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Thread: Headful of ghosts.

  1. #11
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    lord knows i try to be good
    i'd keep my promises if only i could..


    Solomon Stills :

    Journal.


    November 11th.

    Dysfunction in a pure-bred world of serene love and kisses? Oh, I do believe it's possible. I was a skeptic to it at first, but then I realized something that I hadn't in our former six months of being bound and lip-synching. Kate Pierce (soon-to-be-a 'Stills' cos I can't save the family name...only she can) has a fucking temper beyond belief. I've never seen a woman gone so barmy in my life.

    I was outside smoking with Sydney..nothing happened at all--the usual cack (this is the girl that has been asking me out for two years and still doesn't get the point) I think I reached in her pocket for a lighter and she was a bit coquettish. Anyway, guess who comes running over like hell froze over? Kate. Now, we're on a city sidewalk, tons of people are walking by, and she's already threatening Sydney within an inch of her life. To say the least I was quiet, as I was naturally baffled by her behaviour. (Specks of violence have been showing up in her demeanor lately--she slapped some girl at a club that wanted to dance with me while she was in the bathroom, and she slapped me repeatedly in foreplay the other night---I normally wouldn't complain...but it was the thing she said that worried me. i.e. "I bet you thought of me while you were fucking all those other girls while I was gone.") Before I knew it, she was turning on me, stridently calling me a cunt, or an asshole or something along those lines because she was so hacked off and before I knew it she slapped me. This wasn't for sex in the privacy of our own home. This was from unloading anger in front of people. A few people that knew me passed by and commented, even. I was embarrassed and I was mad.

    So I told her to get in the car. Resistance, of course, but I kept it firm and she complied. As soon as we arrived home, she went crazy. I can't even remember it correctly, but I knew she was venting. She threw things, shoved me, and tried to batter the hell out of me (to which I left her in my tracks--strutting into the bedroom.) But then she did the most unthinkable, forbidden thing--threatened to leave and headed out the door. Not only did I chase her, but I felt myself getting more aggressive than I ever really felt before...and I dragged her into the room, slammed her on the bed, and read her my suicide note that she never heard from months back (months back when it really hurt...and God, it was coming back now that she threatened again.) She was bawling, she lost herself, and so did I. In this haze, I accused her of all my mistakes, I told her that I didn't like living, that I would've rather been dead than to live with her (it was in the most obscure way, and thank God she didn't catch it.) Just a bunch of psychotic, spur-of-the-moment things that I didn't mean. Such a tragedy. I ripped the pictures I drew of her off the wall, offered her a razorblade to "slit my throat with" (I'm such a dramatic asshole when I'm upset) and before I knew it she was cradling me in the corner of the room while I burrowed my face and cried in her lap. That's why you have to love women. They have so much empathy--you accuse them of killing you, and they hold you and vanquish your tears. They're so omnipotent, omniscient (not omnivores, but I really like that 'omni' prefix) and they're beautiful. I fell asleep in her lap, and I woke up around midnight and carried her to bed. We slept like we never did before.. like two children that had cried themselves to sleep.

    I love her when I'm down.

    <font color="#ff99ff" size="1">[ November 11, 2002 09:12 PM: Message edited by: greedy fly ]</font>

  2. #12
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    Four years ago today:


    7:04 AM:

    Like a ventriloquist dummy he reluctantly unhinged the taut structure of his blonde-littered mandible, stretching until everything resonantly clicked in place. There was something protruding in his side, ready to burrow and eat its' way inside the shroud of his chalky flesh. Swatting absently at the Bacardi bottle, he unraveled unto his spine, and stretched himself out like a basking panther. His hipbones protruded something disgusting and ill, dawning from beneath the hem of his alcohol-banal black long-sleeved shirt. The emaciated portrait of accordion skeleton ribs and nineteen year old waste-away wired his exterior wrist to smudge away at his eyeliner and lilac bruise. Ceramic-veneer retina, and its' marble core started a maddened pace around the room. It was then that he acknowledged just where he was..and why he was so very uncomfortable. Acclimating to the blur, and adjusting the lens in a photographic mind, Solomon arrected himself to half-mast, and used his heeled palms like a tent to keep the unsturdy midsection hoisted.

    Unruly satin-spilled tassels of mangled black hair furnished his youthfully-cut features; defined brows, a prominent nose, and almost full ruby lips (like a lush.) One lid remained sticky in a half-mast snapshot, but he corrected that soon enough by promoting another finger smear. On one side of him was this kid named Syme --he just met him tonight, and he was drooling all over his twig-like arm. The other side (the Brit was a caved-in masterpiece of an island) was some girl he didn't recognize, because her magma-red mane was fiery and plastered to her face.


    "...hn.." grunted unevenly as he groped around for something reliable to hold him up--nothing. He depended on himself.

    The ache stung like fusillades of gunpowder, and as he started to crochet past at least two dozen floor-laden legs, he accidentally padded over a few calves. Someone even scowled at him, stirring once, twice, and mumbling something incoherent before returning to their post-drunken stupor. He couldn't remember much from the party--but judging by the fact that everyone was unconscious on the floor--it must've been fun.

    Finally, he found the silhouette of his limp body, burrowed underneath the debris of a couch cushion. Solomon thought it was comical, but he didn't chuckle..- he was too wobbly to, anyway. Draining awkwardly to plop at his side (he slammed into a slumber-sleek girl like an intoxicated sailor) he laid along the cripple of her spine, and she never once inveighed because she was too far gone. Elevating the cushion from blindfolding the sleeping tyrant (his elder: his god: his father figure: his lover: his destiny) he worked himself up enough to jostle his shoulder. (Solomon was always afraid he was dead. Like his mother was when he stumbled upon her body.) But instead of being corpse-clammy and unresponsive, Judas Eden batted in scorn at Solomon, slurring a thick "no..." He didn't want to wake up. However, the puppy was breathing in his long, disheveled hair--thus, he had no choice.

    "Come on, I want to go home.." whimpered the youth, grazing his neck with heat-flared nostrils, and balmy lips.

    " ..morning. What time is it?"

    "Seven o'clock," Solomon peered at his watch again, and rearranged it. "Seven-oh-four."

    The Brit flitted his fingers over the concoction of pin-dotted bruises and telltale spots of death cursing his boyfriend's inner arms, right along the most prominent vine-like vein. "They're so ugly."

    Heroin-lethal tracks. Solomon never watched Jude shoot up at parties (free drugs!) because it reminded him too much of what he witnessed as a kid. Therefore, Jude would swim in the smack in swarthy bedrooms with a few other choice loser characters, whilst his boy mingled in inebriation; snorting lines, kissing girls, being the life of the party ...and eventually passing out (Jude was just so much more antisocial.)

    Jude whipped his arm away in a sort of brash fury. He didn't need anyone else telling him that his habit was ugly-- he knew it damn well full enough by now.

    "Yeah well...they're a lot prettier than the rest of me," elicited the pessimistic elder.

    Mr. Stills found that numb comment too dumb to even respond to. So after a moment of cradling one another and debating, Solomon won and they were both hiking up in the midst of these strung-out corpses (they were alive...somewhere in there) one scouring for his jacket, and the other trying to remember how to put things back in order while he descended. Soon enough, after Jude ribboned a battered shoelace, and Solomon shrouded himself in a brown, fluffy coat (lingering somewhere along his mid-thigh and denim-shredded kneecap) they were off.

    The car ride was spent in silence. Solomon smoked a cigarette and shoveled quaking fingers through his untamable ebon-corked hair, and Jude ran every stop sign and red-light (due to the fact it was Sunday morning--and the streets were barren was anticipated.) Once they parked, the driver relied on the hood of the car to maneuver his way across, and the passenger stammered out of the semi-opulent vehicle; tripping on the hilt of the curb but recovering when he sliced the heel of his palm against the cement. Splattering footsteps to catch up to his elder, Solomon wrapped an arm around his waist to play a mortal crutch, and together they plodded into the alcove of a busy elevator (Jude's apartment, naturally.) There, he stinted Jude against the wall, and entombed his widow's peak-hedged forehead into his clavicle, a stowaway until their floor was reached.

    And later on, when they were out of the shower, and Jude was struggling to get into bed before he threw up .. despite their problems, their bumpy roads, their sour, sour battles with addiction-- Solomon's webbed mind burnt this naive, and knowing line: We're going to be together forever.

  3. #13
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    Today.

    IDLE IDOL.

    3:21 AM:

    There was a routine! There was a pattern! There was a certain way to do this without disrupting her angelic dove-winged canvas of sleep. Solomon had perfected it down to an art (he was an artiste--a virtuoso--he knew what he was doing.) His life had transmuted dramatically by now. He took the metamorphosis, now he was fully-blossomed-- no longer a young man, but at twenty-three he was a man. Shards of everyday had become predictable, translucent ..but fun in that daft.. being stupid in love sort of way. His intense relationship with Judas Eden prospered and then took a dramatic recession so the other could replenish himself in rehab, and over that break he met a lovely (remarkable) girl named Katherine Pierce.

    This .. Kate Pierce loved to bundle him in her embrace every night and make him feel important as the slept united, and venting inside one another's marrow. So, when Solomon had to go to the bathroom suddenly at three AM, he had configured a way to writhe from that gangly girl-grippage without flaw. Resilient and like a feline, the astute boy braceleted her limp wrist, dangling it midair, and slowly he wriggled his shoulder from her niche. Skirting a nude, angular shoulderblade against the beige tussle of linen, he escaped and fled like a fugitive (without panic: he wasn't seized in incarceration--his fiance wasn't going to shoot him or banish him from the continent for bailing from her arms --she'd probably whimper and submerge back into her dreamscape) stapling narrow footprints to the carpet.

    Mentally, he had changed, and physically too. He had an ounce more composure, he carried himself with testosterone-induced pride. Albeit, still much too lean on the ribs; his torso was gravel-chiseled artwork, his skin was honey-roasted, and his hair was a thousand different tidal-waved shades of complimentary gilt-highlights. Svelte musculature; embroidered with a feast of onyx tattoos, a prolific pelvic bone, and a silver-budded tongue that could articulate miracles on the female anatomy. Shuffling into a pair of clinging ripped faded denim jeans (probably identical to the ones from four years ago) he kept his belt jingling a pretty melody after his zipper lurched up, and he meandered into the threshold of the bathroom. Oh, two seconds later, he emerged, and bled Jesus footsteps into the hallway, shifting into the kitchen.

    At night time, the apartment was deaf, and eerie. Riddled through the balcony by brittle streetlight incandescence and polishing police sirens, the adonis felt his feet instantly cooled by the kitchen flooring. Tugging open at the refrigerator, with ribboning locks flooding caramel to hedge his brow, he subtracted a Heineken, uncapped it, and blighted the parched cottonfield of his earthy throat by the rivulets of the beverage. Clearing his throat with a bubble of congestion, he ambled into the living room. His eyes had adjusted the tapering shadows by now, and so, the thin-lipped bloke surrendered himself to a seat at the margin of his coffee table.

    There, he idly drank, listening to the heater and the cats' whimsical rumbling as they clashed and sparred with one another. Kate's cat was corpulent and fluffy white ..oddly enough dubbed 'Turtle' and his best friend was Solomon's contrasting black-lustered feline, 'Quinn' (named after a very good friend.) They were batting at one another, and as though they had seen a ghost, their fur would spontaneously rise, and they'd sprint around the room in frenzied disposition. But upon witnessing him encroaching on their playtime, they both meekly wandered over, nudging wet noses and olive eyes into his exposed kneecaps, entreating either for some beer (which he seriously doubted) attention (that too) or some wet food (they loathed the dry.)

    "Wot 'yew want?" 'Mumbled the barely-coherent Kilburn native to the pair of (thankfully fixed) companions.

    .. Nothing on the other end, obviously.

    "Want some beer, Turtle?" Lolling the bottle to the side, he dabbled his finger against the emerald-tinctured rim until a bead paid homage to the sandpaper callus. Lowering his index finger he wafted it in front of the cat's mouth, but he never complied to lick it. Solomon prodded his shoulders in signature apathy. If Kate witnessed it, she'd both laugh and orally chastise him at the same time.

    Those holy hipbones churned so he could relieve the beer and its' ringed perspiration on the effete coffee table and pivot arachnid-deft fingers to withdraw his wallet. Yielding to unfold the leather origami's width, he wanded and rifled through the bills, and counted out the money meticulously. Four-hundred-ninety-seven dollars. Recoiling two hundred, he gathered to his feet again, wandered into the kitchen, disposed of the now-empty slosh of alcohol and stuffed that plucked couple'hundred into an unmarked envelope. Replacing the bent envelope behind the microwave, he wired another lithe stretch before scraping back into the quiet bedroom.

    There she was; sienna tidal waves, vanilla pores, and a figurine that Aphrodite envied. She hadn't budged at all since he left, and that was enough for him to sew a broad simper. 'Baby reworked his talent, and smeared himself inside the sequence of her arms again, taunting her dependent heartbeat with his. It was so peculiar how their heart rates slowed to harmonize with one another's cadence. It always happened. Every single night.

    They burnt themselves on that bed. They made love. They ate ice cream in it. They fought in it. They lived in it. They painted in it. They wrote poetry in it.


    But Solomon Stills knew now that when he came at the culmination of the day to lay naked--he'd always have an ovened body beside him for the rest of his life.

    And that body was going to be the glistening goddess.

    That body was going to forever be ...Kate Pierce.

  4. #14
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    "Youth really is all the rage. I remember when I first met Solomon Stills he was naive. Yes, naive. He was a little boy at heart. Nineteen years old.. but still a little boy in emotional development. He's the only man that I can't insult for being too driven by testosterone. He never really tries to prove his manhood. He knows he's soft. He know he's tamable. He knows that women are more brilliant beings, and he accepts it - and worships them because of it. I met him at a party. Another one of those drug-infested things that I was really interested in at the time. I remember so very distinctly. I came back from a show, I was a little sweaty, and I needed a beer. Amongst all these young people (I was twenty-four at the time) he looked by far the youngest, and I don't even know why. I'm sure there were half-a-dozen High School students there. He wasn't interacting with anyone, and he looked so shy. I think it was that Quinn slut that brought him there. But God knew where she was. I thought he was so sexy.. so of course I started talking to him! A few beers, and he came out of his shell. He wasn't a lightweight, but he was lighter than say--the tyrant of all pricks; Jude. It turns out that he had a thing for Quinn. She was Queen whore, let me tell you. People may not rever me cos I'm a stripper? I don't give it out to everyone I see after shooting up. She lives upstairs, blahblah, she helped him through hard times. I think I was staring at his crotch instead of listening (what a crotch that is, my friends.) I took him into a backroom, and I tried to fuck him. Come on, you would too! But he was too bothered over something. He asked me: "Do you know that Jude bloke?" Well, hell yeah I know that Jude bloke. I had known Jude for about six months. And I was starting to like him. There was no reason for it. It was because I could be a bitch to him and he'd play rough right back. It was because he had the prettiest face I had ever witnessed before Solomon came along. It was because he was just as lost as I was, and we shared the same problem. It was because he was fucking hot. I used to wish that maybe I could ask him to stay before he ran out the door, but I knew I'd lose my hard, tough veneer if I did that. So I never really did. I acted like I was in kindergarten with Jude. Pulling his hair and pissing him off was a sign of affection. He wanted to hear from me that Jude was no competition for some reason ...I could feel it in his voice. When I found out why though.. I developed a sudden abhorrence for Quinn. Why? Solomon thought that Quinn was 'his girl.' And he walked in on Quinn and Jude having it off, and he was a bit surprised to say the least. I can see him right now: pale as a ghost, mouth trembling, with Jude probably sneering at him. Afterall, when Jude fucks a girl, she's automatically his territory. Quinn was his territory, and Solomon was renting out that territory too. I bet the poor baby didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted Jude dead. And now, fuck, I wanted Quinn dead. We parted that night drunk and feeling sorry for ourselves. But two days later, he was at my door (and how that genius motherfucker found my apartment---I don't know) desperate and fleeting. He shoved me against the wall, and I swear I had one of the best fucks of my life. His size was surprising. His pith even moreso. I decided afterwards he was a better fuck than Jude (it could've been cos Solomon wasn't strung out at the time), but I didn't want to get ahead of myself. Jude was all about being on the top. Solomon could make compromises. They were both all macho. Competing against eachother. Who was more of a man? Jude called Solomon 'the boy' behind his back, and Solomon clenched his teeth and pretended not to hear it. I told Jude Solomon was a better fuck and the moronic bugger flipped out. It turned out that somehow or another---I wasn't there to witness it, Solomon confronted Jude, and they became instant friends. Like, what the fuck was that? This was when Solomon began to change. He didn't have as much empathy. He started to turn into his elder.. because he looked up to Jude. Looked up at him like a father. Looked up at him like a fucking puppy. Those two were always together, stealing drugs, fucking girls and leaving afterwards, watching eachother take girls and do horrible things like they were learning the ropes. I let them both have me once. But I can't say I can remember much of it besides Solomon petting my hair afterwards and saying he was sorry (albeit, I knew I consented--I never understood why he'd apologize.) I was starting to look for a new job, so I didn't have as much time to run myself into the ground with syringes. I found out that Jude and Solomon started dating. The two best shags in the neighborhood dating. Yeah, that's right. DATING. I said 'fuck it,' and stopped talking to everyone. I stopped talking to everyone in that crowd, from Jude to Solomon to Quinn to Trish to Kimmy to Johnny R. Everyone. I found out that without their influences I could go cold turkey. I could keep my legs shut. I could remember the day before yesterday. About a year later or something I vaguely remember being told they broke up and Jude was in rehab. I couldn't even believed they stayed together that long. I didn't know Jude was capable of feeling. But, I still stayed out of the limelight. Got married, matured a little bit. When I met Solomon again, it was four years later. He had changed dramatically. He had some more weight on his bones..... some honest-to-God musculature. He cut his hair a little. Highlighted it. His skin wasn't that disgusting pasty pale, anymore. It seemed almost tan. And his voice. It was sexy. It had always been sexy...but I think it was what I missed the most. His girlfriend left him--another sad tale in his life, so I was there to help him out. We started writing songs together. Him, me and his pink-haired friend named Alice (who was engaged to non-only than Jude. There was no envy from me. I was long over him--I even felt pity for her.) We rearranged his band. I got some equipment together with a few guys I know. He let me sing. And he started to play guitar. We did a few gigs before his girlfriend Kate came back. Now that we've become friends rather than fuck-buddies, we talk a lot more. He caught me up on Jude history, told me how he changed for the better...and then experienced another emotional recession: screwing Solomon and leaving the bride to be. He tore them both apart and it made me want to puke when I heard Alice took him back and Solomon befriended him again. That man is a disease. That man is a bloody disease. But when I think about it. He's me. And I'm him. All the hatred in the world can't change the fact that we thrive in two different bodies as the same person in this world. We're plagues. We're corrosive. We burn.


    We're wise."


    Jillian Monroe.

  5. #15
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    So this is love?


    After 'Push It' Jillian Monroe was giggling, and throwing her thumb over her shoulder.

    "Who wants to see if Solomon has a boner? I swear ...everytime we play that song he gets a fuckin' boner!"

    He was cracking up, burrowing his face in a thick, masculine palm, and the crowd was avidly chanting.

    "Comeeee heeerreee, Solomon!"

    She proclaimed like a tortorous little girl, chasing the fidget around stage -- such a flawless feline. Their antics were funny to say the least, not only were the songs good, but they knew how to entertain the crowd and give one hell of a stage presence.

    "Bah. I give up on yew. I'll get yew after the show, boner-boy."

    The verdant-eyed Scot exaggerated wearied panting, and the smirking boy climbed into his corner niche again, while they tried out 'Temptation Waits' on the new audience. ("I'll tell you something, I am a wolf but ...I like to wear sheep's clothing. I am a bonfire, I am a vampire. I'm waiting for my moment. You come on like a drug--I just can't get enough. I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more.") Definitely what he wrote about Kate when they first got together. Then there was the ever graceful "I Think I'm Paranoid" and "Dumb" before Jill sadly announced they were on their last song.

    "But I promise! After this, Solomon is going to sing yew all something... but this song is called... 'Yew Look So Fine.' And Solomon wrote this for his little bright-cheeked gurl right over there--" She protruded her index finger at Kate...as he set his guitar aside--he didn't need it for this either. "Miss Kate-Soon-To-Be-Stills Pierce over there."

    Kate was giddy and jumping, lurching when the crowd told her to and laughing at how Jill teased Solomon over his probable erection.

    "IT'S THE GUITAR!" Jude shouted out, cupping his hands to call out to the stage in that loud, distinguished bellow, and Kate laughed at him, elbowing him in the ribs, just to be nudged forward in retaliation.

    And when Jill announced that the next song was written for Kate..her cheeks flushed red and she hid her face. Jude let out a chorusing "Awwwwwwwww!" and spun her around to face the stage once more, making sure her arms were stuck to her sides by his so she had to watch.

    "If you cry, I'm going to make fun of you for the rest of your life." He teased.

    Kate just beamed, love-swollen and utterly devoted, leaning forward and arching on her toes to watch Jill sing and Solomon just..wander the stage for the time being. The music began to brew, morose, sullen .. but something beautiful to sway to (a serenade.) This was when Solomon spontaneously faltered from the stage, cradling the ledge so he could land on his feet. Kate was stuck behind a bar.. (and Jude) but it didn't matter. He was just as brawn as any of the security guards, and by edging forward and baiting her by her hips, he elevated her out of the cramped capacity, and took the side stairs (holding her hand) unto the stage again. The lyrics began to echo ..via a pristine vocalist. "You look so fine.. I want to ...break your heart, and give you mine. You're taking me over."

    "Come on, lamb," he whispered, trudging onstage a distance from Jill, but somewhere around the centre.

    The girls in the audience were in jealous, romanticist awe (and poor Jude probably had more people crushing him by now.) Those meager petals quirked into a subtle smile, and he poised their folded hands to the side, and placed the other set on her hip. If they were going to dance- they were going to dance classically...there were no exceptions. He pressed the widow's peak-ornamented, sheened forehead to hers', as started wading in a little circle. "It's so insane.. you got me ..tethered and chained, I hear your name..and I'm falling over. I'm not like all the other girls...I can't take it like the other girls. I won't share it like the other girls that you used to know.. you look so fine."

    And out of nowhere, there he was, tearing her from the confines of Jude's protective stance and letting him be crushed by the bar this time. She wobbled on love-faulty legs towards the stage, horribly thrilled, and horribly passioned..she ached for him at moments like these. And when he pulled her on that stage and took her hand..they were the epitome of true love. His hand on her hip, hers on his shoulder, both of them molded as close as they could be. Her head spun, and there was no one else. There was Solomon, the floor and the music being played. Not a huge crowd of people watching, not a band performing around them, just Kate getting lost in the moment. They danced in slow circles like classic movie stars and Kate was pressing a quick peck to his lips when they were parallel to the crowd, just so no one could see. Her fingers laced with his, her legs and hips swaying as they trodded in circles, it was a romantic's dream come true. It was all Kate had ever wanted, and it was right there in front of her, and a few hundred other people. And so they danced. The lyrics played on ..and he reiterated them all through honeysweet whisper beside the shell of his lover's earlobe after that petite kiss sampled. "Knocked down..cried out.. been down just to find out... I'm through..bleeding for you."

    Jill kept glancing to them with this blithe (but it was so, so sad..she was twenty-eight years old, and she'd never have this) and Alice even peeked out from the backcurtain with Tony beside her chewing on an apple. She was squealing, because she knew he plotted something, but she didn't think he'd dance with her in front of everyone! "I'm open wide... I want to take you home, we'll waste sometime. You're the only one for me." He had to stay from her hip for a moment so he could stroke her cheek with the width of a silver-banded thumb, and tilt her chin for another tender kiss. The chorus repeated, and the song neared to an end.. but not without some fervent, needy lyrics. "You're taking me over.. over and over.. I'm falling over. Over and over. Drown in me one more time. Hide inside ..me tonight. Do what you ..want to do. Just pretend..happy end. Let me know, let it show..ending with...letting go..."

    It was something you'd read about in a cute little novel written by a smitten female, not something you'd experience. This was meant to play out on a movie screen, not to Kate in the middle of a packed club. In a way, it seemed to her like Solomon was solidifying this. He was proclaiming it to everyone, to himself and to her. Just how very real this was. Kate spotted Alice over Solomon's shoulder and was already flushed pink and pretty much shaking with this cross between stomach-twisting nervousness and passion-fueled affection. He touched her cheek and she shook for him (crying was not the answer here, but fuckin' A, she wouldn't be Kate if she didn't leak a tear or two), lip trembled and she grinned to herself (she felt like an ass) and undid their foreheads after that kiss and smeared her face in his shoulder. She'd let herself rest there, hanging on until the song faded away into that melodic ending, her hand clinging to his and her fingers resting on his shoulderblade in an oh so sweet stance.

    When the song finished, people cheered insanely - as though some revolution was surging underway. Things became suspicious when Jill didn't mutter in the microphone afterwards. A deafening blanket of silence ceremented them - so far from leaden, but rather sleek. He nudged away her desolate waterworks (tear duct sweat) with the sandpaper-notched crescent of his thumbnail, before he parted from her a little bit. Solomon Stills had promised her. He promised to sacrifice himself for her, for their love, for their long, long barbed-wire battle for the freedom they deserved together. Even though he had proposed, he still hadn't supplied her with that ring. ...And that ring? Well, that was what his paycheck envelope was for: investment.

    The lull of disconcerting silence only seemed to bleed into the colors of opaque eyes, and slowly, he withered to the protrusion of a bent kneecap, and rifled through his pocket. And one could hear Alice practically shrieking from several yards away. Here it was: the artificial bind of their love (though they could interminably-engrave it through blood, sweat and tears) all ..sheltered in a velvet black-box refuge. So he gingerly unlatched it, and since he knew he didn't need to ask, he plucked out the immaculate gold ring (with the most modest diamond---so sweet and gorgeous) and slid it unto her ring finger, offering her a serene wink. "..now....we're gonna get married, Baby."

  6. #16
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    Once upon a time, more than four years ago, Solomon Stills and Judas Eden fell in love.


    "I ....---these...---I'm scared, Jude. I don't like doing this. I don't like wh--when you and me ---we fuck all tt....these ...girls and we make them feel so cheap. It makes me so sa...sad to know... Because I w-- ..wouldn't do that to ..to Marie or...Quinn or Jill. Because...because they're women. We shouldn't do this. But I want to do it because I want to be your friend, and I want you to be able to trust me more than any other fucking man in this neighborhood...s...so...I do."

    "I'm crying like a ...faggot. I'm crying like a faggot because around you ..I am."

  7. #17
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    It's about 2 AM now, and Kate just recently fell asleep tangled with me, sad and miserable because of her feeble stomach. Maybe she's catching unto the trend... haha.. that's not even funny, Solomon. Yeah, I have half a mind to read her diary---but I have more reverence for her than that. I wonder if she's ever read mine? I wonder what she says about me in there. You know, potential fake orgasms, how she probably hates my hair, maybe my legs are too hairy, toes are too crooked. Oh well. My hands are weary from holding her hair back for hours, but I know she's done the same for me when I went on a binge or got too drunk. Whether she likes it or not, I'm taking her to the doctors tomorrow, and I'm taking off work. Albeit, I use her working time as Christmas Shopping hours to get things done. I got Quinn (the cat) the cutest collar--oh fuck, she's not going to know it's Christmas. And just to rattle Kate's chain maybe I'll find cat diet pills or something for Turtle. Now, there's a thousand things one could buy Kate, or Alice, but what the fuck do you buy Jude? Seriously. Sunglasses? No. I forgot what I bought him back in the day when Christmas was really important to one another because it was all we had. Quinn's easy, Jill's easy. The girls are always so easy..then you have Syme, Jude and John to just...ruin it for you. Oh well, they're my family, you know?

    Thanksgiving went surprisingly well considering the crowd we shoved together. Kate made a salad in the kitchen but butchered the baked bread so I had to literally chase her out of the kitchen as nice as possible. It was Quinn, her new girlfriend Miranda (too skinny for my tastes), Jude, Alice, Syme and of course, Kate and me. Somehow we wound up looking through the old photo albums I had recently shown Alice in the summertime and she kept chanting something along the lines of: "Show the chunky ones!" She's a big fan of that little stage of my life, apparently. Jude forged interest- some things are so lucid with him, but leave it to the women to be absolutely amazed by bathtub pictures, soccer, and of course, pictures of them that I've taken over the years. Isn't it funny how Quinn's hair has been in those dreadlocks for four years? Don't you think she gets tired of it? Maybe I'm just used to Alice changing her hair every week.

    I'm perfectly content right now despite the fact my girl's sick. She'll be fine soon, as soon as I dig out the tinsel and track down a tree that will actually fit in our living room.

    I love my family.

  8. #18
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    Christmas time with Solomon Stills:

    - ornaments in your hair while you slept.

    - quinn rosalin realizing: 'hey, your tits really aren't fake! solomon told me they weren't but i soooo didn't believe him!'

    - one overly-vivacious naked boy with santa hats and garlands used as scarves around his neck.

    - two very unhappy cats jingling with bows.

    - no sleeping past nine am.

    - everyday was christmas to solomon!

    - dirty toys in the stockings.

    - a lopsided tree.

    - laced egg nog.

    - getting your hair braided by this boy...that..........somehow......naturally knows how to braid a woman's hair. red bows!

    - sex under the christmas tree.

    - pretending you don't hear him praying to his first love - marie late at night, telling her that her name will bleed off his tongue on his deathbed under the mistletoe and london snowflakes.

  9. #19
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    Childhood living is easy to do
    The things you wanted
    I bought them for you
    Graceless lady,
    You know who I am
    You know I can't let you slide through my hand

    Wild horses
    Couldn't drag me away
    Wild, wild horses
    Couldn't drag me away

    I watched you suffer
    A dull aching pain
    Now you're decided
    To show me the same
    No sweeping exits
    Or offstage lines
    Could make me feel bitter
    Or treat you unkind

    I know I've dreamed you
    A sin and a lie
    I have my freedom
    But I dont have much time
    Faith has been broken
    Tears must be cried
    Let's do some living
    After we die

    Wild horses
    Couldn't drag me away
    Wild, wild horses
    Couldn't drag me away


    -- the rolling stones.

    <font color="#666666" size="1">[ May 27, 2003 09:55 PM: Message edited by: cigarillo ]</font>

  10. #20
    HB Forum Owner greedy fly's Avatar
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    what do you love?

    jesus, waking up in the morning. in the city. in the winter. sometimes, it's so bright ..sometimes ..it's not. cooking breakfast for kate. watching her wake up in the morning. the sound she makes when she yawns. the way she looks when we're making love--especially when she's on top of me. she's beautiful. her mouth, her eyes. my cat. my friends. my music. kate, kate, kate.

    what is your favorite thing?

    kate. especially when she loves me and laughs.

    what is your favorite utensil?

    chopsticks. they're fun to work.

    best song of all time?
    it's torn between 'suspicious minds' by elvis and 'wild horses' by the stones. both song intrigue me to no end.

    favorite ex?

    i don't know... marie was my first love. i still am in love with her. i've had plenty of girlfriends.. but i'd have to say jude, because he's still my best friend, and marie because..she was a goddess.

    favorite movie?

    deer hunter? deer hunter. i don't know. probably the deer hunter.

    favorite actor?

    something along the lines of...benicio del toro. robert deniro. brando. nicholson. the legends, and the new legends.

    favorite actress?

    does courtney love count? i really love chloe sevigny. i love.. julia roberts for obvious reasons. i love cameron diaz. i love blondes.

    tip?

    i need to get more---oh, um.. make sure you spend at least thirty seconds deciding on what pair of socks to wear in a day.

    boxers or briefs?

    fuck it all. liberty for the male anatomy. i don't wear underwear. and i prance around the house or outside, i'll probably wear boxers.

    favorite food?

    pasta. any kind of pasta.

    place you want to be?

    paris. it's so romantic. it's fit for kate and me.

    favorite drink?

    vodka and cranberry. red stripe. and i used to get my hands on absinthe.

    favorite drug?

    whatever makes me high.

    favorite piercing?

    probably my nipples. they're fun. and my tongue. it's productive.

    favorite tattoo?

    my spiderweb. it hurt so good. i had a wicked sadistic moment while getting it. i tried to shag the tattoo artists' leg. ...quinn's.

    least favorite chore?

    paying the bills. sorting them out. i have better things to do, like take my girlfriend out.

    least favorite person?

    probably kate's brother. jill's husband. my father, albeit i never really met him.

    say the first thing that comes to mind.

    sex

    yes please, and make it hard.

    wine

    wish i could afford ch?teau margaux.

    birthday

    kate's.

    london

    home.

    marriage

    orgasm. rings.

    love

    kate.

    guns

    bad.

    the brady bunch

    say wot?

    the american flag

    4th of july.

    best friend

    jude. quinn. alice.

    cigarette

    marlboro. mary jane.

    education

    need some more.

    life

    to 30 at least.

    <font color="#330000" size="1">[ January 23, 2003 07:03 AM: Message edited by: greedy fly ]</font>

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