starphotographs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starphotographs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2016-08-18 08:43 am
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2016-08-18 08:43 am
Meme Party 19, Olympic Gold 11
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Fair Aug 18th Village stage: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/rilokiley/paintspeeling.html), Canvas
Characters: Martin, Corwin is mentioned.
Colors: Meme party 19 (Feels Bad Man), Olympic Gold 11 (village)
Word Count: 1,000ish
Rating: PG-13 (I guess?)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Martin tries to survive in a motel, and remembers better days
Note: I think I’m getting some of last year’s momentum back, finally. :P
Homeostasis Follies
It’s been half a week since I tacked all the towels and sheets over the windows. I’m still trying to figure out if it helps.
Yesterday, I almost felt fine. (Or what passes for it, anyway.) Today I woke up feeling like I was being microwaved, reflexively rolled off the bed, and vomited in the ice bucket until it felt like my insides were going to rip apart and fall out. Then I dragged myself to the bathroom, turned on the water, and sat in a cold shower until I felt a bit better. Plus a little extra, long enough that I started getting lightheaded and confused. I wrapped myself in my remaining towel and sat on the toilet lid until I thawed out a little. Then I got up, emptied and washed the ice bucket, and went downstairs for some fucking ice.
The pavement shimmered and wavered in the sun. The blue pool looked stagnant; probably felt like a cup of coffee that got poured and sat forgotten for an hour. The sky was almost white with sun. My black shirt and sweats were broiling me like a compost box. I closed my eyes, leaned my head against the ice machine, and waited for the bucket to fill.
Okay. I think I finally know what you were talking about.
*****
I used to have a lot of faith that my body would take care of me. I didn’t know I even had this faith, because I didn’t know any different. When it was hot, I got hot. When it was cold, I got cold. When I moved or waited, it was bound to change, so I didn’t really give a shit.
Corwin didn’t have such an easy time, and I could get really impatient about it. Especially the summer he followed us to Vietnam.
I guess it was some kind of work-study thing, but I never knew if it was official. The truth is, my dad probably just liked him and wanted to teach him things, and maybe have an entertaining gofer while he touched base with all his assorted overseers and underlings. So, along came Corwin. We shared a room in the facility’s quarters and drove each other halfway over the edge.
Also, it was steamed-shower hot all the time, and I it’s not like I didn’t notice. I just didn’t give a fuck. I had pitstains down to my ass, but they were invisible on my black shirts and didn’t slow me down. There was so much to do that I almost didn’t feel it, just because I was too busy trying to do everything. I wanted to take the light rail and meet my cousins so we could dick around at the beach. I wanted to go into town and see what they had at the lunch carts. Watch every shuttle launch. Go to whatever building my dad was working in and bug him the whole time. Go hiking with my mom. Play baseball and frisbee with my dad and all the other rocket scientists. Sit and drink coffee at that one place that had about fifteen lazy fans spinning on the ceiling. I didn’t have time to sit stewing in my own sweat.
Meanwhile, Corwin was turning into a squinting, cringing cave troll in dark glasses. Pale and damp as one of those blind cave salamanders. He only really went outside to move from one building to another, like someone trying to avoid nuclear fallout.
I did manage to get him out of the apartment a few times. To the beach once, to some gathering my mom’s family was having, across the facility so I could show him the underground tunnels that connected most of the buildings. Those, he took to right away. I also tried to get him to come with me when I went to get drunk on my uncle’s boat, but that’s where he drew the line.
Even when I could drag him out somewhere, he always ended up saying he wasn’t feeling well and wandering off to find somewhere dark to lie down.
And I didn’t understand it. Sure, it was hot, but we were down at the wide part of the world, the curve of the planet holding us up to the sun. What the hell did he expect? That he’d die of mild discomfort, and I’d be liable?
I think I just thought he was a giant killjoy.
*****
God, if you could only see me now.
All day, I heat up like bloated roadkill. All night, I freeze like a reptile. Truth be told, I don’t much feel like getting drunk on some stranger’s boat, either. I apologized in my head a few times.
...And then I don’t really know what happened. I guess I just went and fainted, because I was lying on the hot pavement in front of the machine, wet and surrounded by half-melted ice. A guy I’d seen around the motel a few times, dressed in trunks and all ready to hop into that disgusting, warmed-over pool, is shaking me back and forth, asking over and over again if I’m alright, if I need help, if I want an ambulance.
What I want is for him to stop shaking me. My overcooked brain, melted and sloshing in my skull. I slap his hand away, sit up, press a handful of ice against my forehead, and close my eyes for a while. Then, before I realize what’s happening, I unceremoniously puke down the front of my shirt. The questions are getting louder. I want to deck the stupid asshole, but my arms aren’t listening so well.
I pretend he never saw anything. I refill the bucket, snap “fuck off” through my teeth, and stagger back up to my room where I can biodegrade in private.
Just like I planned when I got here.
I take another shower, before the smell gets a chance to set off my stomach again. I turn on the television, crawl under the blankets, and start eating my ice cubes.
Who knows what’ll be different tomorrow? How viciously the sun will burn away the clouds. How my body might betray me again.
But, for now, it’s finally just right.
Story: Corwin and Friends
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Fair Aug 18th Village stage: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/rilokiley/paintspeeling.html), Canvas
Characters: Martin, Corwin is mentioned.
Colors: Meme party 19 (Feels Bad Man), Olympic Gold 11 (village)
Word Count: 1,000ish
Rating: PG-13 (I guess?)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Martin tries to survive in a motel, and remembers better days
Note: I think I’m getting some of last year’s momentum back, finally. :P
It’s been half a week since I tacked all the towels and sheets over the windows. I’m still trying to figure out if it helps.
Yesterday, I almost felt fine. (Or what passes for it, anyway.) Today I woke up feeling like I was being microwaved, reflexively rolled off the bed, and vomited in the ice bucket until it felt like my insides were going to rip apart and fall out. Then I dragged myself to the bathroom, turned on the water, and sat in a cold shower until I felt a bit better. Plus a little extra, long enough that I started getting lightheaded and confused. I wrapped myself in my remaining towel and sat on the toilet lid until I thawed out a little. Then I got up, emptied and washed the ice bucket, and went downstairs for some fucking ice.
The pavement shimmered and wavered in the sun. The blue pool looked stagnant; probably felt like a cup of coffee that got poured and sat forgotten for an hour. The sky was almost white with sun. My black shirt and sweats were broiling me like a compost box. I closed my eyes, leaned my head against the ice machine, and waited for the bucket to fill.
Okay. I think I finally know what you were talking about.
I used to have a lot of faith that my body would take care of me. I didn’t know I even had this faith, because I didn’t know any different. When it was hot, I got hot. When it was cold, I got cold. When I moved or waited, it was bound to change, so I didn’t really give a shit.
Corwin didn’t have such an easy time, and I could get really impatient about it. Especially the summer he followed us to Vietnam.
I guess it was some kind of work-study thing, but I never knew if it was official. The truth is, my dad probably just liked him and wanted to teach him things, and maybe have an entertaining gofer while he touched base with all his assorted overseers and underlings. So, along came Corwin. We shared a room in the facility’s quarters and drove each other halfway over the edge.
Also, it was steamed-shower hot all the time, and I it’s not like I didn’t notice. I just didn’t give a fuck. I had pitstains down to my ass, but they were invisible on my black shirts and didn’t slow me down. There was so much to do that I almost didn’t feel it, just because I was too busy trying to do everything. I wanted to take the light rail and meet my cousins so we could dick around at the beach. I wanted to go into town and see what they had at the lunch carts. Watch every shuttle launch. Go to whatever building my dad was working in and bug him the whole time. Go hiking with my mom. Play baseball and frisbee with my dad and all the other rocket scientists. Sit and drink coffee at that one place that had about fifteen lazy fans spinning on the ceiling. I didn’t have time to sit stewing in my own sweat.
Meanwhile, Corwin was turning into a squinting, cringing cave troll in dark glasses. Pale and damp as one of those blind cave salamanders. He only really went outside to move from one building to another, like someone trying to avoid nuclear fallout.
I did manage to get him out of the apartment a few times. To the beach once, to some gathering my mom’s family was having, across the facility so I could show him the underground tunnels that connected most of the buildings. Those, he took to right away. I also tried to get him to come with me when I went to get drunk on my uncle’s boat, but that’s where he drew the line.
Even when I could drag him out somewhere, he always ended up saying he wasn’t feeling well and wandering off to find somewhere dark to lie down.
And I didn’t understand it. Sure, it was hot, but we were down at the wide part of the world, the curve of the planet holding us up to the sun. What the hell did he expect? That he’d die of mild discomfort, and I’d be liable?
I think I just thought he was a giant killjoy.
God, if you could only see me now.
All day, I heat up like bloated roadkill. All night, I freeze like a reptile. Truth be told, I don’t much feel like getting drunk on some stranger’s boat, either. I apologized in my head a few times.
...And then I don’t really know what happened. I guess I just went and fainted, because I was lying on the hot pavement in front of the machine, wet and surrounded by half-melted ice. A guy I’d seen around the motel a few times, dressed in trunks and all ready to hop into that disgusting, warmed-over pool, is shaking me back and forth, asking over and over again if I’m alright, if I need help, if I want an ambulance.
What I want is for him to stop shaking me. My overcooked brain, melted and sloshing in my skull. I slap his hand away, sit up, press a handful of ice against my forehead, and close my eyes for a while. Then, before I realize what’s happening, I unceremoniously puke down the front of my shirt. The questions are getting louder. I want to deck the stupid asshole, but my arms aren’t listening so well.
I pretend he never saw anything. I refill the bucket, snap “fuck off” through my teeth, and stagger back up to my room where I can biodegrade in private.
Just like I planned when I got here.
I take another shower, before the smell gets a chance to set off my stomach again. I turn on the television, crawl under the blankets, and start eating my ice cubes.
Who knows what’ll be different tomorrow? How viciously the sun will burn away the clouds. How my body might betray me again.
But, for now, it’s finally just right.
no subject