RooK at 06:56, 9 March 2018

2018-03-09T06:56:45Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:56, 9 March 2018
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	[[category:2005 Rant]]		[[category:2005 Rant]]
	With trembling apprehension, I fumble with the phone. It's a tiny thing, made for fumbling. Carefully crafted with polished faces to accentuate the betraying fingerprints of the fumbling.		With trembling apprehension, I fumble with the phone. It's a tiny thing, made for fumbling. Carefully crafted with polished faces to accentuate the betraying fingerprints of the fumbling.

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RooK at 03:05, 7 February 2011

2011-02-07T03:05:58Z

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[[category:2005 Rant]]
With trembling apprehension, I fumble with the phone. It's a tiny thing, made for fumbling. Carefully crafted with polished faces to accentuate the betraying fingerprints of the fumbling.

I don't even have to dial, the phone knows who I want to call. She's the only person I ever really want to call. I fear phones, almost as much as I fear talking on phones. But she knows it, and her knowing it somehow makes it better. The phone faeries do their magical dance, and make her phone start to ring.

<center>ring, ring, ring, ring - answering machine</center>

There's that awful and painfully familiar realization that I don't really have anything to say, just in time to have to say it to the recording device. I say several awkward words of nothing, and she saves me by picking up the phone.

Ah, the faintly frightening feeling of telephonic satisfaction. It's her, it's really her. With all her quirks and oddities peeking around her magnificence to assure me of her realness. We banter and talk, and re-entwine ourselves in that addictively agreeable manner I do so dearly love.

Somehow, she reaches through the phone to pluck at some secret strings in my soul, telling me about a dream. She stirs alive and communes with a part of me that cannot technically use a phone, yet reached it she has. My mind hears things that should make me jealous and wrathful were they real, but instead they are a glimpse behind that seventh veil and leave me in awe of my goddess.

The secret soul strings thrum for a while from her lingering caress, and then it's time for her to go. Sightlessly, we stare into each other's eyes across the chasm of the phone faeries, and make wordless vows about our next visit. And we return to ourselves, in our distant homes.

With trembling anticipation, I fumble with the phone. It's a tiny thing, for something able to be a conduit for so much.

2005.10.10 telephonication - Revision history

RooK at 06:56, 9 March 2018

RooK: 1 revision imported

RooK at 03:05, 7 February 2011