YELLOW DRESS.

“When I was a sophomore in high school, I attended my very first dance.
There was this girl, standing across the dance floor, wearing a yellow dress.
She was so beautiful.
I didn’t have the courage to ask her to dance, perhaps for fear of the long, lonely walk back across the gym floor after being refused.
I finally willed myself to go ask, and then suddenly, she was gone. In a fleeting second she must have left.
I began to imagine what she must have been like, her laugh, certainly her kiss. I still know exactly what that feels like, though I’ve never felt it.
She’s been a figment for twenty nine years. An imagined standard by which all other women seem to have fallen terribly short.
How could they not, after I have individualised her with every quality I so long for.
I’ve never met the girl in the yellow dress.
Seeing you I guess, I just.. “.

Alan Shore.

HE-MOTIONS.

“People walk around today calling everyone their best friend.
The term doesn’t have any real meaning anymore.
Mere acquaintances are lavished with hugs and kisses upon a second or at most, third meeting.
Birthday cards get passed around offices so everybody can scribble a snippet of sentimentality for a colleague they barely met.
And everyone just loves everyone.
As a result when you tell somebody you Love them today; it isn’t much heard”.

Alan Shore to Denny Crane.

YOU’RE NEXT.

I have a problem with Society’s definition of Miracles. Of Angels. Of Muses.

Too rigid, if you ask me. Fine; fine. You have not asked me. But you know me. (Moonwalks into room) !

Warrup, my good people.

My week has been something else. Then again, it always is, huh 🙂

Here’s the thing about moods; they ought to be un-doomable! Don’t allow your mood to be doomed, for Christ’s sake! (Irony. Shouts to my high school teacher of English. You once told me I’d end up with a massive command of the Language. Tease!)

Okay, where was I? Yes. My week. A girl 🙂 Okay, I’m well aware that I fall in love every other week. This one is different! I swear! Granted that’s a lie; so what though? Am I not allowed to keep my heart’s activities at a bare minimum? So what if I, apparently, cannot sustain a feeling longer than a couple months? Life? Lemons? Lemonade? I make do with monthly infatuations. And am I not always chirpy? 🙂 (Ello, you miserable bastards).

My week? Love. Next week? Love. The heart wants what it wants, no? Yours may want lengthy, exhausting, battering, tear-jerking Sensations. Mine wants up-beat. Day-at-a-time. Giddy. Non-recyclable; Sensations.

So watch out, now. I may fall in Love with you any minute 🙂