Comfortable spaces are those that let you observe the world alone, but a crowd can often be more private than an empty space.
If I were a Celtic folk songstress I would sing on street corners until my lungs bled. And I wouldn't play the piano.
And here is where I play with my words:
The red wine on the table of facts has not affected us one bit, but the cute guys and chickens story at the local Taco Bell. All the cats seem to be running into themselves while Tommy, circuslike, slips on a red swimsuit. Swimming is the thought of the moment as the wound on my foot heals and I can only watch the fun. Too fucking long is how he describes the length of time it has been since he's eaten meat. Michael decides Tommy will be anal until his next sexual conquest, but Tommy thinks girls suck.
1 comment:
That calls to mind PURE dedication, to sing until one's lungs bleed.
And if Tommy thinks girls suck, but wants to go anal, he's got a surprise in store for him, doesn't he???
Love the poetic feel to this, by the way. Hope this comment finds you waxing well... ;-)
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