that an hour seems a day seems a year and beyond to a child is found in this simple fact - the future is not now.
Impatience is the virtue of the restless. The reason that certain people have full and ever-evolving lives. It also leaves it's prodigy susceptible to hopelessness and feelings of stagnation.
It was this stage of the cycle that had Amy gripped by the hair. She'd seen it before and knew instinctively that change was the only cure for her condition. Unfortunately however, having impatience as a defining characteristic does not eliminate the mandatory need to wait; it just makes the queuing more unbearable.
Amy was currently in one of those queues that you join purely to find out what's at the other end. What is so worthwhile that it warrants all these people creating physical order in a state of mental chaos? You always join the queue - it's in your nature. It could be something amazing, like your favourite musician doing an inpromptu performance in a tiny cafe. More often than not it ends up being the bra-less bit of skirt from that gardening programme signing her latest book "Sex in the Shrubbery" or something to that effect. Evidently Amy had been in such a queue one-time-too-many, but being of the disposition to dream, she still held out for Ian Curtis re-animated on a stool in a deliciously warm scarf.
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shayne:
Thanks for the sweet comment on my new set 
leola:
I should be there on the 12th, if all goes to plan. Wooo! 