stuberosum's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- mission australia canadian Well hello cute Canadian girl working for Mission Australia! I am sorry we don't have Kraft Meals here or whatever they were called exactly and that our macaroni and cheese isn't really the same thing. Honestly I am. I am also sorry that I didn't become a Mission Australin donor. Like I said I wish I could have just to make you happy but I just can't commit to it. I wonder if you thought that was just random flirting when I said that or if you knew I was serious and would have donated if I was sure I had the room in my budget. You are cute and I am sorry you were talking to that guy at the parking ticket machine when I walked back past after my lunch. I am also sorry you are only here today, I hope you have a good time the next place you go to. I am glad I at least mentioned you were cute :) ... Just in case anyone is wondering I don't think her skin was like buttermilk. It was nice but that is not the same thing. You thought I was 25 but I was only 29 ... only 29. That was a like a remake of the one line I know of the song I think was called "only 19" about a guy going to war. I think. Try to sing it in your mind when you read it, that is what I was doing when I wrote it. Ooooonly 29 ... Ooh a really cute girl was definitely looking at me this morning. Maybe it was because I was staring at her delighted to see she looked as good from the front as when I was walking behind her. Not always the case. Don't know if I like those low cut pants, you made them work well no doubt but I just reckon it pants up to about the top of your hips would look perfect. Me being a fashion designer and all I know about these things. I would have smiled at you but my mouth was still occupied by a blueberry muffin (tasting predominantly of banana for some reason) and it wasn't wanting to leave my teeth any time soon. Also what is going on with these women? My mind can't really accommodate the concept of them looking at my for pleasure or genuinely wanting to know me based on my appearance but I don't know what else could be going on. Very annoying when you can't find a reason to assume something negative. Not that that will stop me. Saw two cute little red heads yesterday on the train. Looking at them made me happy for they were cute and had red hair. So I was happy. They appeared to be interested in me, which is always flattering as well as embarrassing. Again a win for Team Stuberosum. For a moment. The associations with cute little red head are too strong. Not too happy, too sad, too complicated, too emotional, too angry. Too Strong. They may be any or all of the above at any given time, even after a period of time which is now naturally measured in years rather than months, but it is not the actual emotions involved it is their strength that causes the problems. I spent some time thinking of metaphors for this and came up with a few. Seeing the two cute little red heads was like a big full glass of milk. It appeared refreshing, cool, pleasant to taste. Thoughts of my ex were like a rock I see to always hold in my hand. I know it intimately, it is moulded to my palms and fingers thru aeons of gentle holding, touching, squeezing. It had absorbed my scent, my sweat, it had a layer of salt as a residue from evaporation sweat. Even when it wasn't there it was like it was. So to the gentle happy musings of the glass of milk I introduce the rock, or does it just introduce itself? No matter. It splashes into the glass, sending a wave of milk to the table, clinking against the glass, setting it ringing. I can't enjoy this milk anymore. It is filled with a rock, should I try to drink the rock slides up and jars my teeth. Anyway, the rock was all slimy and saltly with old and new sweat. "Would you like your milk chilled and with mix of sweat of varying ages, Sir?" I'd say not. Alternately, the rock could introduce itself in a more agressive manner leaving a broken glass and a spray of milk and shards of glass across the table. This is how she still touches my thoughts. How can I say it is wrong, it is how it is, what I know, all that is left. This is how I make her touch my life. I also had one with the traditional bull in the china shop, except for some reason it was an elephant. I daresay you can get the general idea of what would happen there. If not feel free to ask, I'll be around. I have to call a client now. 1:49 p.m. - Thursday, Sept. 22, 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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