dear_mun | (no subject)

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I object to 'the boring one', especially if your criteria is 'hasn't stabbed anyone yet'.

Solution: stab someone.

Like who?

Oh, there is never really a shortage of candidates, is there? But if you find somebody on the internet you can probably argue it's legally consensual.

I thought that was for cannibalism.

The internet is for anything. (Unfortunately, sometimes.)

Well. If it'll make me interesting--

Which is apparently measured in bloodshed!

Oh, maybe it is about cannibalism! Maybe we're all being written by cannibals. Right now.

I think that would actually explain a lot, don't you?

It does create room for a psychological profile.

That's going to get very alarming, very quickly.

Beginning as we (they) mean to go on.

There's something to be said for consistency. I'm trying not to think too hard about what; but something.

Yet.

Keep hope!

Well, there is always tomorrow.

Shame, some people deserve a good stabbing.

And yet.

I see you won the typist lottery.

Now, I too can revel in the joy of ruining everything I touch! ( more, she doesn't say, because that would be awkward!! )

[Well even that much, Coyle finds a little awkward, but in a feeling sorry for her way. :C]

Everything?

Maybe not everything. She probably wouldn't touch my career.

That's... something, I guess. What do you do?

I'm a poet. ( Ilde sounds slightly as though she's testing out whether or not this makes her sound like a child playing dress up in the adult world. ) Um, mostly.

... mixed blessing, then?

Something like that.

I'd ask you more but... well, the answers'd probably be wasted on me. All I know is that Open Mic night at the Durham Arms is pretty entertaining, though not always in way people on stage intended.

I like to think I'm slightly less embarrassing about it than that, but you never know.

I believe it. By default at the very least.

I can't be worse. Probably.

Well, do you have any drums? Or hand puppets?

Well, I have a cello, but I don't think I'd try doing both at once.

Oh, my mum used to do that. Course, it was only with Pachelbel's Canon and the poem she was saying was "I better be getting 200 quid for this wedding / don't tell me to shut up why are we even practicing". Is that slant rhyme?

I think Pachelbel's Canon makes it 'whatever the fuck she'd like to call it'. You have to be understanding there.

It's only fair, yeah. Though it'd go over well at the Durham for sure.

Anyway, it's something, being a poet who hasn't stabbed anyone yet.

It's a talking point. You know; why haven't I? I'm sure there are lots of reasons.

Saving it up for a rainy day? Lack of accessibility to a properly sized acid bath?

Also, laziness.

See, that's not boring at all.

I didn't think so. See, I'd give it a lot of thought; it takes a lot of effort to stab somebody and get away with it, I think, so on reflection, I'd like to just write a stern letter and take a nap.

Sensible. I hope this doesn't become Chekhov's knife for you.

It's fine, I know people who'd hide a body for me. ( BLITHELY )

Ah, well, we should all be so lucky!

What is family for, etc.

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