Bye, bye Magpie...
Aug. 19th, 2011 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonWell, it’s official… m’man the Magpie has left his nest in Terminus and taken flight for Los Angeles. Left early Wednesday morning after a night of drinks at the Yacht Club followed by a brief farewell haze in his hollowed out apartment. Inside the Erosnasium/ Black Museum that also served as his crash pad, one could see on the white walls where his swords had hung, a negative ‘whiter’ cut-out arsenal hovering between two windows. There was an energy still lingering where the window shrine once burned and the whispers of pagan saints could still be heard between the barks of laughter and drunken promises of better days to come. Eventually, the alcohol hit hard in a vertigo wave and left me reeling outside to stumble onto his front porch where the demons of nausea bathed in a belly filled on whiskey alone.
Time went dark on me… when next I recall what has passed the Magpie is leaning over me, rubbing my bald head affectionately and whispering…
… something.
Then Teddy Bear ferried me back to the Folks. Stumbled up the stairs and passed out in the dark, briefly remembering a Tennessee dawn from a thousand lifetimes since that morning.
When I awoke it was to the beep of a farewell text from the Magpie, apologizing for leaving me alone drunk in his ‘ghost house’, wishing me well and paraphrasing Aleister Crowley all in one go.
Went by the old Magpie Nest today. Went down to Little Five after work to clear my head from recent troubles. Lost in thought, I found myself standing at the gate of his old complex, the brick apartment building behind the parking lot behind Little Five.
I imagined him stepping out onto the front porch. Magpie as the Ginger Pan of Little Five - bare chested, a spiked belt wrapped around a kilt and a pair of prosthetic horns spirit glued beneath the flaming locks. There he would lift a homemade lute to his lips, one made of empty liquor bottles tied together by a bluff, and begin to play at a secret frequency a song only his army of lovers could hear.
Then the vision faded, as quick as a notion as brief as a dream.
Another friend gone, it’s true, but at least like West, this one’s not just Missing In Action, but Living there too.
Good luck and I’ll see you in the pictures, kid.
Time went dark on me… when next I recall what has passed the Magpie is leaning over me, rubbing my bald head affectionately and whispering…
… something.
Then Teddy Bear ferried me back to the Folks. Stumbled up the stairs and passed out in the dark, briefly remembering a Tennessee dawn from a thousand lifetimes since that morning.
When I awoke it was to the beep of a farewell text from the Magpie, apologizing for leaving me alone drunk in his ‘ghost house’, wishing me well and paraphrasing Aleister Crowley all in one go.
Went by the old Magpie Nest today. Went down to Little Five after work to clear my head from recent troubles. Lost in thought, I found myself standing at the gate of his old complex, the brick apartment building behind the parking lot behind Little Five.
I imagined him stepping out onto the front porch. Magpie as the Ginger Pan of Little Five - bare chested, a spiked belt wrapped around a kilt and a pair of prosthetic horns spirit glued beneath the flaming locks. There he would lift a homemade lute to his lips, one made of empty liquor bottles tied together by a bluff, and begin to play at a secret frequency a song only his army of lovers could hear.
Then the vision faded, as quick as a notion as brief as a dream.
Another friend gone, it’s true, but at least like West, this one’s not just Missing In Action, but Living there too.
Good luck and I’ll see you in the pictures, kid.