October 17, 200519 yr I mean, come on. This name pwns. On D Street there was no need for alarm clocks: the drays, ever punctual, were an army storming the gates of sleep. The wooden wagons were heavy and low-riding with loud rattling wheels, their broad planks too battered and begrimed to recall distant origins as trees. Each dray was pulled by horses--two, four, or sometimes six per wagon--pounding down nearby Third Street. Windows rattled and floors shook; the sound was a giant hand shaking Lydia Kilkenny 's sleeping shoulders. Each morning she did not awaken to the sound, but inside it. The sound of the drays came no matter what the season. In winter it came when the sky was still dark, the pounding hooves sharp reports against the frozen cobblestones. In summer, perhaps because the sky was already pale with light, the sound of the horses seemed kinder. She knew the clattering wagons were bound for Boston proper, but the vague tangle of streets that lay across the Broadway bridge surfaced in her mind with the sound of the horses and resubmerged with its diminishment. If you've read this far, I hope you realize it's pointless. As the flow of drays subsided--the wagons no longer traveling two across but single file--pounding hooves gave way to the creak of floorboards and the muffled voices of neighbors. Factory whistles blew. Church bells rang. The vegetable man made his way down D Street shouting, "Fresh tomatoes," even if there were no tomatoes, because those words distinguished him from the other vegetable men who plied their carts through Southie. As Lydia stirred, her mother put up water for cocoa and oatmeal. By the time Lydia had the little ones dressed, Michael and their father had finished their morning ablutions and the washbasin was hers alone. By the time she had brushed and pinned her hair, the drays were gone. Indeterminate Boston had once again been vanquished by the certainty of Southie.
October 17, 200519 yr On D Street there was no need for alarm clocks: the drays, ever punctual, were an army storming the gates of sleep. The wooden wagons were heavy and low-riding with loud rattling wheels, their broad planks too battered and begrimed to recall distant origins as trees. Each dray was pulled by horses--two, four, or sometimes six per wagon--pounding down nearby Third Street. Windows rattled and floors shook; the sound was a giant hand shaking Lydia Kilkenny 's sleeping shoulders. Each morning she did not awaken to the sound, but inside it. The sound of the drays came no matter what the season. In winter it came when the sky was still dark, the pounding hooves sharp reports against the frozen cobblestones. In summer, perhaps because the sky was already pale with light, the sound of the horses seemed kinder. She knew the clattering wagons were bound for Boston proper, but the vague tangle of streets that lay across the Broadway bridge surfaced in her mind with the sound of the horses and resubmerged with its diminishment. If you've read this far, I hope you realize it's pointless. As the flow of drays subsided--the wagons no longer traveling two across but single file--pounding hooves gave way to the creak of floorboards and the muffled voices of neighbors. Factory whistles blew. Church bells rang. The vegetable man made his way down D Street shouting, "Fresh tomatoes," even if there were no tomatoes, because those words distinguished him from the other vegetable men who plied their carts through Southie. As Lydia stirred, her mother put up water for cocoa and oatmeal. By the time Lydia had the little ones dressed, Michael and their father had finished their morning ablutions and the washbasin was hers alone. By the time she had brushed and pinned her hair, the drays were gone. Indeterminate Boston had once again been vanquished by the certainty of Southie. :stupid: :gaysex: :gaysex: :gaysex: :gaysex:
October 17, 200519 yr :stupid: :gaysex: :lolsign: :lolsign: :lolsign: honestly..how are you still here?
October 17, 200519 yr :stupid: :gaysex: :gaysex: :gaysex: :gaysex: lol he picked the wrong emoticon plz someone create one that says "I'm stupid" .. i think thats what he really searched for :)
October 18, 200519 yr lol he picked the wrong emoticon plz someone create one that says "I'm stupid" .. i think thats what he really searched for :) :stupid: :stupid: :stupid: :stupid: :stupid:
October 18, 200519 yr :stupid: :stupid: :stupid: :stupid: :stupid: Someone should make a collage of all of aussie_kings posts that use smilies. I would pay good money for it.
October 18, 200519 yr :stupid: :stupid: :stupid:........... TEH WORNGS AGAIN!!1 but hey! i like you so heres one for yuo; http://img12.imageshack.us/img12/7791/stupid7ho.gif
