timeoftheeclipse

so, yeah, um, ok
last night
was sooo punk rock i wanna puke
first
texas, your band wails.. count me highly impressed
sorry i didnt get to meet you
and i guess it was nice to meet jil, wynne and sophie,
but i cant really say i met them
there was an awkward introduction and then my job called me and i had to take it, so when i got back everyone had vanished
kinda sucked
so then im hanging out and notice everyone filing past me to leave
and thank you sophie for at least saying bye
ok, so im shy, and im really really bad at meeting new people (see above)
i never know what to say and when im sitting there with three absolute hotties looking at me, i get all flustered

it was cool, but at the same time it was kinda lame
i have to say
if all future sgkc gatherings are like that, you can count me out...
maybe a more low key setting is whats needed
but thats jsut me
too low key for my own good

twas good to be back ant the el torreon tho
i havent been there since the blood brothers show a while back
man, that place has changed so much since i first went there, when the stage was in the other room, infront of the big ass garage doors
its weird seeing it so small now
i felt like such an old man in there
all these little alterna punk kids, looked jsut like me when i was younger
kinda made me miss it
but at the same time made me glad to have kind of moved past it
guess im just not a scene kid
im an adult, too fucking busy to have fn anymore
too responsible to keep my dredlocks
to corporate to wear safety pins

but i am just me

i dont wanna be who i used to be
i dont wanna be who im not
if you dont like me cuz i stroll in wearing a jacket from old navy
with short hair and not looking 'punk' or 'goth' or whatever
then thats your loss


oh well, thats my rambling for the day

and btw

im goign to keep stephanie's story on all my posts for a while
it means a lot to me

be well
-m







post script: here is the story by my love

"candy"

She took us inside because she wanted him. I couldnt stop myself from seeing how she looked at him, how her eyes pawed at his prefect body, tasted his beautiful lips. I saw my own wanting reflected in those glowing black eyes.
I was afraid to stay outside. Outside, was no place for a child. Despite all our posturing, thats what we were, children, even him. Even Micheal.
He wanted to protect me, needed me to be safe. Micheal was the one who first took me outside. Brushing the hair from my eyes and kissing the tip of my nose, and my cheeks, flushed red from the winter air.
He took my hand and led me away from the place I had thought was my home. He brought me to quiet places, where the only sound was the crunch of hard snow under our boots, where there was no angry men, no crying women.
Every time Micheal took me away, he led me farther from that loud place. We walked for miles, blisters forming, popping and bleeding in my too small shoes. Putting miles and miles between me and the dark places I had been. I would think about the distance, and silently pray that we would go far enough, that we would never be able to find our way back.
Micheal answered my prayer.
Where will we go? I asked him. We will go with each other, he answered. I took his hand, and we disappeared outside.
He tried to protect me, tried to keep me warm, tried to make me forget the noise, gathering me in to his arms at night, where ever it felt safe to sleep. Pressing his lips against mine, kissing me as though he was trying to help me breathe. I would fall asleep feeling his thumb and fore finger gently rub my ear.
But slowly the fear crept in, despite his whispered love songs and even stride. Each morning I woke up terrified that he would be gone, and I would be on my own, outside.
Now when we walked I was more tentative, clung to his hand tighter. He made his stride smaller, to stay beside me, walking close enough to me that we were always touching. He promised he wouldnt leave. I did my best to believe him, but the fear never left me.
We met her one night in a caf where the coffee was cheap and strong, and no one bothered the two young children who sat for hours over one cup.
Even then I could feel her watching him, all the way from across the poorly lit space. But he shone like that.
She sat down with us, astutely ignoring me. She told him he was beautiful, that she wanted to take his photo.
She didnt look like a witch. I sat and watched her speak to him, and remembered a quiet time before he came. When a soft woman with silver hair would tell me stories.
In her stories, there were witches who were disfigured, gnarled, old and withered. I couldnt remember any who appeared with long slim figures, deep black eyes flecked with silver, and hands that fluttered like moths when they spoke.
As I sat there, mute, stupefied, the fear gripped me completely. I gripped Micheals knee under the table, my finger nails digging in so deep he winced, and brushed my hand aside. I felt like dying, like leaving, like standing up and running in to the night as far and as fast as my aching legs could carry me.
But I stayed, because I couldnt be outside alone, I couldnt be without him.
She asked him to come and stay with her in her apartment; that he could bring me too. For the first time her eyes were on me, appraising me, my stomach churned.
The Witches house was clean, and dark and quiet. Each room smelled faintly of something delicious, raspberry tarts, chicken breast spiced with rosemary and sage, lemon candy, and truffles. She knew how hungry I was.
She gave us a room, with two soft clean beds, blankets the color of rich dark chocolate, and soft walls the texture of royal icing.
We waited until she left us, then pushed them together and made love sinking in to the soft mattresses and enveloped by down comforters. We fell asleep breathing hard, melting in to each other.
When I opened my eyes in the morning, Micheal was gone.
Weeping, I searched the entire apartment, needing him, my heart pounding out of my chest in panic. When they returned home, he found me curled on the floor, sobbing and shaking.
He took me in his arms, and told me he loved me. He sang softly while he rocked me in his arms. He kissed my face and stroked my hair, and made me breathe again.
When we emerged, the witch was at the dining room table, it was covered from end to end in orange soups, dark brown meats, and vibrant salads. She sat there, her perfect blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, chopping up lines with amazing precision.
My heart sank again as I watched him sit beside her. He beckoned me to join them. I looked in to his eyes, and saw for the first time that he was hungry, just like me.
I sat down across from them, because I was weak, because I wanted to hang on to him, because I didnt know how to refuse him anything.
I had my taste of candy, I took more and more and more, and never felt full.

B
He began disappearing with the Witch. They went outside, to her studio, where she would take her photos of him. I would stay in the apartment, out of the light, cleaning to keep my hands busy. I scrubbed until everything shone dark and perfect, my fingers cracking and bleeding, the chemicals stinging my nose, making me dizzy.
I worked so that when they came home, drunk and high, I claim exhaustion and hide under the blankets on our bed, so Micheal couldnt offer me any of her candy, so that I wouldnt have to say no to him.
The first night he didnt come to bed, I lay awake all night, listening to the sounds coming from the Witches room. Wishing, for the first time, that I could have the old noises back, the shouts and sobs preferable to what I heard now.
Sometimes she would bring the photos home. I would sneak out of our room at night, I still thought of it as ours, and gaze at them till my eyes bled.
I saw how she was stealing him, his soul; his perfect beauty. I saw how she tried to possess him, all of him, the way I once had.
He looked at me as though I was a stranger, his eyes clouded with her candy. It killed me each time he looked at me like that, but at the same time, I was grateful he could still see me.
Sometimes I would try to talk to him, to remind him of the old walks. I told him about the first time he kissed me, pressing my back against the giant oak tree, his mouth on mine, while his fingers searched for entrances to my clothing.
He would sit and stare through me then, perfect brow wrinkled, as though trying to recall something that never happened.
I started going to the glass doors of the building each day, to stare into the outside. Daring myself to escape, to go out in to the winter sunlight. I stayed a little longer each time I went, staring until blue spots danced in front of my eyes, but still that fear gripped me.
Then Micheal stopped leaving. The Witch would leave early in the morning, and he would stay in her room, curled at the foot of the bed like a dog, not moving, barely breathing. When she came home at night, we would eat together in stony silence; then she would go to him, and lock the door behind her.
Those nights, I would sit up, right beside that door, straining my ears, desperate to hear something but the awful silence which filled the sweet smelling apartment.
The silver haired woman used to tell me stories where witches could be beaten, where brave princes or beautiful girls could break enchantments and save their true loves. Her stories never said where they found their courage.
The Witch was killing him.
I needed to save him.
She left the apartment just after the sun came up, frost painted the windows, filtering the light.
I went to him, pulling him in to my arms, my breath hitting his face in hot frantic bursts. His eyes fluttered, opening as my lips pressed softly against them. I whispered in his ears, urging him back to life.
Micheal lay still in my arms for a very long time, gazing up at me, searching my face. I told him I was going to save him, save us. I told him I was going to take him away from her. I held him for hours, until my arms felt like they were part of him again.
He spoke to me, not in the strong voice he had used to urge me away in to the night, but with a timidity I had never heard before.
Where will we go? He asked. We will go together, I replied. His hand slept in to mine, and I led him out of the apartment.
She knew we would be coming, as witches often do. We found her waiting in the lobby, her gorgeousness blinding in the mid afternoon light.
Micheal stood rooted in one spot, I could feel him shaking, or perhaps that was me.
She asked where we were going. I told her we were leaving. She laughed at me then, silver peals edged with malice. She told me I was a weak silly girl, she told me I couldnt save him.
For the first time, I knew she was wrong.
All at once she was coming at me, or maybe I ran at her. I can remember the burst of heat that surged through me, as though all the weakness and fear had been sucked out of me in an instant.
My hands were on her perfect chest, the fabric of her sweater like kitten fur under my palms.
I pushed, her frame, so formidable before, easily giving way to my strength. I watched as she fell back.
The enchantment was broken with the sound of shattering crystal and a soul splitting scream.
The witch lay writhing on the hard concrete, broken and afraid.
I looked past her, seeing the world outside come folding in. I grinned, the muscles in my face painfully remembering how.
I felt his hand in mine as we stepped across the threshold, leaving the witch behind in her wretchedness.
As we walked, I made my stride smaller, to stay beside him, and walked close enough to him that we were always touching.