Concertos and drabbles

[xaara]

Itzhak Perlman is God. This is all I have to say.

But seriously, he hits every note with such accuracy that it's impossible not to feel the piece singing around you. He forces you to revert to clichés about soaring and flying and lyrical strains. There is literally no way to put it into words.

It's fragmented purity, or unadulterated beauty, or something. Something that must have a big word to describe it because it's so big that it deserves a big word. I'm not making much sense, am I?

I tried to write today - I really did - but every time I sat down and settled in some new yard sale crisis emerged, or I had to go and deal with meals and other household tasks in lieu of my otherwise occupied parents. I'm going to write tomorrow, dammit. Just try and stop me.

Came across an old challenge from sunday100 which provided me endless drabble ideas. The challenge was to pick titles from McSweeney's Lists and write drabbles to fit them. I now have about six million plot bunnies hopping around in my head. *sigh* Well, my first attempts are below.

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Popular Pickup Lines Used by Serial Killers

Season Seven (minor AU)

They lie still afterward, breathing deeply, gathering up their scattered pieces. She half-turns toward him and opens her mouth, but the words remain unspoken as she sees he is already asleep, his usual tension dissipated, a peaceful almost-smile on his lips.

At times like these, she can almost forget what he's done. What he's done to her.

What she's done to him.

Drowsily, she peers at the glowing clock next to her bed. It's past midnight, which makes it what? Saturday?

What happens on Saturday?

I kill you.

Smiling, she curls into him and falls asleep against his unmoving chest.

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Probable Locations of Trans-dimensional Portals

Dawn, Post-Chosen

In England, she's just another girl, the strange American one with the long hair who doesn't know any of inoffensive slang for this part of the country but has picked up enough from undisclosed sources to make her classmates blush at her indiscretion.

Sometimes it was neat living with a vampire.

Sometimes not, but yeah.

Sometimes it was neat.

She thinks that she's maybe the one with the clearest memories of his genuine smile, because he turned it on for her so many times.

She wonders what he would think if he saw her now.

She hopes he'd be proud.

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Things My Friend Fabio Said Recently

Buffy, Post-Chosen

Fabio sells produce from a tiny stand down the street from my apartment. I go to him for the freshest lettuce, the ripest olives, and the sweetest grapes in Rome.

"Buongiorno, signora," he says when I arrive each morning. "Come va?"

"How does it go?" he asks. Not "How are you?" but "How does it go?"

I shrug. "It goes."

"He still has not come?"

I pretend not to know what he's talking about.

"He must have been a wonderful man for you."

I don't bother correcting him. "But he didn't believe me."

Fabio smiles softly. "I'm sure he did."

Comments

[lady-of-winter.livejournal.com]

T_T- Perlman! T_T

Lovely drabbles- I am humbled, as always, by your writing.

[xaara.livejournal.com]

Perlman's performance was teh coolest thing ever. Hee, I used the nonword "teh" in a sentence! *is proud*

Thanks for the drabble comment - I really have a lot of fun writing them. They're sort of my stress relief. :)