MY red right ankle...
This is the story of your red right ankle
And how it came to meet your leg
And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled
And how the skin was softly shed
And how it whispered “Oh, adhere to me
For we are bound by symmetry
And whatever differences our lives have been
We together make a limb.”
This is the story of your red right ankle.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle
You never knew ‘cause he was dead
And how his face was carved and rift with wrinkles
In the picture in your head.
And remember how you found the key
To his hide-out in the Pyrenees
But you wanted to keep his secret safe
So you threw the key away.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle.
This is the story of the boys who loved you
Who love you now and loved you then
And some were sweet, some were cold and snuffed you
And some just laid around in bed.
Some had crumbled you straight to your knees
Did it cruel, did it tenderly
Some had crawled their way into your heart
To rend your ventricles apart
This is the story of the boys who loved you
This is the story of your red right ankle.
Those lyrics are from my favorite song of the moment: "Red Right Ankle" by The Decemberists. To me this song--in sound and in word--is the perfect illustration of friendship. The first verse...ankle and leg meeting..."together we form a limb." You can take it literally to mean...an ankle and a leg meeting...or you can take it figuratively...two people meeting and forming a unique bond. I don't know...like I said before...I feel so lost without Dan here, and when Nick leaves it'll just heighten that feeling. I feel like someone has chopped me off at the knees...taken something from me that I need to function. I can live without them, but it's all the more difficult. Moving on...the last verse...about the boys...really makes me think of all the guy friends I've had and how different they all have been. There isn't one of them out there who didn't have some sort of impact on me...thought it might not be as great of an impact as say...my friendship with Jason...or with Dan and Nick. I'm going to look for the tablature to this song online...and hopefully tutor myself to play it this summer.
So the end of the year is rapidly approaching. Nick will be leaving on Wednesay...I have 3 finals on Thursday, Mom is getting here, too...and then I am going home on Friday. It really is hard to believe that this year is over already. It seems like just yesterday that it was September 9th and I was meeting Dan and Nick for the first time and going cliff jumping. I have so many great memories from this year. I've said it before and I'm saying it again now...I would really have no problem having the next 3 years of college being exactly like this one. I don't care that I didn't party...I had more fun watching movies and going to Taco Bell with Dan and Nick than I ever would have had going out and getting drunk and gropped by frat guys.
Hmmm...my stream of conciousness kind of ended right there...
I've got a new Sharpie tattoo on my right ankle. It's not a soccer ball, clover, or BMW logo...it's an orange dot.
And how it came to meet your leg
And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled
And how the skin was softly shed
And how it whispered “Oh, adhere to me
For we are bound by symmetry
And whatever differences our lives have been
We together make a limb.”
This is the story of your red right ankle.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle
You never knew ‘cause he was dead
And how his face was carved and rift with wrinkles
In the picture in your head.
And remember how you found the key
To his hide-out in the Pyrenees
But you wanted to keep his secret safe
So you threw the key away.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle.
This is the story of the boys who loved you
Who love you now and loved you then
And some were sweet, some were cold and snuffed you
And some just laid around in bed.
Some had crumbled you straight to your knees
Did it cruel, did it tenderly
Some had crawled their way into your heart
To rend your ventricles apart
This is the story of the boys who loved you
This is the story of your red right ankle.
Those lyrics are from my favorite song of the moment: "Red Right Ankle" by The Decemberists. To me this song--in sound and in word--is the perfect illustration of friendship. The first verse...ankle and leg meeting..."together we form a limb." You can take it literally to mean...an ankle and a leg meeting...or you can take it figuratively...two people meeting and forming a unique bond. I don't know...like I said before...I feel so lost without Dan here, and when Nick leaves it'll just heighten that feeling. I feel like someone has chopped me off at the knees...taken something from me that I need to function. I can live without them, but it's all the more difficult. Moving on...the last verse...about the boys...really makes me think of all the guy friends I've had and how different they all have been. There isn't one of them out there who didn't have some sort of impact on me...thought it might not be as great of an impact as say...my friendship with Jason...or with Dan and Nick. I'm going to look for the tablature to this song online...and hopefully tutor myself to play it this summer.
So the end of the year is rapidly approaching. Nick will be leaving on Wednesay...I have 3 finals on Thursday, Mom is getting here, too...and then I am going home on Friday. It really is hard to believe that this year is over already. It seems like just yesterday that it was September 9th and I was meeting Dan and Nick for the first time and going cliff jumping. I have so many great memories from this year. I've said it before and I'm saying it again now...I would really have no problem having the next 3 years of college being exactly like this one. I don't care that I didn't party...I had more fun watching movies and going to Taco Bell with Dan and Nick than I ever would have had going out and getting drunk and gropped by frat guys.
Hmmm...my stream of conciousness kind of ended right there...
I've got a new Sharpie tattoo on my right ankle. It's not a soccer ball, clover, or BMW logo...it's an orange dot.