Azakuchin cha-cha
Sep. 3rd, 2002 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
incandescensI really hope it rains tonight, after I left the garden untouched given the state of the sky. I'm going to be extremely annoyed if it doesn't.
The _Tristan et Yseult_ CD was a mild disappointment: a couple of good songs, but generally undistinguished. Still, pleasant enough background music for while doing other stuff.
Oh yes, with reference to the current Sluggy Freelance storyline (http://www.sluggy.com/) . . .
---
It was true that when my great-grandfather had attended Hoggewartse, he had chosen to say little about his courses of study, his schoolmates, or his dominies. He had always refused to explain the hideous scars which ornamented his torso and forearms, and his penchant for running downstairs at midnight, screaming, "The potion! Slytherin! The potion!" was, or so my mother assured me, a mere eccentricity, understandable and pardonable in any English gentleman.
That night, as I lay shivering in my bed, listening to the wind howl through the healthily open window and to the tinkling of the ice forming in the ewer of water upon my desk, I pondered upon that hereditary taint which curses all members of the de la Poiterre family. Could it be that I, too, would be forced to undergo that trial, that ordeal, that horror? Would future generations of my line make their way through those hideous portals?
The _Tristan et Yseult_ CD was a mild disappointment: a couple of good songs, but generally undistinguished. Still, pleasant enough background music for while doing other stuff.
Oh yes, with reference to the current Sluggy Freelance storyline (http://www.sluggy.com/) . . .
---
It was true that when my great-grandfather had attended Hoggewartse, he had chosen to say little about his courses of study, his schoolmates, or his dominies. He had always refused to explain the hideous scars which ornamented his torso and forearms, and his penchant for running downstairs at midnight, screaming, "The potion! Slytherin! The potion!" was, or so my mother assured me, a mere eccentricity, understandable and pardonable in any English gentleman.
That night, as I lay shivering in my bed, listening to the wind howl through the healthily open window and to the tinkling of the ice forming in the ewer of water upon my desk, I pondered upon that hereditary taint which curses all members of the de la Poiterre family. Could it be that I, too, would be forced to undergo that trial, that ordeal, that horror? Would future generations of my line make their way through those hideous portals?
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Date: 2002-09-03 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-09-03 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2002-09-04 04:15 pm (UTC)(currently thinking about spiders and dry rivers)
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Date: 2002-09-04 04:33 pm (UTC)