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[This is meant to be private by maiden!EddieSpinola, but is gloriously public..]

Dearest Journal,
Sir George insists that he is without interest in me. I believe he still holds out due to his title alone, that he denies his feelings for me directly as a result of his ~~oblegashin~~ duty to my father. His heart beats for me. I know this to be true.

Every waking moment I spend with him fills my heart with joy and wonder. He is perfection. The ~~tussel~~ way his hair flops around, unlike the fake way the Prince's hair is. The dark color reminds me of chocolate. Oh, to eat delicious chocolate like his hair. His ~~hazel~~ ~~blue~~ green eyes are always shining brightly. Sir George is the most friendly of all the men in the whole of the ~~kingdom~~ world! His adorable nose and the length of his face cannot be beaten.

But his smile, Journal. The way his lips curve up into that crooked smile he does.. The way his cheeks fall aside to emphasize just how beautiful his smile is. That is the best of all. His lips are so pink, his teeth are so white-- and so straight! He is always smiling. Smiling for me. In his love of me. I can tell in the way he speaks to me, how he is always smiling, his lips pulling up on the ~~right~~ left to shower his happiness onto others.

It is only a matter of time until we are married. Soon, I will beg father and he will understand. In spite of Sir George's insisting that I am not as I believe I am, we will be happy in love and wed and live happily ever after..

♥ Ella

[There's a short pause after the speaker turns on before Eddie actually speaks.]

"Come sola nello spazio che ti resta! E più t'accori s'odi ancora il suono.. che s'allontana verso il mare."

...

I love Italian poetry. Nothing translates as well as it was written in its original language. Even the Odyssey lost some of its magic when it was pulled into English. It's the same reason Cinderella wears a glass slipper and the third Wise Man gave baby Jesus gold. People get confused about what the author meant and suddenly the entire story has changed meaning. Then they make movies out of the story, each one as different from each other as from the original story. Thousands of years go by and, if you're lucky enough that your work is still around, it's not going to be the work that you created. Hell, it's pretty much that way in New York -- or even here. It doesn't matter so much what story people tell as how it gets translated. ...That's another reason for me not to be a writer, George.

Is there a piano on the Barge? I'm getting rusty not practicing.

[Private to Jane]
Have a drink with me tomorrow.

[Private to Wanda]
Moonlight stroll on deck tonight?

[Private to George]
Have you had a chance to get those steroids for me?

[Eddie sounds high.. because he is. He's doped up on morphine, death-tolling in the infirmary, but still diligently posting his serial.]

I don't care what you all think! Here's part... whatever it is. I started it before, but I had to finish it now because someone had to interrupt. Whoever you are? You're stupid.

( ooc warning of PG-13 raunchy content )

Speaking of getting killed, though. What was that? I know Jane would never kill me, so you're.. stupid. And wrong. And.. a lot of other things. [A beat.] Then I drowned. I don't even know how. I was fine and then I wasn't and Jane asked me to go up to the pool-- no, not Jane. Not!Jane asked me to go up to the pool and I went and there was no one there but the door was open and I let myself in and I went swimming-- You know how I love swimming. I went swimming and then suddenly I wasn't okay anymore and I was drowning and then I was dead and then I was in the infirmary or maybe I was somewhere else first, I don't really remember. But now I'm alive and you can't stop me! I will continue to write whatever I want! Whatever I want!

...

Okay! I'm going to sleep now. But I'll be back!

[Private to Jane]
I told you I would!

Due to the unpopular nature of "Little Black Raincloud," we're starting a new story tonight.

UNTITLED #16
PART ONE

     John opened his eyes. His room reflected the city outside: gloomy, dark, and a luring invitation to sleep until the safe dawn. The putrid smell of the city wafted through his door. He sighed and breathed in, chest expanding, and absently turned his head over to his open door. There was dim lighting from a streetlamp outside the cracked hallway window. No wonder it stank.
     He was too tired to bother closing it, so instead he shut his eyes with a disgusted frown. His right eye stung suddenly. His lids snapped open and he hissed while trying to rub away the eyelash. John paused and looked at the doorway as something caught the corner of his watering eye, and his whole body went cold and rigid.
     A short, black figure sat crouched in the doorway. It didn't move, nor did it make a sound. It was rounded on top. He squinted, reaching for the ball pistol on his nightstand. John couldn't say what the thing was, but it would go away fast.
     His fingers twitched over the grip of the gun, but did not close. Something told him not to shoot. Something told him that it would be no use. John's frown tightened, and he swung his legs out of bed.
     Come with me.

I really this one is stronger. It has drama, no pop culture references, and it has a better character arc!

[Private to Jane]
I need to tell you something. Can I come see you?

Here's the new serial:

LITTLE BLACK RAINCLOUD
PART THIRTY-TWO

Between then and now, Harold grew up convinced that the Red Hot Chili Peppers song “City of Angels” was written for him alone and often sang it at Tuesday night karaoke: “She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy; lonely as I am, together we cry.” If he knocked back a few drinks in his time at the bar, he would inevitably be taking a cab home in the rain. He always brought an umbrella, just in case. Because his apartment didn't allow pets, he bought a plant once instead. It died two days later, from too much exposure to the sun and heat; the next day, upon his discovery of the mangled, bone dry corpse, it rained to spite him. Harold spent a time convinced of his superiority, believing himself to be akin to Zeus, god of lightning and thunder, or Storm, the X-Man who commanded the weather. Those delusions of grandeur became somewhat muddled when the weather became more of an inconvenience than a benefit, rain storms ruining already terrible days, making him much later to work every day that he overslept his alarm.
Today was one such day of inconvenience. His misery caused the rain and that water produced resentment and even greater feelings of sadness. Instead of likening himself to Zeus, these days he settled for Eeyore, from Winnie the Pooh, trying to take the whole thing in stride. 'At least Eeyore had better friends,' he thought as he resigned himself to his fate, lowered his briefcase, and began to walk home in the rain.

I hope everyone's alright. There's not a lot that we have here, but we can at least be grateful for our health, right?

[ooc; Eddie is affected. He was raised without the drugs and on a good path. He aspires to be a writer as is too concerned with happiness and optimism to ever care about money and things like that. He's a total pushover and will agree to pretty much any favor (outside of sexual ones), so feel free to have a history of bossing him around. Also, assume his writing is a regular network post that people can choose to look forward to or be totally sick of.]

Eddie Spinola

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○ 11: WORDS WHISPERED SOFTLY.

○ 10: IN OTHER WORDS.

○ 09: six feet deep [audio]

○ 08: you can't always get what you want

○ 07: i am right, i swear i'm right.

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