Bring your blue sky back

B5 - Day of the Dead. Watched it this morning.

I was, frankly, a little freaked out. The moment when Londo turned around and saw Adira there was hard to take - it's impossible not to put myself into that situation. What the hell would I say, after all these years? "I had the person responsible killed" - er, no, considering that would be me... Not to mention that I barely survived losing you once. Twice would finish me off for good. Even I'm not that tough.

And if that wasn't enough, Captain Lochley turns out to have lived a chunk of my life as well... Mike and I spent nine months in that burned-out hotel. Ours was called the Hazelwood - they've finished off the demolition and built a block of flats on it now. It was actually pretty good, as junkie-infested squats go - only the ground floor was gutted, once you negotiated the stairs (which could get tricky with the missing places and the holes in the floor) it was still full of all the old hotel stuff - mattresses, bedding, Gideon bibles by the hundred - and it was a lovely old building, too, full of hiding places and little balconies and a really nice, overgrown garden. We once had a bonfire and barbecue out there and every junkie for miles around turned up... one of the good days. I never let myself remember the bad ones.

Nibbled to death by cats walking over my grave at the hour of scampering, that's what. I badly need a dose of the present day, please...

Edit: Squish is on one of his melancholy-howling kicks, too. Either he's reading my mind or he's complaining about the rain. He kind of wants to go outside - he hasn't had a crap yet this morning - but he doesn't want to go badly enough to get rained on yet. Daft dog.

Bring your blue sky back

B5 - Day of the Dead. Watched it this morning.

I was, frankly, a little freaked out. The moment when Londo turned around and saw Adira there was hard to take - it's impossible not to put myself into that situation. What the hell would I say, after all these years? "I had the person responsible killed" - er, no, considering that would be me... Not to mention that I barely survived losing you once. Twice would finish me off for good. Even I'm not that tough.

And if that wasn't enough, Captain Lochley turns out to have lived a chunk of my life as well... Mike and I spent nine months in that burned-out hotel. Ours was called the Hazelwood - they've finished off the demolition and built a block of flats on it now. It was actually pretty good, as junkie-infested squats go - only the ground floor was gutted, once you negotiated the stairs (which could get tricky with the missing places and the holes in the floor) it was still full of all the old hotel stuff - mattresses, bedding, Gideon bibles by the hundred - and it was a lovely old building, too, full of hiding places and little balconies and a really nice, overgrown garden. We once had a bonfire and barbecue out there and every junkie for miles around turned up... one of the good days. I never let myself remember the bad ones.

Nibbled to death by cats walking over my grave at the hour of scampering, that's what. I badly need a dose of the present day, please...

Edit: Squish is on one of his melancholy-howling kicks, too. Either he's reading my mind or he's complaining about the rain. He kind of wants to go outside - he hasn't had a crap yet this morning - but he doesn't want to go badly enough to get rained on yet. Daft dog.