birdmad flashes of memory

bouncing around in my head like television signal into space

the near past,
the distant past

mostly the same

a few variables where they apply
birdmad hair dye all around, a pretty natural shade for you and the bright blood red for me

you in grey, red and black, red all-stars

me in blue jeans, black shirt with blue flames, blue t-shirt


the bookstore

the record store
the_cramps and all_bets_off

hopping around the high stretch of cliffs

driving around in search of a gas station

a quick dinner

listening to ABO and pondering what to do next

awkward moments,

calling it a day and parting company before dark had even fallen...

a long walk up the street and around the corner and back again, the book, the CD and alot of bad TV

the next day lost to avoidance - each of us afraid that the other was angry
blown cherry Perhaps not as famous as Arabesque No. 2, or as popular as Claire De Lune, and maybe a tad easier to play by a couple of grades, but no less beautiful.
I somehow doubt Debussy had AMEB grades in mind when he was designing his musical roses at any rate.

Seeing this blathe I was reminded, I went and rifled through the sheets until I found it. My fingers touched the piano and gently eased back into the introduction, like a comfortable old chair that hadn't been sat in for a while.
The time showed and I stumbled here and there, but not so much as other old friendships I have attempted to rekindle of late.
The haunting b-section filling my mind with nothing but notes and music. Then the playful and tinkling recapitulation danced around my head, the one that I fondly recall having so much trouble learning to play, so many years ago.

Why did I leave it alone for so long?

It is a part of me that I can't ignore, that I shouldn't let myself forget is there, especially now that it is more alive than ever.

Let Reverie be my anthem for the now.
reverie you're the only part of me that will ever be beautiful. 040408
silentbob saves_the_day 040409
x i wonder how i missed this 040410
what's it to you?
who go