counterparts

In the morning he wakes, lets out the dog, answers his mail. I sleep late, reluctant to emerge, set the teapot boiling. He never drinks hot drinks, has Coke for breakfast. I open the drapes, sunlight streaming across the floors. He closes them again to watch tv.

He would fill his day with people and conversation. I would lock the doors, open the library bag, crank up the tunes. He's not so much a fan; he can't hear the music without doing the math, critiquing. But he plays, and I write, and we are together, and we are the same.

I *so* need these earrings.

Steph, go to Michaels or AC Moore and buy earring hooks. Take typing paper, cut it to twice the size of the pages you need, fold in half and staple, so you have a book. Use ivory stationery if you prefer, and scissors that cut a deckle edge. Cut a piece of shirt cardboard slightly larger than your pages. Back the cardboard with pretty giftwrap, using spray adhesive, fold and attach the cardboard to your pages with either hot glue or fabric craft glue. Bingo!

If you don't want to bother, promise me you won't buy those and I'll make you a pair.

Okay, now that I've gone back and actually read the text rather than just glimpsing the item, I see that they're a fundraiser for a very worthy cause. Forget what I said--buy them! Buy a couple of sets! I may buy a pair myself.

I see that they're a fundraiser for a very worthy cause. Forget what I said--buy them! Buy a couple of sets! I may buy a pair myself.

Yeah, I'd try to make them (maybe), but the fact that these particular ones go toward getting kids books of their own is a plus for me.

Going to post a between drabbles song lyric. It's brand new, needs some work, so I'm open to input. Mostly I want to know how it scans for you. And it's <gasp> a pop song. So.

cop sunglasses

your smile is just like cop sunglasses, yes that is
what your smile is just like, cop sunglasses, yes
your smile is just like cop sunglasses, yes, that is
what your smile is just like

i know i'm in for trouble
when i see that smile start to bubble
up i go ahead and blow the hatches
out i float the tanks 'cause that smile is matchless

yes, your smile is just like cop sunglasses, yes, that is
what your smile is just like, it's like cop sunglasses
your smile is just like cop sunglasses, yes, that is
what your smile is just like

you lay it out like ammunition
when things get cagey or your reputation's
down on the line then you sound the alarm and it clicks
in place on your face like you flicked a switch

yes, your smile is just like cop sunglasses, that is
what your smile is just like, cop sunglasses yes
your smile is just like cop sunglasses, yes, that is
what your smile is just like

New topic? Monday? I didn't see it listed in the livejournal community pages.

I don't know...we seem to have switched to Tuesday.

Sorry! We haven't switched to Tuesday; I've just gotten into a bad habit of slacking.

Challenge #44 (opposites) is closed.

Challenge #45 takes its lead from the holiday; the topic is heart. In any sense that you choose.

god, hearts

The tech all but snarls. "You know, we could be running this test on someone who's really sick."

Follow-up tech. "Boy, your results came back beautiful! I hope my heart looks that good when I'm your age."

Fill-in doctor. "But you're too young to have heart problems. Are you sure it's not indigestion?"

ER doctor. "A lot of time panic attacks feel like heart attacks. Just sit here for a few minutes and try to relax."

Cardiologist. "I'm going to bet you've lost a parent fairly young to heart problems, right? Genetics suck, don't they? If we can't fix this any other way, we might need to go for a pacemaker."

At least now it's being treated.

(hopefully someone has happy heart stories)

6 September 1994

What did you feel?

You'd have been under, of course; heart surgery is still the cracking open of the fragile shell that contains the core, still the splitting of the envelope, still the hinterland between life and death, where risk and infection and the beckoning light on the other side lay in waiting.

What did you feel?

Was there a moment, something penetrating the fog of unconsciousness, panic, a slipping through of voices, we're losing him clear damn it clear no good and then that damned light?

What did you feel? And for a moment - did you remember me?