I wish I had my camera phone still. I would take a picture of the windows in my room letting in the bright yet fading light of this February 12 winter's day. I have so much to say that it just seems easier to look at the tiny yellowish green leaves braving the cold, and wonder if they will stay til summer. ForChristmas, Naomi gave me these two lovely plastic plates with purple dogwoods on them. They perch perfectly on each of the handles of my window. Between them is a picture of the Boondogs and their little boy and big dog. I will be relying on the 10 cups of sugared-in-the-pot, Dulce de Leche Coffeemate-laden coffee previously consumed to fuel this one-sided conversation and not unlike other one-sided conversations we've all found ourselves (not) a part of, it may seem like the one talking is masking an unseemly amount of insomnia. Insomnia is usually unseemly, I would say, unless it is Seymour Glass's insomnia or some guy who is going to propose the next day. Aaahhh... an actual subject. I am so done pretending to be writer now. Was it fun for anyone at all? That's another thing people that drink coffee instead of sleep tend to do, I bet. So there's sort of a reason for the no sleeping thing on my part. "Thank you for calling YOUR 24 hour Walgreen's, this is Shaniqua, can I help you?" That 's my line. Last night I helped a guy from Chicago with an African accent pick out a Valentine present for a girl who he has known for 6 months and came in with a little piece of paper with the word "ALMONDS" written on it. I also met the sweet, waifish German girl who bought some German chocolate, Toffinay or something, and I told her I liked Nutella and she said "Yah, it's so much better than peanut butter. Because it has chocolate. That's the part I really like anyway, the chocolate." We were in total sync. She has Dido hair, almost exactly. As a matter of fact, the night started off really nicely with a Dido song playing and me thinking about my boyfriend during the whole thing and pretty much making sure no one got to leave the store knowing my eyecolor. "And even if I'm there, they'll all imply that I might not last the day, and then you call me and it's not so bad, it's not so baa aa ad...NnDAH-ahhh Want to Thank You..." Also spoke with some Turkish-ly delightful girls as well. One girl as white and strawberry blonde as I was but her two friends had some dark chocolate hair and clothes trendy enough to have been borrowed from E., the German girl's closet. They were talking the whole time they were checking out, all using the same credit card to pay for their orders separately. I said "Together?" And they said "Yes." Then when I started to put the next girl's order on the previous, one that spoke the most often to me said one of her total of 4 sentences to me, "Separate." They were a great picture of Together and still Separate in the way they looked so different but the conversation didn't seem to have a starting or stopping point. The language had both the runnning into itself nicely that French seems to and the occasional sharp corners that French doesn't seem to. That coffee is making me take sharp corners in order not to...nevermind. Not going to finish that metaphor. So I have alluded to one thing...I almost gave up dragging everyone around like this but just know I've been along for the ride and all its sudden turns with you and now I just want to say, the ride is so much nicer with Leigh Nash's music. At least the bumps are accounted for and the starkness is stared at squarely. Oh yeah, done being a writer. Right. So, going to push play again on her myspace to the song "Along the Wall."
If you ask me to come, I'll say Go
If you say you love me, I'll say 'Sure if you say so.'
whatever you tell me, I wont believe you
If you try, try to make me
oooo i would like to know which one is willing to lose
All along the wall
Between us
I see a teacher [something 80s in her voice here]
there for us
i look at the wall
i see right through it
there is a door
where I am standing
without a key
without a clue
without you [here she sounded like Jewel]
i am wandering
wondering about you
its a cold cold night
are you gonna call me?
and tell me about
how i go on and on about you
being like you used to be
how it's all
about me
ooo i would like to know
who is the wounded one
which one would make the move?
which one is willing to lose
i see a teacher
there for us
i look at the wall, I see right through it
i lean on the wall
there for us
you're my heaven
and my feet
beyond myself
you're my shadow
i am hollow
all along the wall...
So what I started this all about is to tell everyone about this boy whose voice I make a point to hear every day, more regularly than I brush my teeth, if you want to know the truth. Time to let the fireflies go! I hear you scream. Thank you if you were one of the few who believed they were still alive, slow-moving though they be, and are still reading. Our hands. They seem to know better than us that we should be together. He never seems to be weary of me/mywords/myface/mystupidhairandoutfitsand'lip-lick" but i was reminded by Someone Very Important that
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