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January 20th, 2019


[info]pippintern in [info]repose

Who: Pippin and Frank
What: Pippin is delaying everyone with her user error and Frank steps in
Where: Area 52
When: Friday (slightly backdated)
Warnings: Franks mouth? idk...will update if necessary

You worked this morning you stupid thing! )

[info]sonataind in [info]repose

public.

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.


- Gerard Manley Hopkins

It has been a month since the last poem, so here I am again. Twenty days into the new year and I'm not sure what to make of it. Of course, it is too early to tell.

If someone has a recommendation for a horror movie, preferably playing at the theatre, I would appreciate it.