"I need somewhere to fall apart"
"here, would you like to do so...in my arms?"
[insert flashing debonair smile and Peter Cetera's "Glory of Love." ]
yes, my head came up with that all on it's own. sometimes I wonder if my brain actually belongs to me. it's quite possible that I had a brain transplant earlier on in life. one would assume that I'd remember something as significant as a lobotomy except that...I would have a new brain, therefore, deeming all previous memories obsolete.
I think I say those things, mostly, to amuse myself. I'm sure you're amused, too. But please don't judge me... I'm just bored.
I've been listening to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova sing and lament about the pains of unrequited love. I love the songs that they sing. They're simplistic and depressing, but beautiful, nonetheless. The songs are also inspiring; so much so that I have written my own lament about my exasperated (past) experiences with romance. I doubt that anyone will actually hear this song, though. It's not something I see myself playing for anyone; it's kind of embarrassing. And no, the lines that I began this journal entry with are not part of my song. (Though that would be ridiculously hysterical).
on a less related note: today, my brain forgot that it was March.
3 comments:
liNELL!! i love you too. and miss you. you are the jam in the pbj of life. (and i'm the peanut butter. does that make this awkward?)
no, not awkward at all.
...you realize that it's almost April, right? I mean, the fact that March is so near its end makes the forgetting more fortunate and more forgetful...
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