Jet-setting!! and a project

I'm leaving for LA tomorrow!!! whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
...........ooooooooooooo.

I am lying when I say I am excited to get processed by Homeland Security Immigration again...

14 hours of united airlines.  Yep.  On a plane that I assume is a relic from the 70s.  Ok maybe not that old, the 90's at least.

But still.  I have loaded my lovely new tablet (Thanks Demise!!!!) with stuffs to watch so I am going to indulge my tiny (read: large) obsession with Vin Diesel the nerd by having a Riddick Marathon. 

TMI - I will try very hard not to feel splooshy.

I really should stop with the gifs and all

I'll take photos and all that shizzle and report my findings upon my timely return and hopefully i'll be inspired to finish my fiction project.

Its....going..... slow.

I dont know what direction to take with the story anyway, especially since there are other little short stories floating about in my head.  But I want to be a bit consistent and try my best to finish it through.

Below is a small section I wrote this week.  I have no idea if this is a stand-alone story which is related to the original one or if this is like an incomplete chapter or something.

Anyhoo, tell me what you think! (expect that its doesn't make much sense and feels out of context, i sort of know that and I can only hope you can glean something interesting from it or like it enough to demand expansion).

To a slightly tepid but sunny Infinity!!! see you all in two weeks and Happy Easter/Spring Equinox/Chocolate Eating Day/Rabbit appreciation (but not in a bestiality way) day!!!!!

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Out in the black, the word loneliness becomes inadequate.  Especially here, amongst my brothers and sisters, alone and together at once, in this space of the void.

Sometimes I remember the few times I stepped onto the material plains.  Remember the slow blinking eyes of the people who eventually called themselves the fair folk.  They were not always fair.  Not then, when I had encountered them the first time.

In other places, I merely watched, small beings in the dirt clawing at the light that blinded them.  The fair ones gone from a world that they no longer wanted.  Just these wretched were left behind.

Some had stayed behind, some of the mighty ones, the Mountain Race, short but sturdy and wickedly inventive.  But even they too vanished.

I remember how pathetic they were.  As I silently stalked among the rushes of the Euphrates.  Those angry little simians, so much more beautiful but so much more monstrous than anything that came before. 

Some of my siblings wanted to stay.  I felt it was not my place.  But I digress.

Its easy to do so, out here, digress, that is.

That is of course, if I even am digressing.

The void can make you mad.  Isn't it obvious.

It’s a wonder that there are any of us left.  A dragon is still a material creature and this place that we have chosen to exile ourselves to does not assist in keeping our minds and memories stable.  Sometimes I wonder if we were being punished but cannot remember.

But even here, in the void, I think I dream.

They may be memories, but I know I have not lived this.  Time is a fragile thing, like the reflection of a dying star upon our scales.  The heat is instant and before we know it, it is cold once more.

But I do remember my dreams.  They are earthy and warm. 

The tinkling sounds of long, uncut grass in a small garden.  A little girl with freckles and a silly name, sucking on her index finger after cutting it on a mishandled gardening implement.

The smell of acrid gunpowder, that same girl, now older struggling to aim down the barrel of a large weapon.

The taste of fried corn chips, devoured carelessly by the girl (young once again, a toddler), a slightly toothy grin (but mostly gums, the other teeth were fragments of corn chips stuck to her gums) and a small hand reaching out to a larger one, eager for attention.

Her hands, I noticed, had salsa all over her fingers and it tasted only a bit spicy.

She is older again in other dreams and her hands are tight fists as she struggles in the dark corner of the sterile room to keep herself together.  Her heart, human, warm and pulsing and surprisingly loud is hammering and her eyes are stinging and her throat hurts so much as if she had swallowed a stone.  She has failed even though she is victorious and her triumph tastes like ash in her mouth.

Sometimes, in those particular dreams, I can hear her.  And I'm struck at how despite the majority of my dreams feature her as a young, giggly, brown, freckled little thing, all I hears is the rushing river of her despair, tempered only by her stubbornness not to drown in whatever it is that makes her think this way.

One dream stood out.  She was standing, alone. 

But she did not move, refused to.  And then there was nothing but fire. 

I wake suddenly in those dreams, slightly discomfited about feeling slightly to big and clumsy, too stubborn and sometimes, too ugly.  But those thoughts, if they were my own at all are brushed off like old cobwebs in this strange dimension, like an old attic where the things that creation forgot are stored until nostalgia or necessity recalls them.

This dream person, with dream things that he knows but does not know keeps him from drowning in the deep dark. 

It makes the wait bearable.

And so, along with many of his brother and sisters, those who decided to stay in the dark, wait.

But he suspects no one knows what they are waiting for anymore.

In the meantime, I have the comfort of my own thoughts and dreams.  A chance to be and observe creatures so different from myself. 

Sometimes I think they are premonitions and sometimes I think that if they are, that they never come to pass.

I do not know how small creatures such as Dwarves, Neylin or Humans can cope with so much material sensation and not go mad from the knowledge.  Sometimes I fear this dream girl will suffer that very fate.

But I lose the thought as easily as it comes and I am once again asleep, or dreaming, or awake and imagining, I cannot tell.

The little brown, freckled girl is laughing, sitting aloft the shoulders of a familiar looking creature, a mountain troll, she is grown but is very much a child.  Her sadness a small veil clouding her eyes but her laughter is loud.

I can bear myself to dream.  It makes the wait easier.

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