one handed man

This, more than anything else, is what I have never understood about your people. You can roll dice, and understand that the whole game may hinge on one turn of a die. You deal out cards, and say that all a man’s fortune for the night may turn upon one hand. But a man’s whole life, you sniff at, and say, what, this nought of a human, this fisherman, this carpenter, this thief, this cook, why, what can they do in the great wide world? And so you putter and sputter your lives away, like candles burning in a draught.

The Fool, Royal Assassin by Robin Hobb.

This seems very relevant in the current political climate.

third or fourth consecutive night of Real Bad Dreams:

  • a hatch in the middle of a parking lot that led into some underground cavern? only with no stairs or ladder leading down. a couple older women made a young man and woman just jump through the opening, like a twenty foot drop. heard bones breaking. half of dude’s face was crushed. he kept talking, looked exasperated
  • a woman (one of the women who made the couple jump into the cavern) letting a man w/ one hand fuck her from behind on some railroad tracks, apparently in exchange for allowing her to have her pit bull eat some more flesh off his wrist stump (the dog having human skin in his teeth somehow had something to do w/ aforementioned cavern couple/was absolutely necessary to the plot of the dream)
  • one-handed man was post-coital grinning as the dog ate part of him
  • a white blonde teenage boy looking for his little brother. evil older women from before had something to do w/ the disappearance. i went into a police station to talk to a really condescending english detective about it and left screaming at him. tom hardy was there

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.