Date: 2009-08-23 09:15 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public

dear god I am so hungover.
my kingdom for a bloody potion.
[some unreadable scribbles]
cheers for the firewhiskey
[more unreadable scribbles]

got a book -- maybe some fresh air and height to read will help

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Date: 2009-08-16 11:32 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public

I think I just gave someone political advice.

Ah, nostalgia, it hits hard and deep. Makes me miss my well-woven suits.

I do occasionally wonder what became of my place in Rickmansworth and all of my material possessions. It's probably been raided, although I don't think I actually owned a lot that would be helpful and necessary nowadays. I did have a lovely set of German knives that were relatively unused.

Perhaps someone is even living there. Also an interesting thought - someone sliding into my suits, reading my books, eating off my cubist-patterned plates. Wondering, perhaps as I am about him, what the combination of possessions tell about the person who owned them.

I hope they haven't found my album collection.

Hm.

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Date: 2009-08-09 10:54 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public

It was an interesting evening last night/early this morning. A healer would be appreciated - any that reply, I'll provide directions. A tailor in York wouldn't go amiss either - I am in desperate need of some new trousers since I don't think these can be repaired any further.

We got into a very nasty fire-fight with a hag of all things who had a COCKATRICE that fortunately had the wings clipped by the hag. Hag is dead, as if the cockatrice, but since she came to us rather than us stumbling upon her, we don't know where she came from or if she has more of them. Since we came from the North and we didn't run into her, I'm presently guessing she was travelling rather than an inhabitant, but I ask to see if there have been any other incidents with hags in the area. Thank you.

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Date: 2009-07-22 21:31 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public

Forgive the previous entry - I wasn't aware that this was a charmed journal. More care will be taken in the future.

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Date: 2009-07-22 20:14 Subject: (no subject) Security: Public

There is something familiar and strange about York. As I become more and more familiar with the Borderlands, it strikes me how much of Ottery St. Catchpole (the actual town of it) seems to flow through it. There is a quiet, casual sort of chaos that purveys through the area; things get done because they need to and because they've always been and no one wishes to find out what happens when they stop getting done. There is a comfort in routine, and even if some of the ways in which routine is carried out is extraordinary or unconventional, the fact of that the routine remains unbroken is remarkable.

It says something, I believe, about the clockwork that humanity is. Not only do we run internally on clockwork (the heartbeat, circadian rhythm, etc.) but we run our life on clockwork and have EXPECTED life to run like clockwork.

The internal of York, however, reminds me of Diagon Alley. People seem to crowd every nook and cranny, something to be purchased or traded or ogled or awed or baffled by fit in every available space that isn't stone or sky. Again, chaos that seems to run on the internal clockwork of people's needs and desired.

In the end, all there will be is chaos, the order of things pulled apart with thick, wet pops and slick tears by entropy. Some may say that we are rapidly descending already down this path, but I endeavour to encourage everyone struck by this depressing sentiment to look into your own life and see your own clockwork as a model of what the world can be again.

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