"Don’t ask me that damn question asked one hundred times before
Don’t look at me like I don’t know it’s not eighteen eighty four
I’ll smoke my fuckin’ cigarette and smoke a bastard more...
I’m sixpence none the wiser
Don’t count the bottles empty at the cold foot of my bed
Don’t pretend I’m ignorant of what was meant or what was said
Don’t be surprised if magic-like the grey days turn to red...
I’m sixpence none the wiser
The only trick I can claim with years amounting thirty
Is no one else in all the world spent the time I’ve been as me
And no surprise, for I would not, had I a soul in lee...
I’m sixpence none the wiser - as any fool can see.
Sixpence none the wiser
The debt don’t seem like much
Sixpence none the wiser
I’d write it off as such
Sixpence none the wiser -
Damn.
Sixpence none the wiser...
An’ I’ve lost my Midas touch."
LBP by Raven.
Let's see. Friday night was rather glorious as I joined Blade and Ketchgirl for the first installment of the M7 drinking game. We played the Chris/Vin variant and got a perfect balance between near endless sips of whiskey and not actually getting plastered, which I think is the best of both worlds. Possibly one of my favourite moments was when a line was misheard as: "I'm a federal officer you son-of-a-bitch. You kill me, you'll have the whole Union Army going down on you..."
*snigger*
Saturday was quiet and mostly spent aiding Ketch acquire shiny things from ebay and descussion of the Zombie-Neuron-Protectorate. The eve was less fun as it contained a mood-crash of biblical proportion and me eating poppies. (No, that's not a euphemism, no nothing much happened, and no I didn't do anything more stupid.)
Today was writing story, watching films, doing chores and trying to regain equilibrium. (Yes, I know exactly what I require to stop me tripping off my straight and narrow path on a near-weekly basis. Yes some of it is attainable. Sadly more of it is down to the vagaries of fate, placing it currently beyond my control or shakey reach. Which not only sucks but chain-smokes a whole pack of donkeys in hell, thanks for asking.)
What else? I dunno. I seem to have acquired cigarettes, although I've no idea if the habit of lighting them will progress beyond this one packet or not. I've also still got an unseelie sidhe knight wishing to wear my colours (fuck knows why) which is kinda tricky since I'm chasing a dead man. I'm sure the whole thing would make a decent farce.
Ergh. I'm truly sick of the same old shit I can't seem to ditch. It's tiresome. Feh. Useful advice on becoming a consumptive waife, ghost-catching, and solving the more usual mundane and stupid rubbish gratefully received.
I’ll smoke my fuckin’ cigarette and smoke a bastard more...
I’m sixpence none the wiser
Don’t count the bottles empty at the cold foot of my bed
Don’t pretend I’m ignorant of what was meant or what was said
Don’t be surprised if magic-like the grey days turn to red...
I’m sixpence none the wiser
The only trick I can claim with years amounting thirty
Is no one else in all the world spent the time I’ve been as me
And no surprise, for I would not, had I a soul in lee...
I’m sixpence none the wiser - as any fool can see.
Sixpence none the wiser
The debt don’t seem like much
Sixpence none the wiser
I’d write it off as such
Sixpence none the wiser -
Damn.
Sixpence none the wiser...
An’ I’ve lost my Midas touch."
LBP by Raven.
Let's see. Friday night was rather glorious as I joined Blade and Ketchgirl for the first installment of the M7 drinking game. We played the Chris/Vin variant and got a perfect balance between near endless sips of whiskey and not actually getting plastered, which I think is the best of both worlds. Possibly one of my favourite moments was when a line was misheard as: "I'm a federal officer you son-of-a-bitch. You kill me, you'll have the whole Union Army going down on you..."
*snigger*
Saturday was quiet and mostly spent aiding Ketch acquire shiny things from ebay and descussion of the Zombie-Neuron-Protectorate. The eve was less fun as it contained a mood-crash of biblical proportion and me eating poppies. (No, that's not a euphemism, no nothing much happened, and no I didn't do anything more stupid.)
Today was writing story, watching films, doing chores and trying to regain equilibrium. (Yes, I know exactly what I require to stop me tripping off my straight and narrow path on a near-weekly basis. Yes some of it is attainable. Sadly more of it is down to the vagaries of fate, placing it currently beyond my control or shakey reach. Which not only sucks but chain-smokes a whole pack of donkeys in hell, thanks for asking.)
What else? I dunno. I seem to have acquired cigarettes, although I've no idea if the habit of lighting them will progress beyond this one packet or not. I've also still got an unseelie sidhe knight wishing to wear my colours (fuck knows why) which is kinda tricky since I'm chasing a dead man. I'm sure the whole thing would make a decent farce.
Ergh. I'm truly sick of the same old shit I can't seem to ditch. It's tiresome. Feh. Useful advice on becoming a consumptive waife, ghost-catching, and solving the more usual mundane and stupid rubbish gratefully received.