(no subject)
i want to sing to you, my love. my only love and happiness. don't be so blue, so blue, my love. take off your shoes. take off my dress. i want to sing to you, my love.
hmmm....i just checked my email a couple minutes ago and there was the message telling me my flight to PARIS, FRANCE is confirmed. AHH. how fucking beautiful is that?
i've been going to the gym. i'm feeling a lot better about my health and appearance now that i'm seriously making an effort.
wine. elephants. warmth. tea. books. dancing shoes. soup.
these are a few of my favorite things.
i'm not even sure why i write in this anymore. i'm pretty positive the only person who reads this is joe. not that you don't matter my dear! i guess sometimes it's calming to lay down a couple random thoughts on the internet. i don't know why this is reassuring, but let's just pretend there is a reason.
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
Sonnet 116. I like knowing a sonnet by heart. I don't read enough Shakespeare, and i should. What is better than romanticism? What is better than love? I want to spend my summer at the shore, laying in the sand and writing love notes to strangers. I want to swim out in the waves and toss bottles of love into the sea, where hopefully a depressed mermaid or fisherman might find one and smile. I want to eat love, marinated with seaweed and garnished with shells. I want to sing like the Sirens, only I won't lead my prisoners to death. Instead, they can remain hostage in my yellow bungalow and their torture shall be to help plant more daises in the garden and dance with me every night to Nina, Ella, and Billie. They'll be allowed one hour of indoors recreation daily, and they'll have to spend the rest of their time rolling around in the sand and napping in the sun with me and four puppies by their side. And trust me, they'll want to drop the soap in the shower. I'd love to be a prisoner of love anytime, any day.
hmmm....i just checked my email a couple minutes ago and there was the message telling me my flight to PARIS, FRANCE is confirmed. AHH. how fucking beautiful is that?
i've been going to the gym. i'm feeling a lot better about my health and appearance now that i'm seriously making an effort.
wine. elephants. warmth. tea. books. dancing shoes. soup.
these are a few of my favorite things.
i'm not even sure why i write in this anymore. i'm pretty positive the only person who reads this is joe. not that you don't matter my dear! i guess sometimes it's calming to lay down a couple random thoughts on the internet. i don't know why this is reassuring, but let's just pretend there is a reason.
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
Sonnet 116. I like knowing a sonnet by heart. I don't read enough Shakespeare, and i should. What is better than romanticism? What is better than love? I want to spend my summer at the shore, laying in the sand and writing love notes to strangers. I want to swim out in the waves and toss bottles of love into the sea, where hopefully a depressed mermaid or fisherman might find one and smile. I want to eat love, marinated with seaweed and garnished with shells. I want to sing like the Sirens, only I won't lead my prisoners to death. Instead, they can remain hostage in my yellow bungalow and their torture shall be to help plant more daises in the garden and dance with me every night to Nina, Ella, and Billie. They'll be allowed one hour of indoors recreation daily, and they'll have to spend the rest of their time rolling around in the sand and napping in the sun with me and four puppies by their side. And trust me, they'll want to drop the soap in the shower. I'd love to be a prisoner of love anytime, any day.