(no subject)

Since everything I'm saying lately has inevitably offended someone I thought I ought to take advantage of the situation to tell you all that you're all complete tossers. And will so continue to be until I decide otherwise.

I think I'll go ride today. It's raining but I don't care.
A few of my favorite things

(no subject)

When these books originally began to appear in bookshops, Sirius and I were, I believe, among the first to acquire them -- originally because having left Hogwarts made for a rather difficult time keeping track of James, Peter and Lily. We spent a great deal of time bantering, and being generally quite odd and silly. The war existed, yes, but it was a quiet, faraway thing. Since then, a great deal has changed, both here and in the world outside these pages, and the war has become something... not so far off, and ultimately, something far more personal. We have lost a Minister, and some of us have lost far more. Chatter which was once so carefree has become strained as the world has bloodied itself, and it seems no one is untouched.

In these times, I've cause to appreciate these books. For despite the habit of certain unfortunate sorts come round to irritate us, they have given us a bridge of words to others: those whom we, otherwise, would not have met, and those we've known before, whom we would have, perhaps, had difficulty keeping in contact with.

I suppose I am the sort to keep count of these things. But when I first opened my book, and saw Sirius' writing appear across my page, I swore that I should remember, in six months, or twelve, or twenty-four, where I was at that moment.

I'd no idea so much could change in half a year.

(no subject)

I did not know her well, having only met her a handful of times, but of the people closest to me, she was mother to two, one by birth and one by choice.

This loss cannot be universalised because it isn't universal, but it is... tragic. And these times, there are too many losses.

I don't really know what else to say.


Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. It seems he has run out of luck. Trip and fall, scream and cry, turn and burn until you die.

I will not miss him, and neither will you.

Think about it.