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Jul. 11th, 2010 10:41 amday 18
a song you wish you heard on the radio
"Jackie" by Bossa Nostra. it's not very well known but it's a fucking amazing song and I'd also like to hear it played during a "House being depressed" scene. here's a link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeA3wva2OJY
( just listen to the song and think about it playing in the background before House goes into the bar.)
Incompatibility
Chapter 3
The rain had stopped by five in the afternoon but the pavement was still wet. House was so anxious to avoid Cuddy that he'd actually done clinic duty almost all day without complaining about it. He hadn't even bitched about the severely demented ninety-year-old with Alzheimer's who kept wandering around the hospital corridors yelling and claiming to be deposed royalty, considering him no more than a distraction.
If sex with Cuddy hadn't been good maybe he could have used that as an excuse to break up with her but that wasn't the problem, it was just a personality clash. It had stopped being "fun sexy banter" ages ago, now they were just being bitchy with eachother most of the time. "Let's face it," he thought "I'm too chickenshitted to break up with her because even though I'm not happy, I'd feel worse if I didn't have anybody. Anyway, I'm no prize myself."
He walked out of the hospital building towards the parking lot and slipped and fell on the wet pavement. "Owwww, goddamnit!!"
One of the male nurses who happened to be entering the building as he was leaving, bent down and offered him a hand, helping him to get up. Normally, he would have refused this gesture, snapping into full on House I-don't-want-your-pity mode, but he felt so emotionally weary at this point he suddenly didn't care about that and accepted it, even going so far as to look at the guy's name tag and mutter, "Thanks, Barron," quietly.
He got on his motorcycle and took off, his sole concession to the wet pavement being a tendency to ride a little more slowly than he would otherwise.
He was going to go directly home but he passed by a bar a couple of blocks from his place and impulsively stopped for a drink. Maybe a few drinks. As he got off his bike he slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and turned his cell off.
He walked into the bar and saw Wilson, who looked like he was in an even worse mood.
to be continued
a song you wish you heard on the radio
"Jackie" by Bossa Nostra. it's not very well known but it's a fucking amazing song and I'd also like to hear it played during a "House being depressed" scene. here's a link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeA3wva2OJY
( just listen to the song and think about it playing in the background before House goes into the bar.)
Incompatibility
Chapter 3
The rain had stopped by five in the afternoon but the pavement was still wet. House was so anxious to avoid Cuddy that he'd actually done clinic duty almost all day without complaining about it. He hadn't even bitched about the severely demented ninety-year-old with Alzheimer's who kept wandering around the hospital corridors yelling and claiming to be deposed royalty, considering him no more than a distraction.
If sex with Cuddy hadn't been good maybe he could have used that as an excuse to break up with her but that wasn't the problem, it was just a personality clash. It had stopped being "fun sexy banter" ages ago, now they were just being bitchy with eachother most of the time. "Let's face it," he thought "I'm too chickenshitted to break up with her because even though I'm not happy, I'd feel worse if I didn't have anybody. Anyway, I'm no prize myself."
He walked out of the hospital building towards the parking lot and slipped and fell on the wet pavement. "Owwww, goddamnit!!"
One of the male nurses who happened to be entering the building as he was leaving, bent down and offered him a hand, helping him to get up. Normally, he would have refused this gesture, snapping into full on House I-don't-want-your-pity mode, but he felt so emotionally weary at this point he suddenly didn't care about that and accepted it, even going so far as to look at the guy's name tag and mutter, "Thanks, Barron," quietly.
He got on his motorcycle and took off, his sole concession to the wet pavement being a tendency to ride a little more slowly than he would otherwise.
He was going to go directly home but he passed by a bar a couple of blocks from his place and impulsively stopped for a drink. Maybe a few drinks. As he got off his bike he slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and turned his cell off.
He walked into the bar and saw Wilson, who looked like he was in an even worse mood.
to be continued
