Today

Today I went on search for a record player. I have seen vinyl tossed by the way-side, and know there is someone who understands. Somewhere in the lyrics of yesterday, or the beat of once more, I'll feel the same. So I'll rescue myself and time not yet forgotten and in a Corrine Bailey Fashion aim to put some records on.

Well,....I guess its just like writing letters with addresses. It just feels so much better than writing letters to no one.

Speaking of which, I wrote this wonderful letter to someone describing my "quaint little town." --Admittedly, that sounds completely arrogant, both of my town, and writing ability, but I thought it was damn good. One of those descriptions I would have liked to have shared with more than one person, but a description-I suppose--that was drawn out by that sole person.

I mean isn't that special. When one person gets you to convey just what you want, when you want.  Maybe it isn't just one person that is able to do that, but maybe you can only say these "special things" to that special person.

I'll admit, that person has changed in my life. Sometimes it is my Marine who is my best friend of ten years. Sometimes its my "favorite" sister, who despite being ten years younger, allows her essence to fill me up so much, I am recharged and am able to "find me".

(Side note: In my sisters mirror,  *written on the mirror, in blue paint*, are the words:
                                                "Don't talk to Strangers....
                                                They only lead to Danger"
I don't know why it made as much sense as it did, but they're ya go.....)


I missing a lot of those people lately. Some more than they probably care to read.
Someone recently wrote sometimes we miss people for strange reasons....I have to agree. But the reasons aren't so strange are they.  Sometimes those people are  "it." Whether they know it or not, they're "it" to someone, or rather that "Someone" is "it."

--I suppose it's easier with postcards to remind us, but I guess thats what started this entry...

Would the world between us break these ties?
We've worked so hard to realize,
Could a postcard say what I see in your eyes?
Could I ever break away?

Silly, John, its never wanting to break away thats the hard part. But I guess that's in the lyrics I haven't posted, and the postcards I keep sending.

Besitos Universe.