A last peg and writing musing

There are days when I open the WordPress post and stare at the blank screen, wondering what to write. There are so many ideas germinating and getting lost as I start penning about them. Happily playing the waiting game. Writing shouldn’t be forced and it feels like alcohol playing havoc to the mind, spurting like the gin I am having right now. Spot on! I’m having a gin after a year plus today…

You and I,

raiding the streets at night;

whistling an unknown tune

to the breeze passing by.

Screaming out in delight,

words snatched upon sight, 

our howls filtering slowly through the ink-black night.

And so we scaled tall mountains,

put up a big fight

though we knew our stories would be lost over time.

But to just you and I,

it’s unforgettable, our last crime.

------

Of my place Of my pain Of my surroundings Of my unemployment

I want to leave like I used to See the world with warmth like I did

All I see is exhaustion In every movement, thought, and word I don’t want to move I don’t want to think I don’t want to speak

I`ll do my best not to be a party pooper. Hopefully there`ll be a lot of fun activities we can take part in and that will be the focus of our conversations. “Oh you should have seen the look on your face!” “When you zagged, that was the time you should have zigged!”

Something kind of like that.

For a question asked so many times, the answer was too obvious. Whenever asked, Clint always shrugged and gave an offhand joke about perching like a bird of prey, playing dumb until the curiosity passed. A part of him did like heights solely for the bird’s eye view. There was nothing that’d top a Sunday sunset in Manhattan where the city lights would get brighter, the traffic would slow down, the sky would blur into oranges and pinks. There was nothing like the intricacy of the city blocks, merging together into one sprawling, vast sea of concrete for miles around him. There was nothing like the breeze when he’d find himself up on the rooftop, alone and late at night — but he wasn’t truly alone. No one’s ever alone in a city that never sleeps.

In the heat of battle, there’s no time for gawking around. Even so, Clint was often stationed on the rooftops of office blocks or the balcony of some glossy skyscraper, whether it was under command or out of his own doing. There were dangers, sure, he knew that more than anyone who’d chastise him or remind him to be careful. He could fall. He could be knocked off his own feet. The building could simply collapse under him at any given second, taking him down with the tirades of rubble. He knew all of that. He went through that.

The tactical reasons always won out. He made a list once, when he was stuck in medical after an unexpected explosion took out the apartment block underneath him. It made him feel better to scribble down the reasons why he did the things he did, even when both his legs were wrapped up in plaster for weeks. Made him feel justified, even.

‘REASONS TO SAY TO PHIL WHEN HE WILL YELL AT ME

I can see further away. Target had no chanse of hiding

Can jump on target - elument element of surprise

When I shoot the ➹ moves down faster

want to try out new grappling ➹ if I fall

Faster to Run round on roofs than on the street’