back_for_a_limited_time_only AnnaBegan You tied me up last week and we played Radiohead all night and I knew I liked them before but it just seemed like this was the time to listen to them. I'd had about two bottles of wine. One was a dry white, not so good and the other was that fruity blackberry merlot that is delicious. Who knew that $2.99 could get you such an exquisite sample of alcohol? Honestly though, the wine had little effect. I'm not sure how I did it now, while it's four below, but I managed to last the two or so hours without freezing. Even with the ice. There was this way you spoke to me, a mixture of assertive sexiness and teasing, the way you used to. Or, the way it would have sounded could I have heard you instead of reading you. You always scold me when I say "It sounded like you..." and it's impossible to know what you sound like, or you don't sound like anything, because you aren't talking. If you used that tone of voice, the tone that wove around the tickle and the pinch and the something else I couldn't identify because of the blindfolding, that tone would leave me in a state of never thinking of a single alternative. It wiped away the doubt, the thoughts that eight am and the frigid hands and toes and the tight, dry skin bring on. When Radiohead ended, there were noises, people talking, outside the window. You swore a few days later that they were there and listening because of us. Everything here turns into such an adventure. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn't have even written this. 040129 what's it to you? who go blather from