Canteloupe is either luscious or disappointing. There is no in-between.
Have finally listened to The Rubberband Man one time too many.
I can't enjoy Twitter. I might get 'followers' and then I'd feel responsible for them.
I have lost a friend to Second Life. Scuppernongs are in season.
The people I like best in Savannah are all on their way to someplace else.
Hand me down my walkin' cane, hand me down my hat!
Worried about C. She eats Percocets like I eat scuppernongs.
Read "The Devil's Advocates: Greatest Closing Arguments in Criminal Law."
Hurry now and don't be late 'cause we ain't got time to chat
Without liberal activist judges, we are savages in loin cloths.
N died six years ago this month. When I stopped phoning her mother, I forfeited my right to rely on friends.
Once I went to hear them play at a club outside of town...
My mom cries a lot. At her age, friendships end badly and for all time.
...I was so surprised I was hypnotized by the sound this cat's puttin' down.
I miss Miami. I miss ripe mangoes. I miss you.
Listening to The Rubberband Man one last time. It makes me smile.
~ ~ ~
THE RUBBERBAND MAN LYRICS BY LINDA CREED AND THOM BELL


Salon.com
Comments
It is like the difference between glimpsing some perfect Other on the J train, at midnight, in whose movement and expression we must melt, sort of crush on, then never see again -- and being lovers, the rolling into each other on the beach, both of us warm, oiled and sandy, each with our own book; and we both see, together, a girl nearby, who brings her mother some cradled sand; and we say nothing but smile at the sweetness of it and lean into each other and press our lips together, to confirm what we both already know: each other's hearts.
Twitter kinda sucks.
"It is like the difference between glimpsing some perfect Other on the J train, at midnight, in whose movement and expression we must melt, sort of crush on, then never see again -- and being lovers, the rolling into each other on the beach, both of us warm, oiled and sandy, each with our own book; and we both see, together, a girl nearby, who brings her mother some cradled sand; and we say nothing but smile at the sweetness of it and lean into each other and press our lips together, to confirm what we both already know: each other's hearts."
This deserves a post all its own. Wow.
Miami will come to Savannah soon.