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raven"Today, the worthy inhabitants of the north of England were subjected to a horrific re-enactment of September 11th when three Asian individuals, a pair of brothers and a girl, crashed into the base of Blackpool Tower in an elderly white Fiat Uno. No-one was hurt, but the three perpetrators themselves were immediately apprehended and subjected to an hour and a half of Blackpool's seedier attractions, before being condemned to ride home down dark motorways homebound in their significantly dented vehicle."
That was my day, how was yours?
I haven't had the internet for a while. I kept my journal here.
Summer days, riding along winding farm roads in an old banged-up car with two guys I used to know, listening to REM and enjoying the sun for once, and my afternoon seemed to be dreamlike, as everything happened slowly, especially the goodbyes.
Having no internet does have a drastic effect on me. It makes me feel alone and completely by myself. I miss Em, especially now, when it's late. She's supposed to be there, godammit; an old friend in the corner of the screen. I want her here, I want my livejournal, I want my inbox, I want fanfiction, I want WinMX. I want half my life. Doesn't everyone divide their lives like that? Half is RL, half is online, half is intangible dreams and the other half is cold reality, and I know where I want to be at a quarter to two in the morning. Asleep with my dreams in bed, or awake with my dreams in the far blue nowhere.
I think tomorrow will be a good day. I get to meet someone new - a girl named Hannah. She wants to meet me, because Em and Clare talk about me as their constantly missing third wheel, and she wants to meet the mysterious girl. I get to put some of my stories onto Paradise Lost tomorrow; and see the new link from Heliopolis, which I'm very happy about.
I'm home, on phone to BT, as always, as always, have been on fucking phone to BT for three hours, as always, have been shuttled between four different departments, yelled at, ignored, hung up on, am no closer to fixing problem, am paranoid will never go on internet again, yuk-yuk, hate BT, hate phone, want to go home but am already there.
Have dogtags. Bought them from Woodstock avec Em and Hannah. Hannah is v. rocksome. Love her already. Prometheus was liked but disturbing.
That was my day, how was yours?
I haven't had the internet for a while. I kept my journal here.
Summer days, riding along winding farm roads in an old banged-up car with two guys I used to know, listening to REM and enjoying the sun for once, and my afternoon seemed to be dreamlike, as everything happened slowly, especially the goodbyes.
Having no internet does have a drastic effect on me. It makes me feel alone and completely by myself. I miss Em, especially now, when it's late. She's supposed to be there, godammit; an old friend in the corner of the screen. I want her here, I want my livejournal, I want my inbox, I want fanfiction, I want WinMX. I want half my life. Doesn't everyone divide their lives like that? Half is RL, half is online, half is intangible dreams and the other half is cold reality, and I know where I want to be at a quarter to two in the morning. Asleep with my dreams in bed, or awake with my dreams in the far blue nowhere.
I think tomorrow will be a good day. I get to meet someone new - a girl named Hannah. She wants to meet me, because Em and Clare talk about me as their constantly missing third wheel, and she wants to meet the mysterious girl. I get to put some of my stories onto Paradise Lost tomorrow; and see the new link from Heliopolis, which I'm very happy about.
I'm home, on phone to BT, as always, as always, have been on fucking phone to BT for three hours, as always, have been shuttled between four different departments, yelled at, ignored, hung up on, am no closer to fixing problem, am paranoid will never go on internet again, yuk-yuk, hate BT, hate phone, want to go home but am already there.
Have dogtags. Bought them from Woodstock avec Em and Hannah. Hannah is v. rocksome. Love her already. Prometheus was liked but disturbing.