Post the Forty-Third: An Update on Tacomapocalypse and Meeting A Bus Kid

I’m back up at Teaberry, Gentle Reader. Sorry for the delay – I actually had two separate posts vanish in the aether when I tried to send them from my trusty mobile while I was visiting Maman. They were lengthy, they were poignant, and they were exhausting to write. They are gone, and I’m rather irritated that the one that did post is poorly edited. You were supposed to also be able to have a downloadable Valentine’s day card, looking like this:

Image

Unfortunately, it didn’t work out so well.

Today, then, I came back home, to the Farm. As I was waiting for the bus – well, let me put it this way: If Plato had conceived of an idyllic scene kid, and then gotten Michelangelo to sculpt him, and Yahweh touched its finger to animate it, then that’s who approached me at the bussery.

Gold

As far as features go, at any rate. Skye* was one of the most polite nineteen-year-olds I’ve ever met – including when I, myself, was nineteen. Further, he was as friendly with strangers as the Ex-Husband†, and engaging – I was genuinely interested in what he had to say! We chatted, with pleasure, for half an hour, until the bus arrived, and a further forty-five upon the bus, and another twenty once we’d debarked. It’s very rare that I’ll encourage a conversation with bus people.

We exchanged contact information, and after he left, I made several notes – he’s exactly how I envisioned one of the characters, in a short story that I’m working on. It was uncanny, actually, the sense of familiarity. I had just started describing the character this morning – he had been generally planned, I had the idea of him in my head, and so on – but I was having trouble translating my thoughts to paper. Also, I couldn’t think of how to introduce him to his foil – I’m not entirely certain how real human people meet, organically, in real life. I think I have an inkling, now.

Barring unforeseen circumstances‡, I’ll try to drum up enough enthusiasm to rewrite one of the vanished posts, of which I am justifiably proud. Or was. Whichever.

*********

*I know, I don’t use names. His, though, was so evocative! And I’ve left off the surname. And I doubt that he’ll ever read my blog or anything. Shut up.

Ex-Husband has a habit of being able to befriend strangers within five minutes. I don’t know how he manages it, but there you go.

‡Including, but not limited to, my frustration at having to rewrite something from scratch, lack of interest, or depressive episodes

 

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About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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