05.18.04
A closing grey day, a day that ended by seeing and saying goodbye to a newly met friend for the last time. How sad is it to have something good come to an end? Ideally we would want to work, experience, entertain, and live our entire life with great people that we get along with. We want it all, but all roads do not cross one point and you can only hope that the points you do pass through will contain interesting people who can understand you, appreciate you, and accept you. Being a consultant on the road, you create a temporary family while being away from home. You build a replaced local family unit with people you can trust, people that you can have fun with, people that you can learn from, and most importantly, people that you can relate to. I lost sight of one of the greatest things in my life that I once loved so dearly, music. My newly departed friend brought that back into my life and introduced me to far more diverse music than I would ever try to dare branch out to. I must thank him for bringing back that spark which gave me so much thrill and peace once in my life. It was something that would always put a smile on my face, something that gave me an unconditional high. As a form of entertainment, I love listening to music more than anything, but with the long working habits and as years go by, I have unconsciously devoid my ears of anything pretty and placed a slow death to my ability of choosing good music and blanded all my taste buds of anything swank and interesting. I embarrassedly funneled myself into the popular pop music that was endlessly played on the radio, and unfortunately, forgotten to channeled my ears elsewhere, especially when there are far more goodness out there with far more variety than my current ignorance could ever have known. Basically I listened to what was there and sought for nothing else but what was placed in front of me by the media over the frequency waves. He introduced me to great things and expanded the music world and knowledge for me. I totally got back into music and now can't go one day without listening to something, even if it isn't swank, it's music that my heart swells to with each beat and my soul sways with the rhythm. I bought myself a five hundred dollar i-Pod just so I can have continuous goodness in my ears at any instant desire. The smile is there and I completely drown myself in my tunes, his tunes, but my tunes now, and to that, I tip my hat to him and hope we'll jam to music one day, once again.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Sunday, January 25, 2004
More People You See
01.25.04
The lady started with a two pound bag of chex mix snack and now is on oreo cookies. She’s eating them like a possessed child that has never tasted a sugar-lard mixture. She’s doing the classic lick the lard and eat the cookie last process. She could be married but the ring could be a cheap imitation - don’t fuck with me - ring. Either way, the ring was poorly sought out for, tasteless, styleless, and in no way elegant nor pretty. She begins to put all her food items up and is now just checking out what she has. She has tons of magazines in a reusable, cloth handled bag, the kind grocery shoppers normally put their groceries in to save on plastic and paper. She started with a Ben and Jen breakup magazine and that’s about where I lost my interest. From this angle I can only tell that she isn’t shabby at all compared to her rustic eating habits and is rather neat in nature. She’s constantly eating something and just now pulled out her laptop. Big, as usual, the American way with everything here, and it includes a big frontal head shot of a golden retriever, tongue all hanging loose and everything as the background. No kids I’m guessing, a woman in her late thirties or early forties. It’s hard to say with American white women, especially those with brownish blonde hair. What do I know about non-Asians. Well I can't tell Asians either. People like her motivate me to go on diets for weeks or just makes me want to be anorexic, but that notion only last about, at tops, ten minutes or until my stomach starts to growl.
The lady started with a two pound bag of chex mix snack and now is on oreo cookies. She’s eating them like a possessed child that has never tasted a sugar-lard mixture. She’s doing the classic lick the lard and eat the cookie last process. She could be married but the ring could be a cheap imitation - don’t fuck with me - ring. Either way, the ring was poorly sought out for, tasteless, styleless, and in no way elegant nor pretty. She begins to put all her food items up and is now just checking out what she has. She has tons of magazines in a reusable, cloth handled bag, the kind grocery shoppers normally put their groceries in to save on plastic and paper. She started with a Ben and Jen breakup magazine and that’s about where I lost my interest. From this angle I can only tell that she isn’t shabby at all compared to her rustic eating habits and is rather neat in nature. She’s constantly eating something and just now pulled out her laptop. Big, as usual, the American way with everything here, and it includes a big frontal head shot of a golden retriever, tongue all hanging loose and everything as the background. No kids I’m guessing, a woman in her late thirties or early forties. It’s hard to say with American white women, especially those with brownish blonde hair. What do I know about non-Asians. Well I can't tell Asians either. People like her motivate me to go on diets for weeks or just makes me want to be anorexic, but that notion only last about, at tops, ten minutes or until my stomach starts to growl.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
People You See
01.22.04
I stepped onto the plane and there she was, a goth looking flight attendant that greeted me with a smile. Everything was dark about her, dark mini-shirt, black hose with grayish to black top, even a smoky dark gemstone ring while the other hand had various small silvery rings covering almost every finger but her thumb. I’m surprise she didn’t have a silver chain coming out of her pocket and a tongue stud. What she did have was jet-black chin length, straight hair with a small but noticeable slight bend one inch from the ends, probably from a ponytail hold. Even though she was somewhat petite and had well fitted clothes suited for her, her shoes had their own personality, which must have also contained all her total weight. She wore black heel boots, which pounded the floor making hollow thud sounds everywhere she went. No one could sleep and everyone knew her exact location at all times.
She was the lead flight attendant and spoke gracefully on the intercom without any southern, northern, western, or funny accents. She always had a determined look on her face, an agenda or a point, something that stated she was going to keep everything in order and in lined. She was the anal type, nice outside but a total bitch if you fuck up your part of the deal; the type that wants everything done her way with absolutely no mistakes. If there was a mistake, she would send off a high pitch scream, unearth the dead, and grab a blunt object and beat your head to a bloody mush. She walked around a hundred times making sure everything was in order, that everyone was completely bloated, and also that no one could get any sleep with her pounding boots. Despite her militant personna, she had pretty features, perfectly shaped nose, delicate curved lips, angular chin, dark penetrating eyes, slender thin arms, and feminine slim body.
I always wonder where these people live, what kind of lives they live outside their occupation cell, and how they look like in their own preferred clothes. There is a whole story behind each of them, and it can go as wide and wild as anything, yet I can only make up stories to my own preference. Not knowing is probably the enchanting part, but knowing can be just as delicious.
I stepped onto the plane and there she was, a goth looking flight attendant that greeted me with a smile. Everything was dark about her, dark mini-shirt, black hose with grayish to black top, even a smoky dark gemstone ring while the other hand had various small silvery rings covering almost every finger but her thumb. I’m surprise she didn’t have a silver chain coming out of her pocket and a tongue stud. What she did have was jet-black chin length, straight hair with a small but noticeable slight bend one inch from the ends, probably from a ponytail hold. Even though she was somewhat petite and had well fitted clothes suited for her, her shoes had their own personality, which must have also contained all her total weight. She wore black heel boots, which pounded the floor making hollow thud sounds everywhere she went. No one could sleep and everyone knew her exact location at all times.
She was the lead flight attendant and spoke gracefully on the intercom without any southern, northern, western, or funny accents. She always had a determined look on her face, an agenda or a point, something that stated she was going to keep everything in order and in lined. She was the anal type, nice outside but a total bitch if you fuck up your part of the deal; the type that wants everything done her way with absolutely no mistakes. If there was a mistake, she would send off a high pitch scream, unearth the dead, and grab a blunt object and beat your head to a bloody mush. She walked around a hundred times making sure everything was in order, that everyone was completely bloated, and also that no one could get any sleep with her pounding boots. Despite her militant personna, she had pretty features, perfectly shaped nose, delicate curved lips, angular chin, dark penetrating eyes, slender thin arms, and feminine slim body.
I always wonder where these people live, what kind of lives they live outside their occupation cell, and how they look like in their own preferred clothes. There is a whole story behind each of them, and it can go as wide and wild as anything, yet I can only make up stories to my own preference. Not knowing is probably the enchanting part, but knowing can be just as delicious.
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