Five fragments after midnight
Apr. 13th, 2013 12:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3Glasgow city centre is full of pubs that are ghosts of the buildings they used to be... "The Counting House" in an old bank. "The Auctioneers" in a one time auction room. Some of them, I was in when they still had their original purpose. 22 years ago I signed a mortgage in the place I drank Jack Daniels tonight.
Happiness is hard to hide when you're with a friend who is sad, and seeing your happiness hurt him is not a good note to end a night out on. The wheel will turn, god knows, it's turned already this year, but I do want to see him happy.
Sometimes, sometimes, I want to throw my weight hard against the pinball table, cross the line between too much body English and causing a Tilt. Sometimes. Maybe now.
I worry that my body is falling apart, that the thousand little ills of ageing will gang up on me together and the indestructibility I've taken for granted will fade faster than Kal El's strength under a red sun. And sometimes I forget that a forgotten umbrella is just a forgotten umbrella.
The dance, the dance goes on. And although I miss the faces of my lost partners, carried away by a turn of the pavane or the chop of jive talking, that does not mean that the music will ever end.
Happiness is hard to hide when you're with a friend who is sad, and seeing your happiness hurt him is not a good note to end a night out on. The wheel will turn, god knows, it's turned already this year, but I do want to see him happy.
Sometimes, sometimes, I want to throw my weight hard against the pinball table, cross the line between too much body English and causing a Tilt. Sometimes. Maybe now.
I worry that my body is falling apart, that the thousand little ills of ageing will gang up on me together and the indestructibility I've taken for granted will fade faster than Kal El's strength under a red sun. And sometimes I forget that a forgotten umbrella is just a forgotten umbrella.
The dance, the dance goes on. And although I miss the faces of my lost partners, carried away by a turn of the pavane or the chop of jive talking, that does not mean that the music will ever end.
