I haven’t had enough
Can’t ask me to say when
Can’t ask me to resist
Won’t come my way again
It’s not that I am helpless
Nor that I am compelled
But that I have no words for
A way I’ve never felt
a long guitar and harmonica talking instrumental break
When you feel like you’re past hope
Past any chance for redemption
Perhaps some satisfaction
That life would get my vote
Then love comes into view
Like an unexpected postcard
Saying everything is beautiful
And soon you will be home.
fiddle on the last four lines, harmonica drops out
yes this is a destiel filk, tune exceeding dangerously sappy C&W, and it’s going along with the fic I’m working on. I am so cheesed with myself; I don’t want to leave the house, and there’s been a letter to pOp sitting there on the kitchen table for the last day. Also I’m supposed to make like lady bountiful to Paul, holed up in his motel. Tea, and beans, and whatnot.
A ratrunner is someone who drives around too fast late at night. Because of the orientation of my bedroom window – faces west – I’m listening to the ratrunners on Kingsway. Sometimes it’s a Kawasaki or similar, blasting down the hill at what sounds, from the wound up noise, like they’re doing about a ton and a bit. There are lots of crosswalks and the roadway isn’t straight, and it’s just a terrible idea.
Anyway, they were out last night, and they are usually worse on weekends.
Despite it all, I practiced good sleep hygiene. Instead of playing on my computer or brO’s phone, I did my evening routine and then slept. Woke up at 3 on the nose, so that’s 7 hours of sleep, and I only woke up to roll over and curse the ratrunners.
@see_starling on twitter made this over four years:
Looks like a sixer’s favourite blankee!
Another fic came into my mind almost as soon as the last one was done. This one will be about the quarantine, and snow.
And, from Cory Doctorow, and who knows where besides, Kate Bush as a bat in 1978:
and isn’t the costume the sweetest hoot I looked for 20 minutes on the internet for a photo credit and gave up, fuck you uncaring universe, I try to give credit but the internet has eaten the attribution just as surely as names wear off headstones