The Cloud of Seagulls
Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010Has gone. I was sitting out in the balcony, when a storm of flying rats began ha-rass-ing each other in the airspace above my head. Unforgivable.
So I’m in Roma, still. The land of muscular jaws, Armani-Exchange stubble, and proud tans. Of surprisingly short men, who are all talk…but really, this city isn’t all about the male specimen. I’m not obsessing. Or complaining…I might be complaining, I miss Seattle boys. They might not smell as nice, but I’ve never complained about that…
TWO WEEKS ’til I come back! I know I shouldn’t already be reminiscing about Seattle, or Roma, and I should just rejoice in the moment (arms of joy! flail those arms of joy!) but what’s life without the spice of angst? It’s nothing; no, it’s an episode of Friends. It’s fettuccine from Maggiano’s– bland butter in a swamp of noodles.Yeeeck.
So here’s to the cusp of spring; of the beautiful happy, the gorgeous sad, the silent contentedness of cool evenings. I can’t wait to see you, Sir Tomorrow. Because you’ll probably have a nice coni of gelato waiting for me…
If I don’t puke from my own cheesiness.
Gracious
