||[Jan. 30th, 2009|09:50 am]
The Zatara Diaries
|||||Starman: David Bowie||]|
9:41 AM The downside of going to bed earlier is waking up earlier. Now I have even more time to spend in this godforsaken T. Although I go home today! For a given value of home, that is. I go to the house where we have Thanksgiving dinner with Zatanna every year, even though she’s already eaten with the Justice League. At least I no longer have to spend time with Eddie’s new best friend Jaime and the rest of the Titans. Unfortunately that means I no longer get to spend time with Eddie. Ah, well. He can teleport. Perhaps we shall take this opportunity to spend the morning gallivanting about San Francisco. Surely he knows of things to do. I just have to somehow ask him if he wants to hang out without explicitly saying so. I have no desire to sound like either a prospective boyfriend or a total pussy. I mean, I am a prospective boyfriend, but I would like him to come to that conclusion sometime after he figures out his own sexuality. So as to avoid discomfort and awkward silences. You understand.
9:56 AM He’s still sleeping. It seems like waking him up would be much less reasonable when there is no longer a time difference between us. Surely I can entertain myself for an hour or so. How long can he sleep, anyway? I will find something do. I could start with breakfast and a shower. Perhaps I will watch TV. They have a gym here, I could work out for a little while. If I want to do that, I should shower afterwards. Hopefully he’ll be awake by then.
9:57 AM Goddamn it, I can enjoy myself without Eddie Bloomberg.
9:58 AM Although I might not see him for a little while. I should take advantage of this. It does not make me codependent or anything. I am simply choosing to spend time with a friend. This has nothing to do with the fact that I’d like to sleep with him. We are taking things slow, remember. I will have breakfast and then I will figure something out. It’s a nice day, so I will go for a run. When I get back, I will shower. There. Done. I am in control of my own destiny and so forth and so on. God, what has become of me? I used to be, well, not a complete and total pussy. I was awesome. I suppose I’m still awesome, just in a much more pathetic and unpleasant sort of way. Breakfast. Yes.
10:32 AM Oh, he is calling for me! I must phone all my girlfriends so we can discuss this new development. Then we can trade hair care tips and tell each other horror stories about lipstick gone wrong. I’ll just take out my rollers and tidy up in here, since apparently I am a housewife from the 1950’s. Not to worry, though, as I hear the 1960’s are right around the corner. I suppose here is where I talk about burning my bra, but I have standards.
3:44 PM Today I have learned that it is perfectly acceptable to wear tuxedo around San Francisco, provided your companion is bright red and shirtless. In fact, it is more acceptable to wear a tuxedo than a T-shirt and jeans, as Red Devil walking around with Zatara is less likely to cause a scene than Red Devil walking around with a mysterious and handsome civilian who bears a striking resemblance to Zatara if you look at him closely. Eddie, of course, is completely impossible to disguise, for reasons that are immediately obvious if you have ever laid eyes on him. This, of course, means everybody and their sister wanted to know if I was back with the Titans, since apparently these people have no talent for gossip. Surely they could ask if we were dating, or if that thing about the fishnets was true, or something of the sort. There are much more interesting rumors about me than that, honestly. The Sun, I hear, had a bit of a field day when I abruptly disappeared from Manchester. So did Weekly World News, although I only merited a brief mention in all the costume magazines, because they all had running features concerning the disappearing Titans and were, on the whole, more interested in where Black Canary gets her hair done. Personally, I’d rather read about where Starfire gets her hair done, and the sheer mechanics of it all. Does she have a whole team of hairdressers? Does she even cut her hair at all? Can it even be cut? How much shampoo does it take? These are the questions that keep me up at night. Anyway, we meandered about town for a little while, seeing the sights and what have you. It was nice. Not particularly fascinating, and not quite enough touching, but it was nice. We had lunch in a little café, which he must’ve chosen because of me, since that boy thinks ambience is slightly less important than what brand of toilet paper they use in the restroom. He kept talking about how bad he felt for not rescuing me, and how worried he was, and I half expected him to kiss me right then and there, but of course I am not living in a romance novel. Which is generally a good thing, considering the swooning and the insufferable prose and the really incredibly tacky cover designs, but still. Occasionally I wouldn’t mind a smidgen of cliché, although if you tell anyone I will hunt you down and smite your firstborn, after which I will utterly and completely destroy anything you have ever loved. That means you, Zatanna, if you’re reading this, which you should not be doing. You are at risk of a smitten firstborn. Is that what you really want out of life? But I digress. After lunch, we walked around some more, and then we hung out on the beach for an hour or so. It was a little cold, but fortunately Eddie radiates heat—this will come in handy someday, I am sure. He told me all about his and Jaime’s excellent adventures, which was kind of sweet, if you ignore the Jaime part. He also found a seashell, which was, for some reason, very exciting. Sometimes I just don’t understand that boy, I really don’t. He is very cute, though. He teleported me to the airport, actually, which was nice of him. I don’t see why he couldn’t just teleport me to Gotham, but I didn’t want to ask. I mean, I wouldn’t want him to think I was using him for his portals, useful as they might be. God, when did I get so fucking sensitive? It must be the journaling. Soon I shall be writing poetry and playing acoustic guitar. Ugh. I can’t believe I have four more hours of sitting on a plane. Why didn’t I just have him teleport me? He wouldn’t mind. He likes being useful. It makes him feel loved. Plus, I could be sitting in a magical library right now, reading rare texts on ancient Sumerian spellcasting or something. Possibly drinking tea or hot cocoa. Maybe I would have some cake or a slice of pizza. It would be infinitely more comfortable than this godforsaken airplane seat. First class? I laugh in your general direction. And where is Bunny? I haven’t seen her in, well, actually months. Supposedly she visited me at the hospital all the time, and brought me my notebook and so forth. Has someone kidnapped her? I must remember to check that out. Why would anyone possibly want to kidnap Bunny? To get to me? Do I have any enemies floating around these days? Does Bunny? Perhaps she is a renegade member of an evil organization of villainous assistants. It wouldn’t surprise me, the way my life has been going as of late. She’s probably just on vacation, really. I shouldn’t worry. Although, honestly, that in and of itself would be a problem. One does not go on vacation when one’s boss is in the hospital. It would mean she is even more of an idiot than I had initially thought. Do I have any books in my bag? Yes, I did grab a few things when I hit up the bookstore with Eddie earlier today. I might as well read them now, before I get distracted by esoteric spellbooks. And then I should probably try to sleep, since I may be up all night on account of getting distracted by esoteric spellbooks. Oh, esoteric spellbooks. This is going to be so great.
11:08 PM Finally at Shadowcrest. Could they have made it any more inaccessible? I practically had to ferry myself across a dark and mysterious lake just to make it up the driveway. Zatanna’s not home, of course. Nobody is, save these really rather nifty magical servants I’ve found. They are made of magic! It’s pretty amazing. I can’t imagine why Zatanna doesn’t live here full time. When she’s not on tour, of course, or staying at the Watchtower. The library is magnificent, of course. I’m just finishing up my snack, as I’d really rather not find that I’d forgotten to clean up some crumbs on some 13th century necromantic manuscript hand-illustrated by the forgotten monks of the Ravening Order of St. Elspeth the Unencumbered, as that might prove to be embarrassing. I’d better get started, now. If you don’t hear from me, assume I’m reading. However, you are a notebook, and wouldn’t worry in the first place. Plus, you can’t really assume anything, lacking in the necessary organs and all. Whatever. I’m off.
Alas, I won't be updating for a week or so, as I'll be stuck in a place with no internet. To tide you over, however, I have a rather fluffy fic with Bart in it over here.