Who the fuck? - singalong
Helicity called
when he got the word,
he said, i suppose you've heard
about Spectre
Well, i rushed to the window,
and i looked outside
But i could hardly believe my eyes
As a big Thanatos docked up
into the station
Oh i don't know why he's leaving, or where he's gonna go
I guess he's got his reasons but i just don't want to know
'cos for twenty-two years i've been having no clue about Spectre
(Spectre? Who the fuck is Spectre!)
Twenty-two years of not having the chance
To tell him who i am and maybe get a second glance
Now i've got to get used to not flying in a fleet with Spectre
(Spectre? Who the fuck is Spectre!)
We flew out there apart
two pirates in the dark
the clueless rookie
and the top shark
me and Spectre
Now he walks through the door with his head held high
Just for a moment, i caught his eye
As the big Thanatos undocked slowly
out of the station
Oh i don't know why he's leaving, or where he's gonna go
I guess he's got his reasons but i just don't want to know
'cos for twenty-two years i've been having no clue about Spectre
(Spectre? Who the fuck is Spectre!)
Twenty-two years of not having the chance
To tell him who i am and maybe improve my finance
Now i've got to get used to not flying in a fleet with Spectre
(Spectre? Who the fuck is Spectre!)
Helicity called back and asked how i felt
He said, i know how to help get over Spectre
He said now Spectre is gone but i'm still here
You know i've been waiting for twenty-two years
And the big Thanatos disappeared
I don't know why he's leaving, or where he's gonna go
I guess he's got his reasons but i just don't want to know
'cos for twenty-two years i've been having no clue about Spectre
(Spectre? Who the fuck is Spectre!)
Twenty-two years of not having the chance
To tell him who i am and maybe get a second glance
But i'll never get used to not flying in a fleet with Spectre
(Spectre? Who the fuck is Spectre!)
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Reciprocations
Cha raised her arms wide, and the fading moonlight brightly reflected off the datapad in her left hand, sprinkling fairy light drops dancing at her feet. She stayed relatively immobile for a while, her feet spread to stabilise the gentle rocking of the kayak, her decisions bouncing back and forth between throwing and reading.
The absurd juxtaposition of having a forgotten high tech gadget all lit up, while being in the tiny plastic boat in the heaving sea, absorbed the moment.
She had put space life to the side, and now it had come to retrieve her. The desire to be out there suddenly struck her with painstaking scrupulousness, and she leafed through it with a strange, almost guilty pleasure that had barbs and hurt her almost as much as it pleased her. She lingered over it, searching in vain for something that might keep her planetbound.
Six months ago she would have sworn that when she looked at the life down here from up there, she'd never return to it, because it was irrelevant in the bigger scheme of things. She remembered thinking her grandma's life had been absurd and pointless, but even more so was the fact that she had died, without ever having seen her granddaughter back. It left Cha with a nauseating, existential angst that plagued her being like a furball spiralling down the drain plied loose with unhealthy doses of Blood Raider Tonic.
The air was delicate with the moisty scent of the island woods mixed with the salt of the water. Now and then she heard an early gull, hung oppressively low in the heavens, screaming it's anger to the stalling dawn.
She ached for the tears to come, but they stubbornly refused, like they always had. The datapad stopped buzzing and she sat down, placing it carefully before her, avoiding to look at it.
She rubbed her hands together to stimulate the circulation and peered through the railings.
"Time for a wee dram," she thought. She unbuttoned her coat and removed a half bottle from the breast pocket, took a couple of sips and replaced the cap.
"I better not drink too much of this," she said out loud to noone, "otherwise I'll get lost again."
The cork bobbed, went under, moved sideways, and then stopped all movement. If she hadn't been trained so exhaustively by her grandma, she wouldn't have noticed the tiny ripple around the cork, and thought it false alarm. She snatched. The fish tried to shake the unpleasant hook out of his fish lips. Cha pulled again. He went motionless, and Cha relaxed. Suddenly he bolted towards the beach, over and between rocks and driftwood - Cha's fly reel whizzed as he took out line. She cursed. She couldn’t reel him back over the logs and rocks without breaking the line. "Outsmarted by a fish", she said to the gull, and she started laughing like a clown on weed.
She stopped abruptly, then hopped in the water and waded slowly down the rocks in the knee-deep water, reeling in excess line until she found the fish. It watched her, one-eyed, defiantly.
She grabbed it and unhooked it. The fishing was good; it was the catching that was bad. She knew it was torture, and unfair, and senseless; she didn't even eat fish. She was merely recreating the past, fishing for absolution and deliverance, baiting her memories like fish-hooks, casting them into reality, but they were sinking down through the cold, dark water of guilt.
She waded back to the kayak, and took the datapad. Standing in the water and leaning her elbows on the side, she went through the messages, skipping all the yadayada of polite condoleances. They were barracuda, all of them.
Two names caught her attention.
Eran Mintor, who, to her no small surprise, now worked for the Valklear Guard. Her very first fighting instructor now was a pirate hunter - the ways of the universe were inscrutable indeed.
The second name was Nakatre Read, now employed by PRETA. She pulled up one eyebrow. If she remembered right, that was Ghost Festival - and Ghost Festival, that meant Angels - pure and uncut criminal class.
And they had a job opening.
The absurd juxtaposition of having a forgotten high tech gadget all lit up, while being in the tiny plastic boat in the heaving sea, absorbed the moment.
She had put space life to the side, and now it had come to retrieve her. The desire to be out there suddenly struck her with painstaking scrupulousness, and she leafed through it with a strange, almost guilty pleasure that had barbs and hurt her almost as much as it pleased her. She lingered over it, searching in vain for something that might keep her planetbound.
Six months ago she would have sworn that when she looked at the life down here from up there, she'd never return to it, because it was irrelevant in the bigger scheme of things. She remembered thinking her grandma's life had been absurd and pointless, but even more so was the fact that she had died, without ever having seen her granddaughter back. It left Cha with a nauseating, existential angst that plagued her being like a furball spiralling down the drain plied loose with unhealthy doses of Blood Raider Tonic.
The air was delicate with the moisty scent of the island woods mixed with the salt of the water. Now and then she heard an early gull, hung oppressively low in the heavens, screaming it's anger to the stalling dawn.
She ached for the tears to come, but they stubbornly refused, like they always had. The datapad stopped buzzing and she sat down, placing it carefully before her, avoiding to look at it.
She rubbed her hands together to stimulate the circulation and peered through the railings.
"Time for a wee dram," she thought. She unbuttoned her coat and removed a half bottle from the breast pocket, took a couple of sips and replaced the cap.
"I better not drink too much of this," she said out loud to noone, "otherwise I'll get lost again."
The cork bobbed, went under, moved sideways, and then stopped all movement. If she hadn't been trained so exhaustively by her grandma, she wouldn't have noticed the tiny ripple around the cork, and thought it false alarm. She snatched. The fish tried to shake the unpleasant hook out of his fish lips. Cha pulled again. He went motionless, and Cha relaxed. Suddenly he bolted towards the beach, over and between rocks and driftwood - Cha's fly reel whizzed as he took out line. She cursed. She couldn’t reel him back over the logs and rocks without breaking the line. "Outsmarted by a fish", she said to the gull, and she started laughing like a clown on weed.
She stopped abruptly, then hopped in the water and waded slowly down the rocks in the knee-deep water, reeling in excess line until she found the fish. It watched her, one-eyed, defiantly.
She grabbed it and unhooked it. The fishing was good; it was the catching that was bad. She knew it was torture, and unfair, and senseless; she didn't even eat fish. She was merely recreating the past, fishing for absolution and deliverance, baiting her memories like fish-hooks, casting them into reality, but they were sinking down through the cold, dark water of guilt.
She waded back to the kayak, and took the datapad. Standing in the water and leaning her elbows on the side, she went through the messages, skipping all the yadayada of polite condoleances. They were barracuda, all of them.
Two names caught her attention.
Eran Mintor, who, to her no small surprise, now worked for the Valklear Guard. Her very first fighting instructor now was a pirate hunter - the ways of the universe were inscrutable indeed.
The second name was Nakatre Read, now employed by PRETA. She pulled up one eyebrow. If she remembered right, that was Ghost Festival - and Ghost Festival, that meant Angels - pure and uncut criminal class.
And they had a job opening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
