romantic

All posts tagged romantic

Gothic Days

Published February 17, 2013 by Sandee

cloudy3

An overcast day only hinting of sun suits my mood.  I like taking walks in it.  When dusty clouds tinged with peach, pink, turquoise and orange hover, my thoughts are romantic.  Pathetically I imagine living in that old gothic building jutting over the Hudson, or have a cotton-headed fantasy about the preference bestowed upon me by the universe, wherein hordes of lovely people who like my books buttress my existence with praise and favor in all manner, form and “activity.”

The texture of clouds and colors on these days are the canvas for the depths of my thoughts and for the melancholy hue of self-indulgence.  I’m not afraid to allow myself to be seen, to reveal myself in this atmosphere, and can discuss with myself, out loud – if walking on a quiet road — how to handle an ongoing conflict with the obese service worker, or the blatant truth about the direction of my life, or the spiritual benefit of never blaming anyone other than myself.

Centuries old artists capture the beauty of the powdery, melancholy sky as a palette against the flora or peasant’s valley.  As a transporting exercise in recreation, I imagine the woods across the street against a pastel textured, dark-hued sky a hundred and fifty years past.

I prefer this to the harassment and shock of a sheer blue day.  The demand, the brightness shining on every flaw of my life are too much for me to endure at times.  The intrusion is audacious — it embodies the collective idea that it’s the perfection of days and that I should be impelled to romp about in it to serve my health.

What crap is this?  The sun burning my eyes, my chest clenched with the weight of all this expectation.  Bah.  My name is Sandee, and I’m not a great fan of the overbearing sun.

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Oblivion and *penis

Published January 21, 2013 by Sandee

Pahtee

I saw my friend outside of the bar, taking a break from drinking to smoke cigarettes.  I hadn’t seen him in a while.

‘Hey you.  You drinking these days?’  He says.

‘Nah,’ I told him.

We used to stay in the bar until daylight — what a waste of time.  We even ate our dinner at the bar counter.

My friend’s an ex-cop.  He’s pretty tough.  He looked out for me when we drank together, way back when you could smoke in bars.

‘You were so bad ass,’ I said when I saw him.  When I got drunk he’d bring me home and be a gentleman about it.  At some point we were “romantically” involved.  Some “romantic involvement” I remember, some I don’t.  Shame.  But anyway — I miss that lifestyle when I want to glamorize it, because I’m an asshole.  It was pathetic, going around in circles, obsessed with drinking.

I wasn’t there to experience what should have been good times because I’d be drunk, blacked out.  Sorry to be a drama queen, but I’m lucky I got away from it with my life.

This video from the movie Shamus reminded me of then.  I would be in the Burt Reynolds’ role, minus the penis and mustache – though, sometimes I think it’d be nice to have a penis.

By posting the video, maybe I am glamorizing the lifestyle, because Burt Reynolds is a sexy bastard, but when I actually imagine myself in this position, it’s sad – especially when it happens more than once.  Like, grow the hell up!

After a night of cavorting, Shamus gets up — no shower — just puts his funky ass clothes back on…ah, memories.  Check out the way he looks at the shoe – haha!

* “PENIS” was just a cheap trick to get your attention I’m afraid.