It's cold in here there's no one left...
...And I wait for you
And nothing stops it happening
And I knew I'd cherish all my misery alone...
I haven't written in here for a while because a) depression is dull after a while and b) I was busy drifting through my days as if they were blank despite anything that happened in them. This I have come to realise is grossly unfair to all the monsters and keechers who have been extremely patient and meekle with me even while I've been being the apocalypse in their living room.
So....
Late Tuesday night I went with Blade to Manchester to visit Marik and wish him a happy birthday. We spent the evening playing with fire clubs, cigarettes and bubble machines (sometimes all at the same time). Then I chronicled the evening's happenings into lyrically bad poetry before crashing.
Wednesday had all of us stomping around a vast indoor market packed to the ceiling with strange gothic/alternative things. I bought a silver raven skull pendant with a poison compartment - a morbidly stylish little trinket to remind me of my assassin days. Wednesday evening Blade and I left Manchester and the denizens therein in a cloud of cigarette smoke accompanied by the swish of trench coats, the scent of black coffee and the sound of the two of us making acidic comments at the world in general.
Thursday I went to Egham to visit Mad Cat and Tom, neither of whom I had seen for bloody ages. In the evening we all went to House of Plot to watch the full version of LotR and be fed supper by Adrian. I never actually watched LotR; instead I talked to Simon who was visiting and to Charlotte also and then I went off my narrow (and somewhat illusory) path of sanity and played with blades in the garden. Charlotte and Mad Cat patched me up (lucky them)....
...And then I can't remember what happened for a while, I just remember that eventually with a blithe lie of 'I'm only having a fag' I returned to the end of the garden and proceeded to hunt for my jugular with a scalpel. Some time later I still hadn't found it nor any other piece of anatomy that promised copious blood loss. Being mildly hysterical and sodding cold having crouched in the rain for the past half hour, I decided to stagger back to the house. My plan was then to stand dripping over the sink and on the verge of unconsciousness until someone noticed and did something about it because I didn't have the ability and couldn't cope with the guilt of ruining the carpet. Mad Cat and Charlotte once more did the honours before finally allowing a shaking and extremely sorry-for-everything Witch to pass out in a pile of duvet.
I was meant to work on Friday but there was no way that was gonna happen. I spent the day still curled up in duvet feeling rough and wishing I could sleep properly. In the evening there was a Mage downtime game which I thought I'd be kicked out for. Instead I got offered the part of playing a wasted groupie hedge mage, publicist of Freya's death-metal-rock band and ad hoc *cough-companion-cough* to Kevin. Since this meant I could continue to lie in a corner being incoherent, I accepted. I drank wine, mead and absinthe and ate much pixie crack. (My character on the other hand did all that inbetween smoking a joint, taking opium, speed, and pseudo crack.) After all this she took 'magic' crack which Awakened her: she became a true mage and well and truly out of her little head. After the game I talked to some keechers and ended up going to bed at almost six.
On Saturday Ben arrived in Egham wondering where the hell I was and what I'd been doing all this time since he's barely seen me all week... So passed another day in the House of Plot with take away food, Buffy season 7, random company, Halo and sofas.
Now it's Sunday and I'm still here, still sorry, still stupid, still tired, still depressed, still can't find my scalpel and still pissed off at the whole thing...
And nothing stops it happening
And I knew I'd cherish all my misery alone...
I haven't written in here for a while because a) depression is dull after a while and b) I was busy drifting through my days as if they were blank despite anything that happened in them. This I have come to realise is grossly unfair to all the monsters and keechers who have been extremely patient and meekle with me even while I've been being the apocalypse in their living room.
So....
Late Tuesday night I went with Blade to Manchester to visit Marik and wish him a happy birthday. We spent the evening playing with fire clubs, cigarettes and bubble machines (sometimes all at the same time). Then I chronicled the evening's happenings into lyrically bad poetry before crashing.
Wednesday had all of us stomping around a vast indoor market packed to the ceiling with strange gothic/alternative things. I bought a silver raven skull pendant with a poison compartment - a morbidly stylish little trinket to remind me of my assassin days. Wednesday evening Blade and I left Manchester and the denizens therein in a cloud of cigarette smoke accompanied by the swish of trench coats, the scent of black coffee and the sound of the two of us making acidic comments at the world in general.
Thursday I went to Egham to visit Mad Cat and Tom, neither of whom I had seen for bloody ages. In the evening we all went to House of Plot to watch the full version of LotR and be fed supper by Adrian. I never actually watched LotR; instead I talked to Simon who was visiting and to Charlotte also and then I went off my narrow (and somewhat illusory) path of sanity and played with blades in the garden. Charlotte and Mad Cat patched me up (lucky them)....
...And then I can't remember what happened for a while, I just remember that eventually with a blithe lie of 'I'm only having a fag' I returned to the end of the garden and proceeded to hunt for my jugular with a scalpel. Some time later I still hadn't found it nor any other piece of anatomy that promised copious blood loss. Being mildly hysterical and sodding cold having crouched in the rain for the past half hour, I decided to stagger back to the house. My plan was then to stand dripping over the sink and on the verge of unconsciousness until someone noticed and did something about it because I didn't have the ability and couldn't cope with the guilt of ruining the carpet. Mad Cat and Charlotte once more did the honours before finally allowing a shaking and extremely sorry-for-everything Witch to pass out in a pile of duvet.
I was meant to work on Friday but there was no way that was gonna happen. I spent the day still curled up in duvet feeling rough and wishing I could sleep properly. In the evening there was a Mage downtime game which I thought I'd be kicked out for. Instead I got offered the part of playing a wasted groupie hedge mage, publicist of Freya's death-metal-rock band and ad hoc *cough-companion-cough* to Kevin. Since this meant I could continue to lie in a corner being incoherent, I accepted. I drank wine, mead and absinthe and ate much pixie crack. (My character on the other hand did all that inbetween smoking a joint, taking opium, speed, and pseudo crack.) After all this she took 'magic' crack which Awakened her: she became a true mage and well and truly out of her little head. After the game I talked to some keechers and ended up going to bed at almost six.
On Saturday Ben arrived in Egham wondering where the hell I was and what I'd been doing all this time since he's barely seen me all week... So passed another day in the House of Plot with take away food, Buffy season 7, random company, Halo and sofas.
Now it's Sunday and I'm still here, still sorry, still stupid, still tired, still depressed, still can't find my scalpel and still pissed off at the whole thing...