I awoke in the morning sometimes on the Sundays I had off from work. I recall a rather special time in my life. Definitely around months like these, with premonitions of holiday nostalgia,. ( along with drunken euphoria). The marketing and graphic design of the upper middle-class Australian pinot noir. One Christmas we built a holiday tree silhouette constructed of these bottles. The tree however became resigned to an intoxicated tumble somewhere in between the twelve nights of Xmas.
She had one of the best faces I've ever known. Crimson hair and scarlet features among the snow dunes. I've never seen her on a sled. Though one thing struck me as peculiar with her,. and many things about her struck me as naive. When she drove a car,. she would wear a scarf around her neck,. (in the mid-to-late seasons),. but never a hat,. I recall a rather frigid frost-bitten day with negative wind chills and attitudes. We were strolling downtown toward the Ritz theatres and her ears were so cold I couldn't even listen to her. I tried all the bargaining I could at that time ( in what to me was a convincing fashion) to get her to purchase a hat. She just could not. I suppose she was a bit stubborn. Who knows what I was?
Well then ,. Cycles and patterns have permitted nothing similar to comfort me in these present familiar days. An apology is significant to the leisurely people., with excess time to rebuild, construct, and destruct. The people who have time to forgive are on a separate playing field with the working class people. The future holds nothing to me but indecision and what ever the past had to offer.
I shall keep my mouth shut most of the time now and then. I will hear people with half the effort my listening skills provide. When I do speak,. It shall be in distinct tongues. An acquired accent. A geological twist somewhere between bible-belt Southern and Pie-kissed Antarctican. It'll be like I just had a threesome with my sister and an Asian Eskimo. Getting back to where I started now,. These times in my life I remember are very special to me. The truth is that I cannot back the time I lost,. and I cannot relive the times I once lived.
The love I feel and have felt in my heart is still real,. (it was never artificial),. the booze i drank and still drink are still intoxicating. The calendars I will still through on to the fire,. to kindle another year,. Your face and colour I will always remember. The fresh scent of Pantene on ones hair., (or a certain fabric softener.,) all the LSD i have eaten you can't drain out of my spine with any apparatus. and my god is a loving one.
