I should tie up loose ends before a specific woman becomes *my* elephant. A mildly zaftig pilot and bluegrass musician with aspirations to be a naturopathic doctor, we’re utterly incompatible. But the electricity—the nights spent in her ancient gold MDX with the seats reclined remembering verbatim every 90s SNL skit, Steely Dan song, and slowly inching towards a resolve of the deep sexual tension. A dinner by candlelight—nominally an apology for something dumb I did but in reality a way to go on a date while we both weee in relationships—that was the most heavily tense and euphoric night Ive yet experienced. But someone—a 46 FFF green haired theatre major or pinup-esque biologist on my end (speaking of ones I shouldn’t let go, her) and on hers a psych major so similar looking to me that, during freshman year at our small school we grew accustomed to being mistaken for each other—kept getting in the way. I owe her a ride in my old Miata, but part of me wonders if I ever should.
Bookworm memories? That's a good term. Louise Erdrich may stir memories in quite a few people. I read her in a women's studies class at the U of MN, way back in the '90s. It was a good time and place to meet and greet interesting women, as the male/female ratio was very favorable. The books were good too.
Thanks to you (Jack) and Townes, I have a new mantra:
It don't pay to think too much
On things you leave behind
I should tie up loose ends before a specific woman becomes *my* elephant. A mildly zaftig pilot and bluegrass musician with aspirations to be a naturopathic doctor, we’re utterly incompatible. But the electricity—the nights spent in her ancient gold MDX with the seats reclined remembering verbatim every 90s SNL skit, Steely Dan song, and slowly inching towards a resolve of the deep sexual tension. A dinner by candlelight—nominally an apology for something dumb I did but in reality a way to go on a date while we both weee in relationships—that was the most heavily tense and euphoric night Ive yet experienced. But someone—a 46 FFF green haired theatre major or pinup-esque biologist on my end (speaking of ones I shouldn’t let go, her) and on hers a psych major so similar looking to me that, during freshman year at our small school we grew accustomed to being mistaken for each other—kept getting in the way. I owe her a ride in my old Miata, but part of me wonders if I ever should.
Bookworm memories? That's a good term. Louise Erdrich may stir memories in quite a few people. I read her in a women's studies class at the U of MN, way back in the '90s. It was a good time and place to meet and greet interesting women, as the male/female ratio was very favorable. The books were good too.