The Poe album "Haunted" carried me through a long dreary winter in Prague. With headphones from a CD walkman pressed close to my ears, occasionally I would burst out singing the sad sick lyrics and then look apologetically over at my over-accomplished boyfriend, hunched over at his desk learning his fifth language.
"Sorry, Danielicko."
He would grin and stretch out his pale athletic frame and then sing the lyric back to me.
"Ja vim, zlaticku. You're haunted. You're wild."
"And a sweet Spanish doll?"
"You are not Spanish."
About Me
- Star Kicker
- Crunching conundrums, blasting boredom, eliciting criticism, languishing while laughing, blaming poetry (and/or the lack of) for all of my choices, leaving it to the stars or the people better equipped to handle it, cackling at catastrophe and saying sayanora to sourpusses and sore losers
My Blog List
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The Emperors' New Sandwich4 years ago
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Christmas Fashion Tips9 years ago
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