| potions_master @ 2003-08-12 20:38:00 |
| Current mood: | irate |
| Current music: | The GRATING sound of INCESSANT HAPPINESS |
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
There is absolutely no discernable way on Merlin's Earth that a place can be as humid as it is here. And yet, it is. America is an entirely wearisome place.
This place seems to exist purely as a horrifying example of Muggles left to their own devices. I am appalled by my lodgings, as the entire building seems to have some sort of a "theme" - the intent I expect was Victorian splendour, the result is more or less as if an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel has vomited upon an elaborate, plastic wedding confection. There are gigantic creatures roaming the lobby frightening the children, and I have never seen such a large amount of people wearing tropical-patterned clothing who should not be.
There is, however, tea in the afternoons. This much is pleasing.
However, to my great misfortune I was forced to tour the "entertainment" facilities of the area for the better part of the day. What I have seen here has been more horrifying than anything I have witnessed in nearly forty years of living. Shrieking whelps, mouth-breathing adults, and outsized mice and waterfowl crouched like snipers in the underbrush, springing forth to molest and manhandle unsuspecting passerby. I do not think the large rabbit I encountered near an area called "Fantasyland" expected to be Petrified. It will wear off eventually, and perhaps it will have learnt a valuable lesson about forcing the unwilling into wearing hats depicting mouse's ears.
The focus of this establishment seems to be to impose a sense of happiness upon its visitors. I daresay there is a secret police whose duty it is to enforce this happiness and detain those who do not display an vacant, myopic smile at all times. Perhaps the overpriced foodstuffs are infused with mind-altering narcotics. The constant cheerful music could very well be riddled with the subliminal messages of: You WILL be happy. This sort of thing, while a point of nausea for those of us who lack the patience and demeanor for it, would be detrimental in the hands of an entity bent more on gaining world power than cornering the market on mouse-emblazoned merchandise. Something to remember. I shall make a note of it.
There are cockroaches here the size of Acromantulas. Fascinating. I have procured some as ingredients in certain strengthening draughts and other useful potions.
Also, prancing bands of pubescent boys are apparently the Florida State Animal, as they are everywhere one happens to look and one cannot walk five feet without hearing one of their insipid attempts at musical expression. The sheer amount of phosphorescent clothing that they wear is appalling.
I believe earlier I passed a section of this park that looked as if it is intended to resemble England in some way. While I doubt that they have even come close, I will endeavour to see if they can manage a decent flagon of mead, or something approaching it. I am in need of something stronger than mere tea in order to recover from the ordeal of the so-called happiest bloody place on earth.
Incidentally, it is not a small sodding world, after all, when you have spent the last two months traversing from one bloody end of it to the other.
Begone.
Comments:
| potions_master @ 2003-08-12 10:38 pm UTC |
You have vested interest in winsome animals with abnormally large heads?
I see you have survived.
| lupercus @ 2003-08-12 10:40 pm UTC |
i have a vested interest in being as bloody far from here as possible.
yes. i survived. fat lot of good it will do me.
| potions_master @ 2003-08-12 10:42 pm UTC |
The werewolf is displeased.
Dare I ask what sort of transgression we are flogging ourselves for this time?
| lupercus @ 2003-08-12 10:54 pm UTC |
the werewolf is fucking brassed off is what he is.
i just - what else do i have to do? what else is there left for me to do to get through to him? did he really think i would accept an apology when i know - i bloody know - he hasn't got a clue what he's supposed to be sorry for? and he knows this isn't about us or even me anymore. he bloody knows that because if he doesn't then. then i don't know how we're going to fix this.
| potions_master @ 2003-08-12 11:18 pm UTC |
You mistook idle curiousity for genuine interest, Lupin.
You expect too much of him. You expect too much of yourself.
| potions_master @ 2003-08-12 11:36 pm UTC |
Yes. I would expect. As I said, you expect too much of yourself.
There are no such hearts on earth.
| lupercus @ 2003-08-12 11:41 pm UTC |
no, i cannot accept that.
i tried explaining it to him again. i don't know how many times i can do this, explain it to him. it never sinks in. it is never finished.
it's as if he simply does not want to hear my at all.
| potions_master @ 2003-08-13 12:09 am UTC |
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.
Remus, go to sleep. And perhaps consider taking a holiday. Get the hell out of London, and out of your own bloody head.
I do not, however, recommend this place as a destination. Best avoided.