A few weeks ago I was sitting on a bench in a local park, enjoying the sunshine and a copy of El hacedor when I heard a small, throaty cough to my right. I turned to see who had joined me. Hmm. Her.
"So," she began, "you seem to have changed a lot lately, little war-fetter. I don't suppose you actually believe that you've grown out of it, do you?" She has a predatory look about her, as some pretty tigress who sees books and men and the world as petit fours for her voracious Appetite. Sure, she also enjoys dropping a Lovecraft reference in conversation, pontificating on the Blonde Archetype, listening to Man Man and drinking small-batch bourbon, but in her it turns into twisted vanity, the acting of a histrionic prima donna always yearning to be more perfect, more brilliant, more desirable.
"Actually, sweetheart, I think I have," I replied. "It was exactly what I needed, but I don't have a need or a want for it now."
"But you belong to the world, not to yourself."
"You're wrong. You belong to the world. It can have you, and you can have it. I'm through. No hard feelings. I'm just not that person any more."
And, with that, Flux, and all that she was, vanished in a puff of smoke, to be resigned to the void and not to my life.
It's been a long, weird, and wonderful five years, everyone. I've lived and learned and loved and had a damn fine time. But at this point, there's just not any more of this stuff left in me. You all be good now, you hear?
SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI
FLUX: 2003-2008
"So," she began, "you seem to have changed a lot lately, little war-fetter. I don't suppose you actually believe that you've grown out of it, do you?" She has a predatory look about her, as some pretty tigress who sees books and men and the world as petit fours for her voracious Appetite. Sure, she also enjoys dropping a Lovecraft reference in conversation, pontificating on the Blonde Archetype, listening to Man Man and drinking small-batch bourbon, but in her it turns into twisted vanity, the acting of a histrionic prima donna always yearning to be more perfect, more brilliant, more desirable.
"Actually, sweetheart, I think I have," I replied. "It was exactly what I needed, but I don't have a need or a want for it now."
"But you belong to the world, not to yourself."
"You're wrong. You belong to the world. It can have you, and you can have it. I'm through. No hard feelings. I'm just not that person any more."
And, with that, Flux, and all that she was, vanished in a puff of smoke, to be resigned to the void and not to my life.
It's been a long, weird, and wonderful five years, everyone. I've lived and learned and loved and had a damn fine time. But at this point, there's just not any more of this stuff left in me. You all be good now, you hear?
SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI
FLUX: 2003-2008
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denie:
wow! welcome back yo!!!
grompf:
