i don't care what you might think about me, you'll get by without me if you want

i neglect because i love.

both Kitty and i agree that more people should use last.fm so we can all music stalk each other. ya dig? stalk me here, /catsilver and yea that's right kitty, i'm sharing your music taste as well, /kyriaki
_{OH! OH!} speaking of ms. kitty, i finally was able to catch up with her ^{(she's still away in the city of louvre)} and somehow we brought up the topic of paul simon's BRILLIANT and widely loved/loathed song You Can Call Me Al, off of a seriously solid, fantastic album; Graceland. i became really familiar with the album on my mom and my's drive from wellington, florida to red bank, new jersey when i was in middle school. our road trip was orchestrated to that album, Moby's Play, the soundtrack to the film Moulin Rouge, and perhaps the best of them all; an album composed of Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring, Rodeo, Billy the Kid, and Fanfare for the Common Man performed by The New York Philharmonic. so even though classical music that made me want to race chariots and eat beef beat out Mr. Simon, Graceland still came in a close second. moving on;

whilst chatting on the video camz~* with kitty the song came up and she sent me a link to the music video which features Chevy Chase and NOT Al Roker, even though i distinctly remember a video of Al Roker dancing around to the song sometime on The Today Show. Chase and Simon are below, watch it and dance, bebs.



after having the same discussion i had with my friend madeline with kitty i resigned myself to the fact i'll probably never find the video unless i write Mr. Roker - which is a possibility. but i did google the eff out of the options and found this little gem from what i believe to be is Al's website! maybe it was a live video of them dancing?! one day i'll solve this mystery.

monica and i are discussing how much we hate multi-tasking, and apparently her friend kat with a K sent her a link to the most brilliant website ever put on the interwebs.
BOBROSS.FM
as the site says, BobRoss.FM is just there for all of you that miss Bob, or just want to relax from a hectic day. and believe me, listening to him and his paint brush all scritchy-scratchy is entirely too soothing. happy clouds♥

TRAGEDY: apparently her smile was sunshine. i imagine it to be bright and toothy - there's a gap between the two front one but it gives her character when her name is as common as the needles found in the spaces between car seats in a shitty old ford that she drives with pride. no license, anonymity kept her safer when cash handling was a little off and nights were spent kicking chipped polished toes against the counter of a cheap diner or curled up with Stability in the form of a name that rolls off the tongue easily. french. origin doesn't matter, or maybe she had just divided the thoughts in her mind up and those that had anything to do with Real Life were pushed aside.

i thought more about it and i like to envision her silhouetted against the fading light away from the city underneath a bridge, cement walls decorated with graffiti - maybe her own name adorned there with a heart or a number written sloppily underneath it? she stands facing him and he's the one leaning on the wall. who knows if they kiss but she tugs at the strings of his sweatshirt and he brushes back some of her hair with a glazed look set past her and toward another boy. envy strikes but she stands by his side until the light is completely gone and then she's either alone or with him but in the back seat of the car parked in a well lit gas station sucking the tip of her thumb and falling into a sleep she'd sometimes rather not wake up from.

we've agreed on why she left. we've agreed on what it was that she felt but how it came about i can't pull out of memories or decipher from a silver chain that maybe just wants to move in the wind instead of pull to the right and then to the left. maybe she saw something she didn't like, she realized she couldn't fill a certain obnoxious gap that was pulled into her own future plans. she wanted more and even if he was willing to give it there was Another as there always is in these stories. but you have to realize that she wasn't the victim, the tragedy, the heroine, probably at most a catalyst but even the most unimportant women can still throw harsh words. if it was a quiet exit i'll never know but i know her emotions were too high for her to handle and she was probably far too low. i assume she left close to tears but without showing them to him. and i like to think that it went down under that same bridge, that he was tugging on her own sweatshirt this time and she wasn't pleading as much as she was simply bitter. strength was a hard thing to come by when you found yourself in a haze more often than not.

she found out that his vanishing act wasn't planned maybe a month after news broke. probably in the ford while using the newspaper to wipe up the mess of crumbs on the seats. maybe watching the news in the shitty diner where she'd always order a pepsi and side of cole slaw. i assume. i wish i knew exact details but i know she hurt down to the point where pain wasn't even there. it was a hollow feeling and then the Blame. it poured down on her and she berated herself while tightening the rubber on her arm, screaming and screaming until the liquid shot right into her stream and she fell into the blissful dizziness perhaps even he had been fond of. a day or two without food, a stop to get a new stash, maybe a run in with The Other but i don't think her death tied into the guilt of his. of course if she hadn't walked she would have prevented it, right? she would have found a way to bond them together and that'd save him from nightmares and her from emptiness. she may argue but i know better. fate ties people together and these binds are tight, constricting and the best way to block out others. she couldn't have fought it and maybe that realization was there in her mind when the last needle went in. the excess wasn't a plotted move.

the wish to keep that sleep came true and i'd put money on her lips being curled into a smile when the police finally stumbled upon the body.

photos from places and events are slowly being developed and returning to me. i. can. not. put. the. yashica. down.

a few from jj contramus' birthday at harry's banana farm





out in the everglades with vigil






et cetera

mary ann and jess at flaunt.

peter n' susan, wrestling in a tree.

jamison.


wellington storms.

a friend of adam

previously mentioned adam.


and now, a photographic timeline of awesome.
normal convo;



dancing queens!




no one should trust me with the screenshot option



au revoir, pomplemousses!