Carlotta.

"Goddamn the whole fucking world and everyone in it, except you Carlotta."

The last words of William Claude Duncanfield.

(Carlotta, was not his wife, but his mistress.)



Sometimes, everything in life clicks along on bright brass rails. Click clack!
You can feel it moving forward like a determined little train.

Other times...

Well, I can be surprised how many things all go wrong all at once. I'm not terribly horrified, or "here is my life as a house of cards oh god oh god watch them tumble down" panicky. It's more of a sullen squelchly feeling, sitting in my chest, like a toad. Just when I think I've started to enjoy this moment, the toad burps, and I'm reminded, no, enjoyment is for other people.

That's what one gets I suppose. In hell, the smoker is rolled into a cigar and all that.

Well, fuck it. If I have had to make bad decisions, at least I know why it was I made them. That's more than can be said for many.

I don't believe that God hates me. But all the angels of His heavenly host are booing, and throwing old fruit at me, while they watch the play that is my life.

*shrug* I can deal with hecklers. YOU DON'T LIKE IT? YOU CAN GO SHOVE YOUR HALOS UP YOUR HOLIER THAN THOU ANUSES.

Fucking angels. What do they know?