Eating Clothes

The Prologue













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In the morning



Mr. Black: Hello, Marlowe. Are you very well today?

Marlowe: I suppose I've been worse.



Mr. Black: What is that you are writing? Something about Elena?

Marlowe: No, nothing, and don't speak of her to me.



Mr. Black: No? Well, are you aware that your appearance seems somewhat more neglected than usual?



Marlowe: Thanks.

Mr. Black: I'm glad that you appreciate my honesty. You could repay the favour, if you like.

Marlowe: Why not tell me about your adventures today instead?

Mr. Black: That does sound pleasant. If you insist, I could tell you some things.



Marlowe: Yes, tell me some things.



Mr. Black: Hm, that does not seem like a very natural position for listening.



Mr. Black: I said that does not seem like--

Marlowe: For the love of heaven, be quiet. She's coming!



Elena: Hello, on the bed. Who's there?

Mr. Black: It is I. Completely alone and talking to myself very emphatically.



Elena: Hello, Mr. Black. What are these lumps in the covers?

Mr. Black: Probably explosives. But O, Elena, where are the rest of your clothes?

Elena: Have you seen Marlowe?



Mr. Black: Has he eaten all your clothes and left you with naught but expensive underwear and furs?

Elena: Something like that, but much more delicious.



Mr. Black: No wonder he feels ill. Imagine eating all those clothes.

Elena: Well, I have been quite ravenous myself, as of late.



Mr. Black: Please don't tell me you are seeking Marlowe in order to eat his clothes. That would be awful! What will he wear if you consume all his garments?

Elena: Have no fear, I will devise a plan. Perhaps after I have my way with him, he shall wear bed sheets, like these.



Marlowe: Gah.

Elena: You, Sir, have been hiding from me!



Marlowe: I surrender.

Devour my garments,

O fairest of lycanthropes.

Tear me all to ravished pieces,

until mere choked nothings remain.



Mr. Black: Egads. This garment gobbling must stop. Not only does the habit seem wantonly destructive, but it also makes no sense at all.



Elena: Marlowe, is that how I have made you feel?



Marlowe: Just recently, I've been finding myself tired and distracted. It has become hard to be alone to read or write.

Mr. Black: O, but I love reading.



Marlowe: If you fetch me a book, I will read it to you.

Mr. Black: I have a better idea; I will go so you may finish this conversation in privacy, as is proper. Then, later, we can read something.

[Exeunt Mr. Black]



Elena: I wish you had told me. I thought you liked being interrupted.

Marlowe: O, I do--rather to excess, and especially when you wear that red thing. But therein lies my difficulty. How does one dare say that something is too enjoyable?

Elena: I have many odd desires, and you are patient with them all. Why not let me repay the favour sometimes?



Marlowe: I suppose I could try that.

Elena: Please do.





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Then later, as promised...



And at last.







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A Note: The last image in the prologue uses part of a picture that I took of Rodin's Gates of Hell.

Also, *gloats* Marlowe finally has books. Unfortunately, Elena's corset arrived on the very same evening.

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Waiting for Sunrise

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This started out as a response to a monthly contest on DA, but in the process of trying to make an entry that would not be a complete embarrassment, some personal ideas began to take shape.

I had quite a bit of trouble sleeping during the trip mentioned in my last entry, and now that I am back home, I have tended to fall asleep in the morning and wake up in the evening or late afternoon.

A proper photoshoot of Roderick has also been on my To Do list for a long time. I find his presence is softer and more unsettling than Marlowe. He suggests a kind of alienation that is similar to Eric, but where Eric would like to make connections with others, Roderick seems happier in the quiet of his own company. In the above pictures, I've tried to hint a little at the dark loveliness of his introversion.

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Mountains in Motion

Whenever we drive through the mountains, I like to take pictures.

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I now have hundreds of pictures of mountains from various trips to visit family. Many of them are blurry or have a telephone pole in the middle (and usually that telephone pole is blurry too)-- but there are always a few haunting remembrances that surface with thunderous, lonely force.

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