"Two Eyes that Shine Like the Moon, but the Clouds Never Let them Come Out..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

...Lillie is getting the Crack! Hamlet musical. The whole thing. How much does this rock? I mean, how much does this utterly totally impossibly win?

*bweeeeeeeeeeees*

So, yes, in other news...!

I am exhausted, and I don't know why, but I am utterly exhausted. I have had no time at all to-day, just as I imagined, but still, that oughtn't be enough, ought it?

I have been forbidden on pain of death to sing Artificial Flowers, especially if I should sing it the way Bobby Darin does. On the other hand, I am no longer forbidden to play the Crack!Hamlet musical; Waen has actually become so fond of some of the songs that she plays them voluntarily, very often.

I have even more things to send, now, but no envelopes or boxes. My collection is failing me rather. I shall have to make a search on Thursday indeed (I shall have no time to-morrow). Mum was going to come with me to work to-morrow, but something came up and she can't. She has been promising that eventually she will since last April; the trouble is that my work is almost exactly like her work, so she already knows what it is, and says it would be rather a busman's holiday. ;_; But I want her to meet my people, especially Anna.

Anna said if I should give her a photograph of myself, she'll give me one of her. ^_________^ Then I could show you--! And I should not ever have to worry about forgetting her. I should not, of course, but I really do like the idea of having a photograph of her. I shall try to find one of myself that's halfway decent.

The socken are upsetting me. I have never been this upset about any of them before. Augh. ;_____________;

I don't think I have the energy to do anything to-morrow, and yet there's more to do to-morrow than to-day. I shall never be free (of course I shall; I'm being very silly). I'm hungry, and I can't think why, although perhaps it's the fact that we had supper at five because of my French class, and it was very light... but still, but still.

Ngg.

I need a fire and a mug of cocoa and my sweater and a book, that's what I need.

Unfortunately, I shall not be getting them.

Comments

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

I'm sorry about the Dane. ;______;

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

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...It's... fine...

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

...is not...

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

No, it is...

...my heart's not in too many pieces.

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

I'mso,sosorry. *clings*

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

...

...

too late.

...this pretends it not all our fault, or his fault, doesn't it?

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

...

...it's not. We blame ourselves; he blames himself.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

...

...poor rosencrantz.

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

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...that too. ;____; -- Hamlet, you don't know about that.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

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...God. I'm sorry about this. It should not have happened. it makes me ache

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

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...No-- don't. We all agreed on it. It-- it's all right. I know.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

...

God. I know. But I want them to be the way they were someday. ;_; I know they can't be fixed, but I wish to heaven they could be-- the way they were. All right, you know. I just-- I'm sorry. the time is out of joint.

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

Maybe-- someday. Someday. And it really did all start with Beeklzebub-- so I'm sorry. But... perhaps, in a bit, when this all calms down and the death stops, they can go ago for a spell. ...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just started laughing.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

...

...Maybe? Someday? Oh. --how? *clings* I don't even--remember-- oh. I wish they could, I so terribly wish they could. No. you oughtn't've. *taps lightly*

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

I don't know-- I don't, but they love eachother, and... and Hamlet's not able to be very happy, we know, but-- as they were. *clings* Because-- that's when the fight, the doubt, Rosencrantz all began... And perhaps they can; it would not be, perfect, perhaps, but it would be quiet, and steady, and good for soft conversations and warm embraces. ...Sorry. I blame One Minute Hamlet.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

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They do, shouldn't that count for something? Horatio knew how to have a balance, knew how to make things work, even when they weren't happy--he kept things steady. I don't know what we'll do-- *clingsback* Oh. Oh. You're right, you're--oh. But it's so much Horatio's fault, even with all of that. The first time, perhaps, there was some excuse, but the second fadetoblack, the humbling, the praying, his own death-- he invited it all. >_< But I wish, I wish, I wish--just like that. Oh. You can't always blame oneminuteHamlet. Someday you'll have to start blaming fourhourHamlet.

[silverdragon262.livejournal.com]

...

Yes! And it must, I think, or else they would have fallen apart a long time ago. He did, and I think that, sometimes, the moments where Hamlet was sane, or sane-ish, or smiled, were enough. *whimper* -- I know. And I rather wish I'd never-- ...but. Maybe if it just never happens again? -- I think... I think that might be doable? If Horatio wanted it. But I love fourhourHamlet...

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

... ... ... sorry about that.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

No, don't be, it's---

I've got library paste, I'll put all the hearts back together, I swear.

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

i was honestly not going to post that, but then -- i was also honestly not going to let ros write a love letter. puppets are insistent little devils.

-- oh, good. library paste solves everything. that and duct tape, but, library paste sounds better for the hearts of literary characters.

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you did. It's helping Horatio realise how horrible he's been. --Yes, I'm--afraid they are.

Yes, yes, doesn't it? If it can put pages back in, it should certainly be able to--yes.

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

... does horatio need any help with that? (ros is of the opinion -- well --)

how romantic, to think of the heart like a thing with pages ...

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

Well. Not--not precisely, you know. but. (poor ros--)

Literary hearts are pages. I think.

Oh, dear.

[little-lady-d.livejournal.com]

exactly. feeling horrible is, like, horatio's thing -- he doesn't need an emo!rosencrantz to help. (but don't feel too sorry for ros, you might over-step yourself.)

heart-literature would be -- but what does the heart read?

... oh, dear?

[rainbowjehan.livejournal.com]

well, true. But his usual feeling horrible is just that--everyday guilt. This calls for special guilt, and there ros is very helpful. (I don't care--!)

Philosophy in the sky.

...sigh.