eraserhead
He steps out in the night onto a great mound of shale, partially overgrown with grass and weeds. He has to make a sacrifice, one of his arms. There is something wrong with his left hand; some of the fingers are sliced in half and bleed away into the darkness. And something waits in the hill. He carries a large knife. There is an air of
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Chrissy's grubby hands doubtless due to enthusiastic groping of the soot-smeared fire-demon.
An lj friend of mine took these at Manchester, thought you might like to see the ones of Schn:
catwalk boy
i still can't believe he wore tights
I think she took some down due to bandwidth issues, there was another pic with Schn bending over very fetchingly. If Amy managed to save it elsewhere then will email it to you.
I love the Gruniad. For some reason that made me think of the story about the performances of the Oresteia, when the Furies were so terrifying that pregnant women in the audience miscarried through fear. Maybe Till has the same effect.
Choughs indeed. Or butterfly-watching.
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Then your spider senses do not deceive you.
Unless I bottle it, of course.
The tights picture is divine - thank you so much for sharing - and I agree that the grub is from groping Mr Tillie *drool* - it's black, sooty grub. I so wanted to catch up with you so you could share in the drumstick-stroking.
Don't be sorry about the beatings we took - yours was much worse. It's hard for me to feel anything, so getting hit is at least a bit of a rush.
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You were smiling in the dream so it must be the right decision.
You could hang the chrysalids from the drumstick. I would have liked to touch it, just for the essence of Schneider and his unspeakable desires for the fire-demon.
I still don't like the idea of you being hurt. But I am soft in the head so there it is.
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