nixsight

Dear Journal,

It’s another wet day here in Southampton… sometimes it seems to have been raining forever. Anya hates the rain. It reminds her of ‘Nam. She does this cute thing where she snuffles at the air irritably, and I know that it’s the ghost of blood and ash that’s got in her nose. Bless…!

Living with J. continues to go swimmingly… Thankfully, there’s no sexual tension like there was with the last one. It can get so messy when there is, and inevitably that chemistry has to go somewhere, and that can only end one of two ways; either with a whimper, or a series of awkward questions and firearm ballistics tests. It’s no coincidence that it’s the scenario which has made most of my favourite shows jump the shark.

There was some awkwardness while we sorted all that stuff out, but ultimately we discussed it like two grown men. It turns out that in J’s list of turn-offs, “the terrible stench of death” ranks pretty high (just above “women who smoke cigars”, just below “terminal STDs”). I don’t judge him for it… everyone is entitled to their foibles.

For my part, once you’ve tasted human flesh, it’s difficult to look back.

I freely admit that the varied acts of lust have become a bittersweet affair for me in recent weeks… It’s hard to find you are attracted to someone, and know that your time with them will end up so short. But we are every one of us solely the sum of our desires and fears, and it’s difficult to feel too awfully about life with the taste of liver so fresh on one’s palate.

Oh, Journal, I almost forgot, I have finally completed Half Life 2! What a wonderful day, what a fabulous game…! Such a cold, Eastern European war-zone feel to it… a far cry from the dreadful, dark and one-note environs of Doom 3… and such a doom-laden tone to take compared to the tropical Far Cry. So much easier to picture oneself walking the streets around where I sit typing, grenade launcher in one hand, gravity gun in the other, than in those other far-fetched locales. Heh, take that, grumpy shopkeeper; eat my gravity-chucked fuel-can grenade, crazy street-person. What FUN!

I had thought, once I’d found myself snagged in that terrible spot where Gordon Freeman has to extricate himself from the strip club, so low on ammo from a previous save, unable to find a way out, and head-crab infected lapdancers all around, that I would never see my way through, but thank goodness for J! Oh, I could have kissed him, if we hadn’t already got that conversation out of the way… he had already played through the whole adventure four times, and knew exactly what I needed to do.

Oh, and what an ending… J. informs me that there was some fan controversy over the brave weapon decisions made by the programmers during the story’s final act. Both J. and I agree that we felt that it was the only way to go. To go into detail here would be distracting, but I have written a full account on another page, Dear Journal. Warning Spoilers, indeed!

Anyway, I am thankful that the endless nights of drinking relented long enough to allow me to finish the game. Really, J. and I have been behaving like men five years younger, and my poor aching head is struggling with it. Just Tuesday, over early morning coffee, J. told me that his mouth felt like he had an old man’s foot in it.

By coincidence, later that day, Anya actually found an old foot, while digging around in the garden. In it’s mummified state, it was difficult to tell exactly how old it was, or whether the person it belonged to was old, young, or even male or female. Not knowing what else to do with it, I wrapped it up and stored it on a high shelf in our shed for safe-keeping. I must remember to ask J. what he thinks we should do with it. I don’t relish a visit to the house from the local constabulary.

They always insist on drinking our tea, and supplies are getting low.

J. seems happier. He hasn’t heard from his ex-wife for some ten days, and although the silence is jarring, perhaps now the healing can start, or at the very least, the shallow, ultimately heartbreaking one-night stands and rebound sex.

Still, though, it is peculiar, what with her working in the same office, that we haven’t seen or heard from her. But I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.