I'm going to describe myself in 6 words. Please respond to this message with your own 6 word description of me. Then put this in your own LJ and see if people can describe you in ONLY 6 words.

dentist: dead diligent misanthrope, streaming wonderment
He insisted I put 'dentist' first.

Lucius: Weighed down under those heavy thoughts
reply: the heavy thoughts make me smile
The Doctor: Perhaps my most interesting friend yet.
reply: Really? *is mildly surprised, as the Doctor has many extremely interesting frinds*
free stellar gypsy; displaced anachronous friend
Remus: A quiet, and very honorable man.
reply: *smiles* quiet with too many words.
Camilla: Quick with cards, quicker with guns.
reply: coolly beautifully appreciative; nervously folding inside
Amy: Contingent on what may not arrive
reply: *blinks* exactly right. It's nice to be known. I miss you. I've been holed up depressed, just working. The pho was awesome. John at least will write soon, perhaps today. I'm sorry I missed your questions. I'm looking forward to seeing your new face. *warmth, you know.* I do miss you.

Lucius: chilled light, kept hollow by family
Remus: stolen life brought home; warily hidden
Severus: shredding your soul for others' sakes
Tonks: giving energy splattered healing over everyone
john_h_holliday: (Default)
( May. 4th, 2008 04:12 pm)
If you could get anyone drunk, who would it be and what would you do?

I always have scotch. My cough demands it, my throat and lungs. And my mind too is soothed, quieted, focused. It has become as a friend, always reliable and to hand with no delicate manoeuvrings. I drink to comfort myself.

I offer scotch to others, as hospitality sometimes. Or sometimes it is to ease their own agitation or to fill their need to simply drink. Mostly it is habit and politeness.

My friends are different. When I am with someone who I care for, who intrigues me, who lets a smile for them rise through me, I offer them my scotch for both of us. It is like a gift then - to me, yes - but also a gift between us. Communion. A small ritual of offering, and of being accepted, touching glasses, acknowledging that we are there together in space and time. L'Chaim, I say now. And, as I have said before, an answer means that we choose Life, at least for that moment while we are drinking. It is an action, a little rite, that makes it a fact, and that choice is a truce of sorts. That one, for the sake of the time with one's friend, is setting oneself apart from the darkness of one's inner struggle. To be present with another. But the scotch... it gives us something in common, a shared internal mental pattern of warmth, of mutual openness, so we can be together, so we can talk, listen, learn, feel maybe.

I can drink a great deal, and the more I drink, the steadier I become. Without it, I can barely - no, I cannot get up in the mornings. I have an unfair advantage, when getting people drunk. Maybe I would do it for vengeance, but for my friends... no. If what I want is to see them purely, cleanly and truly that I may love them; if what I want is to be known and still... wanted, then making them drunk will never give me that, no matter how I yearn to see, to share. To get someone I cared for drunk, so that they could abide my presence, my gifts, my darkness - that would be hard to bear and more pain than solace. For touch... it is tempting, but it would be a lie for touch is just speech without words. More pain than solace.

No one need worry.

John is inclined to bow his head, wrap his arms about himself protectively, but he is dignified and shows nothing. Loneliness is nothing. It is nothing. Nothing. The steady words sound softly, though they are imagined, and he is comforted for imagining he is known.

Name: John H. Holliday, DDS.
Fandom: History.
Word Count: 448
Please comment if you wish.
Nulli Virtute Secundus


john_h_holliday: (Default)

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