Jason St. James (jason_stjames) wrote in sparklediaries, @ 2010-07-15 20:40:00 |
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Current location: | park |
Current mood: | happy |
Current music: | The Beatles, "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" |
Entry tags: | jason st. james |
Life Goes On....(Jason, Bella)
Who: Jason St. James, open
Where: Park near downtown
When: Thursday July 15th, 7 PM
Why: Meeting new people, havin' fun, (breeding plotbunnies)
What: Daimon is celebrating closing on his first house ever by playing Beatles music in the park...after thanking his Patron.
Warnings: Beer, Beatles earworms
He got to the park before sunset, which along with sunrise is the proper time for thank-yous when you've closed an awesome deal on more house than you'll ever bloody need. This, his first house, that is, a Home, complete with Land, that was His, and could not easily be taken away. He had started out life with plenty of memories of curling up in a cardboard box in some Whitechapel back-alley, just to get out of the rain. How old had he been? Eleven? He still had nightmares. But that was going now, going away for bloody well good, because the paper was signed, inspections made, money paid, Done Deal.
It was an enormous place, the interior recently remodeled but the four acres around it still running wild. New skin over old walls: it creaked at night, it had a full attic, it might even possibly be haunted. Four bedrooms. Four! What the hell was he going to do with four bedrooms, besides turn one into an office for seeing patients? He didn't know--didn't care. It was free and clear. Insured, even, in case he was ever really screwed. It was the single weirdest accomplishment of his life, in that it was so mundane: he was now, permanently, Housed.
When he arrived at the park, he gathered stones for a Herm, set them one on the other in a little pile, and then poured a bottle of Retsina over the top. "Thanks, Old Man," he said in Greek, a prayer less meaningful than the libation when it came to the god in question. Much of the purchase had been his own hard work and cleverness, but that couldn't account for all his good fortune, and he knew it.
Once the offering was done, he settled onto a nearby bench and pulled his guitar from its case. He stopped to tune it, humming to himself. In a celebratory mood, he soon began to hum, then strum along, and finally sing:
Desmond has his barrow in the market place...
Molly is the singer in a band...
Desmond says to Molly "Girl, I like your face"
And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on...
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!...
Lala how the life goes on....