All is violent, all is bright.
Let me tell you about the new house. I don't think I've mentioned it properly yet.
There's three rooms upstairs. I have one, Harriet has one and there's something ancient in the third. It's resting at the moment but don't let that fool you. When it wakes, it'll want out. It burned the hinges off the door, the whole thing is just hanging there at the moment. Locks break, salt lines get blown away by a silent wind and wards drawn in blood on the walls boil and evaporate away.
The livingroom is pretty big, but we've got the sofas set up to form a smaller Living Room Space seperate from the Corridor To The Kitchen That Just Happens To Have No Actual Walls. We're using an HD monitor in place of a TV, with the Xbox or Blu-Ray player plugged into it. I'd like to save up for some fucking massive TV with more than one HDMI slot, so I don't have to fiddle with the cables every time I want to switch between the two. Unfortunately I'm also going through one of those stages where I'm looking at clothes online and thinking maybe I could do with more clothes. And there's still a whole bunch of DVDs or Blu ray to buy (Kick Ass should arrive in a few days. Robin Hood and Whip It are sitting in my amazon basket waiting for my deposit from the last house to return). Everything costs so much money. NOTE TO SELF: You really don't need any more clothes, bitch, except maybe some legwear that isn't either a) jeans b) falling apart or c) both. Also stop looking at coats because you don't like wearing them and even if you did, none of them will actually make you look like Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock.
The spiders know all the hidden places. They whisper their secrets constantly, but to learn which are true and which are rumour costs more than I'm willing to pay. The ceilings are theirs. A vast underground of spies and smugglers over our heads. Any that come down to our level are prey for the Hellequin. I don't think Harriet's a big fan of spiders but I've no problem with them, so as long as they're not in the bath or my bed they can stay. There do seem to be rather a lot of them, though.
The garden should be pretty sweet for barbecues. It's lovely weather for them at the moment and I've got a week's holiday off work coming up, so maybe some time then? I've got to spend the weekend sorting out the garden at the old house. Ben's parents have cleaned the hell out of the place and I feel bad about the state I left it in, but it's understandable that they didn't venture out back, since the place is so overgrown. The last time someone went out there he disappeared and six days later they found his bones arranged in a circle outside the cathedral grounds.
There are four mirrors in the bathroom and one of them only relects in shades of grey. They adorn the doors to the two cupboards, one mine, one Harriets. I feel a little bad about that because I have so little bathroom stuff. The hair- and nail clippers get used, sure, but the comb and the suntan lotion are really for display purposes only. I have no creams or oils or unguents, no potions, pads or powders to store. There's no shower yet, but once a plumber hears our summons we're gonna pull out the bath and put a shower unit in instead, with a new boiler and maybe a towel rack in the leftover space.
--
Edit: You know how there are some things that you do when you're young and stupid and you regret them. Silly little things that don't matter but you feel ashamed of them.
Back when the internet was young I left a comment on a website I frequent and for a long long while hated that I couldn't delete it. I said the sort of stuff that these days we would expect of thirteen year olds commenting on youtube videos, except I guess I would have been seventeen at the time and should have known better. Now this isn't some forum where things get buried. This comment will have been seen by a lot of people. I'm not talking famous or anything, I just mean regular traffic for the last seven years. So earlier this year I tracked down that post and wrote and apology for it, and tonight I see that someone has responded favourably to the apology.
I feel cleansed. Exonerated. Unburdened? No, that's not it. What's the word I'm looking for? Thesaurus will know, he's such a clever dinosaur! Absolved. That's probably the one. But while I'm here, it should be noted that Exculpated should have been used instead of Exonerated, and disburdened not unburdened.
There's three rooms upstairs. I have one, Harriet has one and there's something ancient in the third. It's resting at the moment but don't let that fool you. When it wakes, it'll want out. It burned the hinges off the door, the whole thing is just hanging there at the moment. Locks break, salt lines get blown away by a silent wind and wards drawn in blood on the walls boil and evaporate away.
The livingroom is pretty big, but we've got the sofas set up to form a smaller Living Room Space seperate from the Corridor To The Kitchen That Just Happens To Have No Actual Walls. We're using an HD monitor in place of a TV, with the Xbox or Blu-Ray player plugged into it. I'd like to save up for some fucking massive TV with more than one HDMI slot, so I don't have to fiddle with the cables every time I want to switch between the two. Unfortunately I'm also going through one of those stages where I'm looking at clothes online and thinking maybe I could do with more clothes. And there's still a whole bunch of DVDs or Blu ray to buy (Kick Ass should arrive in a few days. Robin Hood and Whip It are sitting in my amazon basket waiting for my deposit from the last house to return). Everything costs so much money. NOTE TO SELF: You really don't need any more clothes, bitch, except maybe some legwear that isn't either a) jeans b) falling apart or c) both. Also stop looking at coats because you don't like wearing them and even if you did, none of them will actually make you look like Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock.
The spiders know all the hidden places. They whisper their secrets constantly, but to learn which are true and which are rumour costs more than I'm willing to pay. The ceilings are theirs. A vast underground of spies and smugglers over our heads. Any that come down to our level are prey for the Hellequin. I don't think Harriet's a big fan of spiders but I've no problem with them, so as long as they're not in the bath or my bed they can stay. There do seem to be rather a lot of them, though.
The garden should be pretty sweet for barbecues. It's lovely weather for them at the moment and I've got a week's holiday off work coming up, so maybe some time then? I've got to spend the weekend sorting out the garden at the old house. Ben's parents have cleaned the hell out of the place and I feel bad about the state I left it in, but it's understandable that they didn't venture out back, since the place is so overgrown. The last time someone went out there he disappeared and six days later they found his bones arranged in a circle outside the cathedral grounds.
There are four mirrors in the bathroom and one of them only relects in shades of grey. They adorn the doors to the two cupboards, one mine, one Harriets. I feel a little bad about that because I have so little bathroom stuff. The hair- and nail clippers get used, sure, but the comb and the suntan lotion are really for display purposes only. I have no creams or oils or unguents, no potions, pads or powders to store. There's no shower yet, but once a plumber hears our summons we're gonna pull out the bath and put a shower unit in instead, with a new boiler and maybe a towel rack in the leftover space.
--
Edit: You know how there are some things that you do when you're young and stupid and you regret them. Silly little things that don't matter but you feel ashamed of them.
Back when the internet was young I left a comment on a website I frequent and for a long long while hated that I couldn't delete it. I said the sort of stuff that these days we would expect of thirteen year olds commenting on youtube videos, except I guess I would have been seventeen at the time and should have known better. Now this isn't some forum where things get buried. This comment will have been seen by a lot of people. I'm not talking famous or anything, I just mean regular traffic for the last seven years. So earlier this year I tracked down that post and wrote and apology for it, and tonight I see that someone has responded favourably to the apology.
I feel cleansed. Exonerated. Unburdened? No, that's not it. What's the word I'm looking for? Thesaurus will know, he's such a clever dinosaur! Absolved. That's probably the one. But while I'm here, it should be noted that Exculpated should have been used instead of Exonerated, and disburdened not unburdened.