When I got to the park across the street from my house, I ran for the speed of it. Coat flying behind me, simply a desire to feel movement.
Checked messages to find that Matthew’s asking for Nerdly Game-Addict looking types for a Nintendo Commercial this Sunday, because, hey “We know you know a lot of that sort of people”. Nintendo pays well, yes, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Anyone interested? I’ll supply you with contact info, just drop me a line.
Open ways are too dangerous. This is the first time count-down. Delicious notes floating from the speakers. Threads of music tapestry style. Warren you make me think I’d kiss you back. Lucky we don’t know if I mean it. I laugh here, like a I smile mutter hello sweetheart at your letters and laugh out loud when I read them. Spanish lyric vocals, clock ticking, all with a little false vibrato accompanying my clicking computer keys. You’ve crept your tastes into my playlist. SEND / RECEIVE. There’s the sound of rain on the window, but everyone who lives in Vancouver writes about rain. Whimsical drops, hard pelting water. Jugs of it, seas, lakes, oceans – rivulets twisting. We splash in it, we dance, we determinably hide under black umbrellas and jab people’s eyes out. Goretex is an everyday word and trenchcoats are more than mafioso. I soaked my legs up to the thigh on the way home. I found a perfect puddle next to a playground and couldn’t resist. Added a pound to my weight, the green cloth turning darker to black as the water drenched through. Slide slip tongue sound of woodwinds when I flicked on my computer.
October, November, December. Who needs saving?
Don’t let me think it. My wings are shedding thier dreams.
Sweet sweet amour
I like it when people let me be without adding presumptions. I am not what you think I am, so what? Don’t hold your settings against me. It’s not my fault I don’t match your outline. This is not a cut diamond. Heartbeats are measured but not conciousness. Figure your own out. Inhibition libertarian. I’m a prude and I’m not yours to play with anymore. Right in front of you there’s a means of contact. Today I hope to talk to my love and I don’t know what I’ll say.
Which reminds me. I called Mr. Vitka. Confirmation, William, from across the street? It would be nice.