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He tans into burning while the opening fanfare to "Peaches en Regalia" flows over him, the bugle call for a hippie army that marched at the peak of the American parabola, that moment when physics held its breath to allow levitation, a small reward before the descent. The hippies knew it then, Maggot Boy Johnson thinks; they couldn't build it into words but they could feel it; a floating in the stomach as history shifted direction. They stopped, hey, what's that sound, and knew that the spiny skyscrapers reflected in the river, the chasms of concrete, the wide streets and sidewalks, the power lines cutting into the hills and mountains above missile silos, the highways drawing lines across the blank plains under enormous skies, the pupil of God's eye, would be the ruins that their grandchildren wandered among, the reminders that once there was always water in the faucet, there was electricity all the time, and America was prying off the shackles of its past. The vision opened up to them and winked out again, and those it blinded staggered through their lives unable to see anything else, while the rest of them wondered if they had only dreamed it. ↗
Felicity recorded in her memoirs that Operation Devastation was a chart buster and won many Oscars and Emmys. It was new in its time sex, fame, dirty money, revenge and paradise…what a journey. It was everybody’s dream to get revenge on an ex-boyfriend or give up work and live in Paradise. Felicity recorded Rory did allow The Three Wise Women input a lot into the scripts and experts were employed to research the themes like addiction, depression, abuse and adultery in a fair and balanced way. The victims of these were given a voice and it gave a forum for people to discuss these topics and be mature and grow up and face problems ↗
They watch on, evil, incredibly stupid, enjoying my destruction. 'Poor Grendel's had an accident,' I whisper. 'So may you all. ↗
#historical-fiction #last-lines #literature #retelling #historical
Her lips are like pillows of warm glass. It is strange to find her resistant for even a second, since she has been the kisser and not the kissed. It wasn't like the last time, which felt fumbling and unnatural. That time wasn't off-putting, just like kissing one's sister. This kiss, my kiss, was tingling sweetness, electric apple blossoms. ↗
His kisses were so hungry and male, which isn't bad. Every kiss said he could never have enough, but he wasn't going to stop trying. They were so hormonal. I wanted his sugar roughness. Girl's kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me - when I kiss her - she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it. ↗
#bisexuality #kiss #kisses #love #romance
