In response to Loud, I hadn't really thought about what kind of motorcycle... preferably one in a relatively un-motorcycle-like colour... like hot pink or something like that. Or maybe a red one... but aside from that, one that runs would be a good start, I think.
I call her Siren for different reasons. Her song tempted me, drew me out of myself and towards her only to dash those initial thoughts on the sharp rocks surrounding her. Reminding me why I was never cut out to be a sailor. As much as the song haunted me, it told me a lot about her as well, maybe a little more than she wanted me to know. She made me sing, when I was afraid, and for that I owe her a lot. Although I doubt she knows it. I hated her for a time, a hate fueled by jealousy, loneliness, and misunderstanding. And then I sailed away on the ripples of those small words that meant so much, and here I am, standing upright and unmystified, like a four-year-old marking her height on the door frame.
I'm sure Freud would have something to say about the funny dreams. I blame it on change of diet, actually getting as much sleep as I should, and the number of detective shows I'm watching. Maybe not so much that last one, but you get the idea.
Anyways, it's sunny and warm outside, so I'm going to rip myself off the computer chair and go outside. If anybody feels like joining me, feel free. It's too pretty a day to be by yourself.
Daydream Believer
1 comment:
another week of jobhunting? no luck with my tip?
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