1) The music I am putting on my iPod that I haven’t listened to in way too long. There is so much old sentiment behind it (Athenaeum).
2) Reading another blog that reminds me of my life five years ago. The city of Chicago can seriously change a person.*
3) An hour long conversation with my best friend from high school whom I haven’t talked to in ages.
4) Alcohol**
I am feeling massive emotions . . . I had to take a break from typing and go sit outside and breathe some fresh air - no stars out though. One thing I will not miss about Chi-town is the lack of stars. I love (unabashed blugging) my new my GPS; but I guarantee I will turn it off at some point in South Carolina so I can find my way home by Orion. I miss the late nights (early mornings) when we did the “let’s see where this road takes us - get lost and see if we can find our way home.” In particular, I loved the night of Grocery Road in Columbia, MO. It was such a great road. I actually went back to find it again a few days later and it was gone - never could find Grocery Road again. It is a fab name for a road though, Grocery. Another name I saw from the back of my Aunt's Harley in Florida: Sea Grape. I would like to retire some day on a road called Sea Grape. Much better than the lane I am on now that people confuse with my own name, and everyone always spells wrong. . .
The iPod is lovely. I recognize I am late on this bus; however, it is beautifully new to me. It's like a blankie I was missing that is now always by my side to comfort me - any song for the soundtrack to my life, ready at any given moment. Best music ever at the touch of a button. Is it possible I lived a full life without all my precious music there with me? (see, I said it was melodramatic.) The times that would have been enhanced if only I had THAT song available right THEN.
If you're ever on Jeopardy - A group of eels is called a swarm. A group of unicorns is called a blessing.
- lada shot the sheriff, but she did not shoot the deputy
* Glorious - drinking a gimlet, reading someone’s innermost thoughts that they wrote long before they ever knew you or knew you would read their blog. I feel a bit voyeuristic. (yet it makes you love someone because it is so personal at times. . . )
** My day: Fuck you Realtor – you called me “girl” – you said my upgrades were “too much money” – screw your platinum Remax status – I hate the smell of Ajax on my hands because I scrubbed and disinfected the entire house so you couldn’t take pictures because you forget your camera - fuck your 5% commission – screw the apples, lemons, oranges and limes I put into a bowl as a centerpiece so the dinning room would look appealing; I’m making a delicious organic gimlet out of those very limes right now.*** Yes, I need to discuss it with my husband, and no, we will not be calling you back to sign a contract. Piss off. I'm calling the second choice, Karen G___.
2 comments:
I actually started to write you a letter the other night about similar sentiments I was having . . . but then I read it the next morning and trashed it cuz I felt it was too corny.
I had a road in athens once called "Nowhere Road." My memories of that road were attempting to recover my alcoholic roomate's (andy)from a ditch on said road. I like that road, and there's an 18 minute song about it called "Nowhere Road, Georgia, Feb. 21 2005." It's not that good a song, but it combines the memory of the road with the sentimentality inherent in every song that's special to someone. Sometimes I listen to the song and wonder what happened to the artist on that road, on that particular night. Tis a melodramatic night for all apparently. Melodrama is permissible exactly one time a week.
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