| potions_master @ 2003-08-18 09:58:00 |
| Current mood: | pissed off |
| Current music: | NOISE. |
Shape without form, shade without colour
I cannot tell if it is day or night outside. My room is an angular sort of room overlooking the main road, in a building where the lifts do not move up and down but sideways, in a rather irritating manner, and while I feel as though it is an extremely late hour it is still excruciatingly bright beyond my window, and so I am not convinced that night has in fact fallen. I doubt that it will. There is no peace to be had in this place.
Upon arriving I was immediately surrounded by machines designed to accept the Muggle's excuse for currency but return very little of it. This process involves an inordinate number of lights and highly irritating sounds, and old women clutching plastic cups of coins and rabbits' feet. It is a strange and loathsome sight, and yet I am oddly fascinated. Though perhaps I am merely distracted by the bright colours.
It is a strange concoction, this place. There is a rather ridiculous-looking castle next to a pyramid, while nearby one can see the spires of New York City. Further along is the decidedly fictional Emerald City that, in my opinion, should have remained fictional. Not to mention the pirate ship that feigns to sink upon every hour. Every single building here seems to be involved in a competition to see which one can glow the brighter, or stretch higher into the otherwise innocuous desert sky. The streets are teeming with people at all hours. I do not believe this place is even aware of the concept of sleeping.
There are no clocks to be found.
In the interest of research I procured a silver coin and placed it into one of those obnoxious contraptions that seem to be everywhere in the city. The result was a cacophany of noise and flashing lights and a man in a hideous uniform approaching me bearing an outsized cheque. I am not familiar with American Muggle currency, however it would seem that I have come into a rather large amount of it. When these cretins attempted to take my photograph they became suddenly disorientated and were thus not successful. I shall have to explain to the Ministry the need for a Confundus Charm, though I suspect they will be quite understanding given the circumstances. With that, I took my leave of them - however, I am not stupid, and I took the cheque with me.
Following this fiasco I attempted to seek out a decent cup of tea, something completely unheard of on this forsaken continent. Instead I found myself in some sort of bizarre revue of obese men in white clothing, awash in rhinestones and singing about shoes. I have never been more frightened in my life. Muggles are completely useless and should be abolished. Particularly the American ones. There is absolutely no hope for this country whatsoever.
I am bloody exhausted. I am tempted to put myself under a Blindness Curse, if only to block out the light for a few short hours in which I might finally manage some rest. A Silencing Charm might also be in order, as the people beyond my window refuse to stop sounding their infernal horns.
Damn it, Albus - one more assignment such as this and I will gladly feed myself to the nearest dragon and take you with me.
Comments:
| lupercus @ 2003-08-18 05:47 pm UTC |
You played the slots? And you won?
Drinks are definitely on you, then.
| potions_master @ 2003-08-18 06:05 pm UTC |
I did not play the slots. I was merely intrigued by their function. The result was pure chance.
You can buy your own drinks.
| lupercus @ 2003-08-18 06:07 pm UTC |
Actually, I believe the sages would call that 'dumb luck,' Severus.
Some gentleman you are, won't even buy a bloke a drink.
| lupercus @ 2003-08-18 06:14 pm UTC |
There's a first time for everything.
Got to run - have an appointment to keep. Must take you up on that drink another time.
Enjoy Lost Wages.
| potions_master @ 2003-08-18 06:15 pm UTC |
You give new meaning to the word 'lunatic,' Lupin.