August 1, 1997

Feels kinda neat to be able to take an entire month, fold it up neatly and put it away; and start a new one. Haven't done that for a long time.

Markleford put it neatly when he got a new journal, blank and empty and clean. "It's kinda like a whole new life in front of me..." I guess life is like a journal, you can write anything you want into it, poetry, meaningful things, or graffitti or trash or tears or horror. Or is it actually the other way around?

Markleford also wrote me back a letter that I just can't describe. It's given me closure, though, on the relationship, on the past. I can now just go on. He managed to convey all the love, joy, pain, loss, and rage of the last two years in less than ten lines of his own writing. One quote. From Sin City of all things. But it worked. "Always and never." Heh, that should be enough for you comics junkies to work it out. The rest of you can just wonder.

Markleford was always the precision writer. Terse, compact, overloadable language. Too overloadable. Say too little with me and the damaged parts of me will read all kinds of things into it. Which has always been part of the problem between him and I, along with the whole issue of values. Not the PC values or the nebulous 'family values' or the more nebulous 'moral values', but the value one places on every action, every word choice, every moment, every experience, and every view of the universe and that which is within it. We're just very different. I guess I'm learning, the hard way, that just because we're different doesn't mean that we can't care.

Thenomain always demanded that if I said things about the bad parts of him, that I should say the good, too. Seems a fair thing to do for everyone. So know that Mark/Markleford is a very keen person, too. I just have problems communicating with him, sometimes.


Had the oddest dream last night. Was in a rickety old house, dark, damp, dusty and crooked and divided into tiny, cramped rooms. I lived there with my sister and my mother, and they were out doing something. I was exhausted, tossing, and turning on a pallet on the floor in an upper floor room, whimpering a little in my tiredness and trying, nearly futilely to sleep in the summer heat.

I heard a truck drive up. A man get out and the crunch of his footsteps on gravel as he walked to the front door and then he started pounding on it, saying something about him being there to do some work on the house. I knew that Mom hadn't called anyone to do anything, so I was terrified. I hid in the darkness, under the thin blanket, knowing he couldn't see me or hear me if I stayed still. I wished him away...

Instead, he broke open the front door. For a moment, I just froze in my bed and then I got up, shaking, frightened, enraged, too. I managed to get to the top of the stairs, finding a stick that I carried like a club. My heart was pounding but I managed to stammer, "Get out..." and it sounded ridiculously soft to me, so I tried to shout, "Get out!"

... and I woke up with those words on my lips and the effort it took to actually say them coiling my body up tight. But not before finally realizing that the man that walked in was a man of light, with the sunlight following him into the dark house; and with it was the feeling that he was there to pull me into the light from the dark, cramped confines of my 'house'. Very, very vaguely, I had the feeling he might have been Markleford, grown workman buff.

Yeah. A weird dream.


Turns out that the neat open and close paragraph thing works best with Internet Explorer 4.0 beta 2. <laughter> It's kinda funny what happens to beta testers.

Amuses me a little bit that Cera says she puts too much detail into her journal, when, for me, it's not nearly enough. I like the details of people's lives, the taste, smell, touch of them rather than just the high end thoughts or value judgements. I'm a sensation junkie. I read to experience more than I can in just my own life, rich as it is anyway.

Read something of Sean's the other day... Opulence and enjoyed it a lot. Thought I'd point anyone that's reading this to a somewhat crudely drawn, but most excellent (in my not so humble opinion) comicbook. I really enjoy how she haunts my thoughts and my archtypes.

I'm also getting involved in a MUSH based on In Nomine . I've just been accepted to play Eli, whose name means an offer lifted up to God, and who is the archangel who's word is: Creation. It'll be interesting and quite a challange, I think.

© 1997 by Liralen Li

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