Testing, testing... absdhdlfglhhgfghlht (>'.')> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ಠ_ಠ . . . . . . . Book's full, but it's nice to not have to carry around pens and paper. (I guess, if you don't mind the tiny keyboard on this thing. I could use the virtual one instead, but it's so, so s l o w.) Come on down this time, he said. It's peaceful, he said. I mean, relatively speaking, maybe. The place doesn't seem so bad-- the overgrowth's even pretty, in a way, though I can see why the residents might not think so. "You can drive out nature with a pitchfork, but it always comes roaring back again," and what. I saw a wizard there. The hat part of the wizard, mostly, though I did get a better look at them when they left. (Him? I'm never sure about Glitch.) There was a billboard, a hat snake, some butterflies, and (between the vertigo and spacelag) I don't remember much else. It gave me a weird sort of nostalgia to see, really. I couldn't say why. Some Floran offered to go on a hunt for a giant bug (?) with the two of us. I wasn't really feeling it-- call me skeptical, but I don't know if I really want to put myself in that position with a Floran I ain't know at all. Void, I wouldn't want to put myself in that position with a strange human. Luckily, Vecks seemed to have the same idea. Not looking forward to another night on the ship, but I guess it's easier than trying to find a bed on a strange planet.
Did I do something wrong? Needed to file some paperwork (I don't even remember what for, probably money-related. Isn't it always?). I was giving Pupkin his medicine (p.s. don't believe them when they tell you it's avesmingo flavored. He squirmed, I squirted it into my own face like a dumbass, and it doesn't taste a damn thing like avesmingo. Also? It burns like hell of it gets in your eyes) so I let Vecks handle the boring stuff. While I'm sitting there looking like a pile of boiled nonsense with a faceful of veterinary antibiotics, I hear him calling over to ask me how to spell out my full name. Between wrestling with a cranky cub, trying to refill the syringe, and shout back to him, I gave up. "T-o-r-- Just use yours." In retrospect, I should've taken the chance to change everything. Let Aissa Torres(Mason?)'s name die for good, and make something for myself. It wouldn't be the first time I was offered an opportunity to do so. It also wouldn't be the first time I ended up holding onto it like an itchy shirt that never quite makes it into the donation bin. I didn't really think much of what I said at the time, though. We're a team, and it feels like we always have been. We've been together long enough-- we've got a ship in common. For awhile, we practically had kids. I think back to D. and J.-- Void, even just back to having dinner with E.-- and it feels like looking at snaps of someone else's history from lifetimes ago. I've met entire planets' worth of people since I ended up spaced. I don't want anybody else. It got kind of quiet right after I shouted out to him, so I cleaned myself up and went back to medicating a sick cub. Maybe it was too forward of me. I shouldn't've assumed like that. Have I been misinterpreting everything? We've never talked about that kind of thing before. Was it weird of me to say?
styptic powder stik-wrap sterile water syringes(?) absorbent padding granola bars (chips optional) clean jars dental pick? check for old, clean paintbrush tear-stop mesh vest check for ammunition (slugs, not plasma?)
"You two lovers?" I didn't answer. Looked at Vecks. Figured I'd let him set the pace-- were we public, or only an item to each other? I've never been very good with that kind of thing. Wouldn't've blamed him if he'd opted for plausible deniability, either. "Yep," he said, not hesitating a second. Well, shit. Last time someone asked that question, I was still with whatsisface and he hemmed and hawed about it. I know I've been with Vecks longer, and we've definitely been through more, but it did my heart good to hear it anyway. I know that there's all too often a difference between what someone feels and what they're willing to say to a stranger. Kind of surprises me sometimes, how much feelings-detritus I still carry this long after the fact. Makes me feel like a bit of a fool, too, considering the fact that I'm damn near certain he doesn't remember me at all (if he's even still alive). I guess it just goes to show-- a couple of careless words (or none at all) can do a number on a girl. A terrible thought can have a terribly long career.
i saw a boppy today! This was after I beamed down to kill some time while Vecks concluded a deal-- I packed some snacks and figured I'd hit the library. It'd been awhile since I'd read anything that wasn't either in digital format or falling apart at the seams from use. I had to use my PDA to scan things into a readable language, but still. It felt nice to hold an honest-to-the-indifferent-gods book again. Ended up stopping by the library's sitting area afterward, once it had cleared out a bit. A guy with a dog showed up (I think he's a priest of some kind), among others, and I ended up talking to this other girl who was, if I remember right, visiting her mother. Pretty chill times, all told. The doggo-guy mentioned being the custodian of some form of church, though it sounded more like a confessional and meditation space than a house of religion (by which I mean, he didn't really roll up with a whole lot of dogma loaded and ready to go like a door-to-door missionary). I might have to check it out. Heaven knows I could use a little guided reflection. Before he left, we got to talking about dogs. I told him about Waffles, my big idiot baby, and how I'd come by him when he was a pup. (Thinking back on it made me miss Crim-- I hope that red goofball's doing alright, wherever he is.) The dude mentions babies needing a mother, and Shit. I have a hard enough time trying not to think of the three of them as it is. Not a day passes when something doesn't remind me and give me a hollow, aching lump in my throat. Hells, I sold my last ship to unload some of the memories haunting it (not that that worked terribly well). Fortunately, Vecks showed up not long after. Ship was loaded, and it was time to roll out and make a delivery. I think I'm gonna visit that church.
Vecks turned up beat all to hell last night. Fortunately he'd literally signed up for it, so I didn't have to unpack The Knock and go... well, knocking. Plus he got a friend out of the ordeal (and had the sense to get himself patched up at a proper hospital before he came back-- no me-trying-to-convince-him-to-recuperate-properly-while-he-grumbles-on-the-couch this time. I don't know if I could sit through The Moleman Prophecy again). I'm glad he's alright. Sound's like he gave as good as he got, too. I probably would've been proud if I'd seen it. Not that I'm not now, of course. Still. Dogg wonders why I told him I needed my own meditation room. I swear to the indifferent gods. Chillspot selfie.
Okay, so. I maybe don't have room to talk. Still, I'm scraped up from a perfectly reasonable fall off of a hoverbike and not because I thought it'd be a rad idea to do punches on a floran for awhile. So I still come out ahead. Anyway, I saw this advert for a place-- not open yet, but existent nonetheless-- and figured I'd check it out. Wasn't bad. Everything there's purely in the service of handling race-goers, but it's got a first aid station, a mechanic, and a diner with decent drinks. I'm not gonna complain. I'm not much for racing, though I've killed an afternoon at a track (... and at a hovertruck rally, but I'll be dead and buried before I'll admit it) once or twice. I met this girl, she offered to take me on a spin around the course "and get [me] a view you can't see from a chair." Honestly, it was pretty fun. Flying over the ground at what felt like a million miles an hour, wind in my hair, sun on my back, all that poetic horsetrash. You feel me? Then we ended up ass-over-teakettle in the sand. She didn't seem worse for wear (the benefits of hovercross leathers, I guess). Got a little worried when I said I felt dizzy, and brought me back to the triage station. After roundly and soundly convincing the attending doctor(?) I was not, in point of fact, concussed, broken, or otherwise seriously injured, he let me go. Maybe I'll go back when there's more to watch. The burgers were pretty rad.
Hahahahakillme Saw my old boss today, believe it or not. The Russian arms dealer, the one with the plushies. I was at Fernbrook, minding my own business, painting a bunch of nonsense onto the side of the fountain with some water (it's totally a thing. It helps me relax), and ZOOP, there he is. Well, okay. Not zoop. I heard a familiar voice, couldn't place it, turned around, and there he was. Turns out, he doesn't remember much. I don't blame him-- it's been awhile, and I didn't work for him for long, you know? Still, it's weird how many dudes I know who've ended up with amnesia. At this rate, I'm going to begin taking it personally. I couldn't tell who was more mortified, me or him. I mean, it started out all, "Hey, I think I know you!" and then progressed to me having to explain how, which then progressed to me having to explain how I stopped knowing him, which led to him laying on the ground. At least we parted as friends? Not sure if I should tell Vecks about all this-- I mean, who Omega is. I know I've mentioned him before, but not by name. It'd probably be way less weird for everyone concerned if I just let that detail continue to slip right on by. Anyhow. I quit painting nothing after awhile and went inside to curl up with a book. It turned out to be less "curl up" than it was "sit on the floor," but still. I found a neat collection of botanical information-- kind of made me wish I'd learned more about the plants on the planets I've bopped around on. Maybe taken some cuttings, tried to root some on the ship. Liberty Mills was all pavement, but we've been some prettier places. It would've been nice to collect some mementos, you dig? Saw some poor hylotl girl almost bite the grass, too-- it looked like she fell off one of the shelves and hit the floor like a ton of bricks. She seemed alright afterward (at least, like she wasn't going to die of anything that wasn't embarrassment), poor thing. Some other dogg showed up awhile later. I don't know how long (I was surprisingly engrossed in reading about weeds). He burst through the door looking like some kind of tree-dwelling vagrant, plonked himself down by the stairs, busted out some fruit and a camping stove, and decided to hang out. Seemed like a nice guy, though. Not big on small talk, doesn't know zilch point shit about libraries, but he gave me some fruit and that was pretty rad of him. Then he started going on about bunks? And corporation? And long story short Vecks is used to me bringing home strays but as yet none of those have included a scruffy dirty dude with a camping stove. Hand to the indifferent gods, it sounded like he thought I was the only dogg on the entire planet. I led him downstairs and showed him the front door, and he wandered off... Here's hoping he found someone who could help him out, because I didn't even know where to begin. And then I watched an alien hobo take a bath in a fountain. The end; no moral. what the hell is my life
