“Well, just because you lived and lost doesn’t mean you should stop loving. If you have a nightmare, do you stop dreaming? Don’t give up on love because of what he did to you.”
Protagonist looked into her eyes and waited to see if the words resonated with her spirit. He saw it echo across each line of her face as her eyes softened and her chest elevated with her sharp, quiet inhale.
You have managed to turn me from a man of substance into a brick-staring, calling-too-damn-much, music-spinning maniac. A quiet maniac.
Men feel it too. Man, we feel it too. We feel it too often; but we rarely say it.
___________
Pro’s true feelings lied comatose beneath layers of masculinity and ego. He watched as she pulled strands of hair from her face - she revealed more of her face, but she never revealed more about her thoughts or feelings. Here two people sat thinking various thoughts about one another only to have said thoughts yelled to deaf ears. He would never hear her thoughts. She did not listen to her feelings, so she didn’t hear them either.
“You see,” he started, “this restaurant has really great food. But don’t you think this glass is a little too womanly?”
She smiled and laughed - he had yet to determine whether that was her genuine laugh or her friendly laugh. She looked at the glass and remarked,
“It is womanly.”
During the silence that followed, his eyes once again began to explore each curvature of her thin body. The wool sweater did very little to hide her wonderful physique. Each layer of thread embraced her body. One thread over another; yet, no matter how many layers she had on, it was not very difficult to see her body and day-dream about it like he had always done.
She noticed his eyes surveying the curves of her body. His large eyes gathered information about her curves like an apprenticed artist looking to criticize his master’s painting. Her smile was far from perfect; however, she could often feel him admiring her like she was another masterpiece tacked on the wall of the Louvre. Lovers had admired her and then hurt her before. She watched his eyes and let them explore; however, she revealed nothing. She would not give him the benefit of learning her true thoughts or feelings.
It takes an artist years to master what vandals ruin much more expediently.
“You know, you got this fantasy in your head about getting out of the life….”
Act I: Eternal Sunshine (the pledge)
1ST MOVEMENT
She say she never fell in love with a superman Christian Muslim Protestant Lutheran I told her that being immortal was the portal to the true nature of growth to Christlike Buddah man That’s why I never spit the traditional garbage of a knife…
A Texan Is drinking in a New York Bar.
He gets a call on his cell phone.
He hangs up, grinning from ear to ear and orders a round of drinks for
everybody in the bar because, he announces, his wife has just produced a
typical Texan baby boy weighing 25 pounds.
Nobody can believe that any new baby can weigh in at 25 pounds, but the Texan just shrugs, “That’s about average back home, folks. Like I said, my boy’s a typical Texan baby boy.”
Congratulations showered him from all around and many exclamations of “WOW!”
were heard.
One woman actually fainted due to sympathy pains.
Two weeks later the Texan returns to the bar.
The bartender says “Say, you’re the father of that typical Texan baby that weighed 25 pounds at birth, aren’t you? Everybody’s been makin’ bets about how big he’d be in two weeks. We were gonna call you … so how much does he weigh now?”
The proud father answers, “Seventeen pounds.”
The bartender is puzzled and concerned. “What happened? He already weighed
25 pounds the day he was born.
The Texan father takes a slow swig from his Lone Star, wipes his lips on his shirt sleeve, leans in to the bartender and proudly says:
“Had him circumcised.”
She said, “You act like you live your life in your head. You treat a lot of people that way too.”
Protagonist listened but did not make eye contact with her. Comments like her comment stayed with him; especially when the comments were accurate.
He held the moleskine between his fingers. He split the notebook’s spine and begin to read some of his earlier writings. The stories were probably quite anemic to most; the writing lacked life. However, to Pro, the writing logged his various ventures and encounters with the world that existed outside of his mind. The stories were likened to the logs collected by Captain Kirk of the Enterprise. Enterprising minds could not appreciate Pro’s thoughts. Therefore, the writing was his way of reconciling the far-reaching space between himself and the outside world.
“I do live in my head, sweetheart.” Pro smiled and closed his notebook.
She smiled and nodded her head, “I know.”
