signature moves.
Im tired and shouldn’t be writing. I want to be part of anything that I see as bigger and more attractive than what I have around me. Then I look at what I have done thus far and where I should be based on my decisions and guess what… I end up seeing myself sitting at this computer writing about the things in life that I want that I don’t have. Of course of course though “look at what you have and appreciate it.” That I will do and have done. I don’t hate my life. I don’t want to hate my life or the things in it. i feel that envying others is very negative. When I see pictures of celebrities or successful people sitting on their yahts with their hemp jump suits kicking their feet up on the wood grain, sipping their blood mary’s I think hard and intensely about how I want to be there. I want to feel the same exact breeze they are feeling. Envy. I want to feel that loved one they have wrapped under their arm. Envy. My army of thoughts can get me to a similar situation but the let down is that m y situation won’t be on the cover of any magazine. My situation, in reality, in my reality, won’t be a photo shoot. And if I was there my thought’s wouldn’t be the same as I think they would be. I would probably be worrying about what im going to do after I park my yacht back at the harbor and where im going to have dinner… slow down for a second. What are you going to have for dinner when you get back from your day long yachting trip with your super intelligent photographer/actress wife of yours? We will probably be yachting off the shores of new york so I’d say we go out and splurge at an expensive Italian restaurant. Yeah. I’ll change and shower with her on the boat. We won’t let each other out of each others arms until we have to put our clothes on. This will all make sense to the both of us. She will try to convince me that we need to stay in and that she’s not hungry. She will suggest peanut butter and jelly. She will recall memories of the pbj fiasco she had when she was a child. I don’t know the details of this story but im sure she will tell me when we get there.
we will have to go to dinner because I will have promised my old friend who is now the CEO for one of the largest gaming companies in the world that we would discuss my new book over wine and lasagna. She loves to hear me talk about my writing. She loves to read about her paintings and pictures and movies. Her busy schedule gets her so wrapped up at times that she reads articles in the New York Times about my review of her work at a gallery that made me fall back falling for her again and again and again. This feeling may make my chest and head implode. Her flawless porcelain arms envelop me as she tackles me onto the bed.
When we get there we park our Prius in regular parking and pay the guy an extra twenty bucks because we know what its like to have to drive other peoples cars to get that skrill that makes your breakfast taste that much sweeter. He thanks us sweetly while he flashes his over worked eyes at our completely relaxed body structures which are now made of goofy rubber love.
The night time air carries us to the front door of some fancy one syllable restaurant that makes people feel like they had to know somebody to get in. As we approach the front door the owner greets us sweetly to make us feel like if we didn’t know him we wouldn’t be eating there. This woman on my arm whispers in my ear “do you want to pretend we are pregnant then order some wine and see his reaction!” I look at her, squeeze her tight and laugh “Of course sweet heart. What ever makes you happy”
we will have to go to dinner because I will have promised my old friend who is now the CEO for one of the largest gaming companies in the world that we would discuss my new book over wine and lasagna. She loves to hear me talk about my writing. She loves to read about her paintings and pictures and movies. Her busy schedule gets her so wrapped up at times that she reads articles in the New York Times about my review of her work at a gallery that made me fall back falling for her again and again and again. This feeling may make my chest and head implode. Her flawless porcelain arms envelop me as she tackles me onto the bed.
When we get there we park our Prius in regular parking and pay the guy an extra twenty bucks because we know what its like to have to drive other peoples cars to get that skrill that makes your breakfast taste that much sweeter. He thanks us sweetly while he flashes his over worked eyes at our completely relaxed body structures which are now made of goofy rubber love.
The night time air carries us to the front door of some fancy one syllable restaurant that makes people feel like they had to know somebody to get in. As we approach the front door the owner greets us sweetly to make us feel like if we didn’t know him we wouldn’t be eating there. This woman on my arm whispers in my ear “do you want to pretend we are pregnant then order some wine and see his reaction!” I look at her, squeeze her tight and laugh “Of course sweet heart. What ever makes you happy”