November 18, 2006
Gregory House… one of the most intriguing TV show characters, played by the amazing Hugh Laurie. He inspired me more than once. This was my first fanfic on the subject.
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Nothing changes
He sat in the gloominess of his floodlit parlour, sipping hot coffee, wondering at the irony of the word, given his own circumstances. The last time anyone sat and talked to him in the room was on Christmas Eve. Wilson had come over to keep him company, out of sheer pity, or maybe because of his own emotional problems. Well, that’s what friends are for. In need, indeed. Rain was pouring down on the annoyingly clean windowpanes. Sally came regularly, every week, or fortnight, depending on his mood. Sometimes he just didn’t care, he let the dirt grow over him, like tendrils of memory, pulling him down, pulling him back into the past. But most often he liked law and order persisting in his home. Unless he had to do something about it. Then he just limped to his mistress, the white-lipped, cooing microwave, and exerted scorching coffee out of her. read more »
November 18, 2006
I wrote this a loooong time ago. In university. I still love it…
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Oh does he know does he? How can anyone be so cute? Anyway he can’t help it, he was born this way.
She was contemplating his face again. She could not take her eyes off his lovely face. Her feeling ridiculous did not help at all. Not even his looking up and seeing her stare. She felt her cheek turn red, but her fingers moved carelessly on the sheet, shaping a rather badly drawn female body. She wished. Wished that she was more talkative with those whom she liked. If only she had said hello to him afterwards, and not shy away from him, the embarrassment of both would have disappeared. Of course, cursing herself was no remedy. It was marred, the whole affair. read more »
November 18, 2006
Ars poetica
Írni, ez minden vágyam. A betűk márványából kifaragni a szavakat, a valóság színeiből mondatszivárványt festeni. Addig cserélgetni ezeket a girbe-gurba álombákom-darabkákat, amíg a fejemben megszületett gondolat ízét megérzi a papír. Meglehet, ostoba dolog vágyakozni a nem megfogható után, ha soha nem lehet az enyém; de csupán azzal együtt élni, mit a mindennapoknak nevezünk, számomra egyenlő lenne egy szürke sivatagban tett végtelen sétával. Michelangelo addig nézte a márványtömböt, amíg meglátta benne a meztelen, sebezhető kőembert. Szavakat forgatni a fejemben, nyitott szemmel járni és minden ruhadarabra, hangfoszlányra, vagy arckifejezésre született zakatoló gondolatot szóruhába öltöztetni- ez minden vágyam. read more »
November 18, 2006
Annyi mindenről szeretnék írni, azt sem tudom, mivel kezdjem… fontos-e, mi lesz a témája az első bejegyzésemnek? Talán… talán nem.
A napokban pötyögtem be valamit. Jót tett a lelkemnek… én menthetetlen vagyok, jól tudom. 
Íme.
Bűn
A férfi zihálva rontott be a templom kapuján. Fejében dübörögtek a gondolatok, sikoltoztak az ellenérvek. Mióta nem járt már szent helyen… Az öreg boltos szemében lapuló páni félelem mélységesen felkavarta; Michael fátyolos tekintete előtt, mely egy rejtett zugot keresett, ahol megbújhatna, még most is vádlón tekintett rá a ráncos arc. read more »
