Wednesday, June 3, 2009

I'm the only one who can help me find my feet again

(As always, click the small pics for the larger versions.)

you're in the black
in the black, in the black
ain't it lovely, baby?


My workspace grows dusty from disuse, now that I'm no longer working in it. I'd be depressed over that, but I can't say the changes haven't put me in a better place.

not coming back
you're in the black
ain't you--free?
no more threats, no more debts
you're in the black, baby


I still work as hard on the grid, maybe harder, but I have more to show for it. I still say it's more positive than negative.

you left it all behind
but you're still fine
yeah, you're fine
still--


Photobucket

(Em left to right--my old rate sheet holder, a slideshow in the center comprised of all possible different looks, the slideshow over the fireplace of the more 'pin-up' styled photos and pictures.)

we wish we could see you
we thought you might find time to
write us now and then
you're free
now and you're lonely
we love you but please do not
ask us to pretend
come home if you want a friend


Every moment we live, we're that much farther away from where we started. Each step forward erases the way back. And I've said I'm closing the doors on nostalgia, and mostly, I have.

I'm right on task, since you asked
I'm doing great, really I am
I don't think, I don't blink
I just press on, press on


Pictures I find, I throw away (or most of them). Notecards, too. I don't need to be reminded of what I'm trying to forget anyway.

I'm doing fine, I'm not inclined
to crack any time soon, baby--
you left us all behind
but we're still fine
I swear we're fine


But this was different. This was...part of what made me, me, in a sense, for nearly two years. Work and play, love and loss, confusion, betrayal, submission, defiance, diamonds on the counterpane and always leaving last. It was a definition.

we cry for no reason
late at night when we run out of
thoughtless things to do
You're free now and you're only--
won't you please come home so we can
cry with you?
I hear that you cry too


Photobucket

Originally, I'd thrown up art that was floating around in my inventory. At that time I didn't have a dedicated art folder (now, I do). Of everything I put up on the walls, this one (of a very few others) stayed. I don't know who the redhead is, but she was pretty enough to keep.

(The deminude in the Sailor Moon strawberry-blonde hair? That would be me, the first year dancing at the Enigma. I was going through a Serendipity phase.)

we cannot bring you back when home's not home
we cannot make you pay debts you will not own
we cannot reason with the unforeseen
and we can't compromise when there's no in-between


This was my world once, everything within these four walls. The more toys were added, the more the price raised, but it wasn't so much about what I was being paid, as it was about whom I brought there. Only one first-time client ever got there, and that was only because he wanted an act of such startling depravity, it was the only place I could think to bring him. We need such comforts, in such times.

but we wanted to see you
we thought you might find time to
write us now and then


Photobucket

(Two more pictures, doing my best to slide past Photobucket's bizarre anti-nipple guard. Behind the screening, by the way, is a lovely little DevPose bed. Surprisingly versatile.)

you're free now, and you're lonely
oh, I love you but please do not
ask me to pretend
come home if you want a friend--


But this was it--a pattern of furniture arranged, that persisted across many personal skyboxen and homes. I would feel as if I were missing something vital if I didn't have a bed, a couch, a fireplace at least in any space--as if I'd left something deeply important out, that I would have to search down and return to my home spaces.

you're free now, and you're lonely
we love you but please do not ask us to pretend
come home if you want a friend


Oddly, I never reproduced the shower, though I did sneak up several times to take one. Between clients, mainly, or if going from a session to one of my abodes. Especially if I were seeing someone I cared for later. Some things are ingrained.

you're in the black
in the black
in the black
ain't you lovely, baby, ain't you free?


Photobucket

The vampire platinum Sexgen, clean lines to match the contemporary look of the rest of the room. More than twenty thousand Lindens, sitting up there, and there weren't many situations it couldn't handle. I couldn't romp with more than four, for instance, though the amount of things that could be done with three or two people were daunting and dizzying at times.)

we cry for no reason
late at night when we run out of
thoughtless things to do
we're free now, and you're lonely
please come home so we can cry with you
I hear that you cry too...


It's still up. I told the fellow hosting it that he could take it down, it's all on his prims anyway...but I also said I'd miss it if it were gone.

He agreed. So for now, the ToyBox is still up...and empty.

(Lyrics from Marian Call's "In the Black", transcribed from the video--couldn't find 'em on the net, but hey, you can go find the album on iTunes or her site.)

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