Edit: An Account
Hey remeber that time? That time when nothing was or-i-gin-al. I could go for a gin and tonic on the back deck. This is unrealistic though, because there is no gin on my parent's wet table. Tonic is bland when there is no gin. Come on back gin. (I'm waiting, I'm waiting.)
In a confused and lucid state, I rolled out of bed feeling like I had left an organ in a silver car the night before. Downstairs I walked, and without hesitation or formal preparation I inserted The Godfather Part II into my DVD player, and proceeded to view both discs, along with Part III consecutively following. All from the comfort of the left side of my couch. By myself, with notions of honour and family and murder to keep me company.
I'm not sure what I did when the last frame faded, but eventually Bri came over and we watched Breakfast at Tiffany's. I asked my mom to rent it for me, so she bought it instead. We sat on the couch and ate sunflower seeds and popcorn and milk and Iced Tea. We brushed our teeth and fell into Ali's bed because it is big enough for two and Ali will be M.I.A. for the next two months. Talks are best after midnight, with shadows on the ceiling and shared sheets.
Morning brought wandering and multiple trips to Second Cup. A group went to Jess's where much Strawberry Shortcake and homemade dip was consumed. Back porches and plastic furniture and Lays and canned beverages.
Mom picked me up. I brought her shopping. This kind of mother-daughter activity is very rare, but it is always enjoyed by both parties. I keep her young in colours she would never pick out herself and she keeps me clothed when I have $3 in my bank accout.Frozen Yogurt for dinner, raspberry peach of course. We drove along the backstreets and she nodded along with the staccato, as a russian-born songstress filled the car and all the empty air it passed through. As she gave blood, I walked down main-street, unfazed by the threatening winds, and tested out Stouffville's new coffee shop, For the Love Of Joe. It is cute and comfortable and very trendy for a hicktown like Stouffville. I sipped an Iced Moccachino and read about Pride and Peaches on the big couch in the corner.
When we got home, mom fainted on the driveway. "Ummm... how did i get here?" she told me when I asked her what it felt like. My dad brought her a granola bar because she needed it but she didn't want it. I brought up Nannie McPhee and we watched it together on her bed.
This all just an effort. A splendid distraction. It is most discomforting, this feeling that stretches all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.
In a confused and lucid state, I rolled out of bed feeling like I had left an organ in a silver car the night before. Downstairs I walked, and without hesitation or formal preparation I inserted The Godfather Part II into my DVD player, and proceeded to view both discs, along with Part III consecutively following. All from the comfort of the left side of my couch. By myself, with notions of honour and family and murder to keep me company.
I'm not sure what I did when the last frame faded, but eventually Bri came over and we watched Breakfast at Tiffany's. I asked my mom to rent it for me, so she bought it instead. We sat on the couch and ate sunflower seeds and popcorn and milk and Iced Tea. We brushed our teeth and fell into Ali's bed because it is big enough for two and Ali will be M.I.A. for the next two months. Talks are best after midnight, with shadows on the ceiling and shared sheets.
Morning brought wandering and multiple trips to Second Cup. A group went to Jess's where much Strawberry Shortcake and homemade dip was consumed. Back porches and plastic furniture and Lays and canned beverages.
Mom picked me up. I brought her shopping. This kind of mother-daughter activity is very rare, but it is always enjoyed by both parties. I keep her young in colours she would never pick out herself and she keeps me clothed when I have $3 in my bank accout.Frozen Yogurt for dinner, raspberry peach of course. We drove along the backstreets and she nodded along with the staccato, as a russian-born songstress filled the car and all the empty air it passed through. As she gave blood, I walked down main-street, unfazed by the threatening winds, and tested out Stouffville's new coffee shop, For the Love Of Joe. It is cute and comfortable and very trendy for a hicktown like Stouffville. I sipped an Iced Moccachino and read about Pride and Peaches on the big couch in the corner.
When we got home, mom fainted on the driveway. "Ummm... how did i get here?" she told me when I asked her what it felt like. My dad brought her a granola bar because she needed it but she didn't want it. I brought up Nannie McPhee and we watched it together on her bed.
This all just an effort. A splendid distraction. It is most discomforting, this feeling that stretches all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.