The Magical Mobile Reception Circle

I thought I’d share my locale de inspiration, since I have to spend so much time here. If the library’s closed (which, depending on Bron Jones’s bowel schedule, it generally is), I have to climb this baby mountain and sit in a witches’ circle, to get that half a bar on my mobile that represents a connection, a lifeline out of this toilet bowl. The climb always makes me feel like an ant, struggling against the swirling tide flushing us all down into ancient history.

I’m not much into stone circles, never cared about fairy stories or tales of witchcraft or druidism. People believe some batshit crazy stuff, especially when they’re in the ass-end of nowhere with nothing to do. They probably even did some of that batshit crazy stuff around here, dancing naked and brewing potions and praying to full moons at harvest time or whatever. At least till TV came along and they found a less strenuous way to worship crap. I've never messed around with paganism or incense, never sat in this circle and wondered if the stones hid magic and spirits. They’re rocks in a circle. Woo-hoo.

A few months ago, I only bothered to make this climb once or twice a week, when the boredom crested into a continuous, barely repressed scream in my throat. I'd found some American chat rooms, the time difference meaning they still had people in them once I'd kicked the old codgers out of the pub. It had been hard to find sites that were anything more than horny nerds trying to hook up, or horny pedos trying to fish personal details out of kids who had too much computer time and too little parental supervision.

Sometimes, when I found a site that wasn't all about the hormonal urge to mate, even through cables and wireless signals, I just sat there and lurked. And that’s how I met Tal.

Huh. This post turned out to be about something way different from where I started. There you go.