Tuesday, February 17, 2004
It's not easy being green. Kermit the Frog
I am trying to think about a few things to say to you and the only words that come to mind are... tell me did you make to the milky way? did you sail across the light of day? Every time I play that song my mind races to my other life. The one with you. the one where I'm smacking myself screamin' "skiters skiters everywhere" and you would be sitting under a tree in the middle of the night wearing a cowboy hat and nothing else smiling playfully. or that time in the pouring rain when we embraced passionately between two parked cars in front of a mall hoping no one would catch us. I think of you showing up on my doorstep completely drenched and me spending the evening making you soup and drying your hair. And when you picked me up at work and we stopped the elevator only to come out of it visibly flush.
but none of this.... alas.... ever happened
The Pirate will live in all our hearts
I mourn today the early departure of an incredible athlete who couldn't deal with the cards he drew. Marco Pantani was nicknamed the pirate for teh way he would attack during a race without fear overtaking his opponents. A bad injury and suspicion of enhancing drug abuse made him spiral into a life of self loathing and abuse. He died alone in a Hotel room in Italy without anybody hearing his cry for help. He was 33 years old
I am trying to think about a few things to say to you and the only words that come to mind are... tell me did you make to the milky way? did you sail across the light of day? Every time I play that song my mind races to my other life. The one with you. the one where I'm smacking myself screamin' "skiters skiters everywhere" and you would be sitting under a tree in the middle of the night wearing a cowboy hat and nothing else smiling playfully. or that time in the pouring rain when we embraced passionately between two parked cars in front of a mall hoping no one would catch us. I think of you showing up on my doorstep completely drenched and me spending the evening making you soup and drying your hair. And when you picked me up at work and we stopped the elevator only to come out of it visibly flush.
but none of this.... alas.... ever happened
The Pirate will live in all our hearts
I mourn today the early departure of an incredible athlete who couldn't deal with the cards he drew. Marco Pantani was nicknamed the pirate for teh way he would attack during a race without fear overtaking his opponents. A bad injury and suspicion of enhancing drug abuse made him spiral into a life of self loathing and abuse. He died alone in a Hotel room in Italy without anybody hearing his cry for help. He was 33 years old
