The Grim

It's funny how things can change in that split time inbetween two seconds. Just so sunny. And now grim, with that human warcraft roleplay lot splicing the field open with black rags and axes. And there was a lot of positivity about the Hemingway essay (the next hurdle), but now dim grimness. The first line must attain assertive originality balanced with simple constraint, and be completely astounding in its poignancy. She can't find it. So we have stalled at the first 12 words of the title. I think she's finally realised that Colombia is in almost 10 days, and excitement and concentration are not too good at cohabitation. De dum de dum de dum.

She wants another Lost Friday, and I agree. Being imaginary, stalking handsome raving men is pretty easy and lots of fun. We danced in silly ways and couldn't give two shits, we drank cider and built up our immunity to the dreaded apple-y ache and drag, we forgot about important things in one sense and focussed on important things in another. It was the best.

Tonight is another night out, but of a different sort and kind of pivotal if it all goes to plan for her. I hope it does, however much I take the piss. I basically want the reflected glory. Refracted glory actually; I reckon my imaginary constitution makes me more nebula-based than flat surface mirror-based.

Consette x