Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me
Say "Nighty night" and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me
Stars fading but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
Well, that really just leads into this post, I guess. I haven't posted anything in a long time (which seems to be what I say every time I post something). I haven't been on the computer at all in a really long time really. to recap what has been happening in my life, I have been having a great time at my job as an In-Store Artist at Central Market, I just took down my work from JR's since it's been up there for two months, and I might not have been working on my computer but I have been writing so I think that I will post a little of that now.
Remember a while ago when I posted those adorable pictures of that boy with curly hair? Well, same story as that, I've just defined what I wanted to say in that story a lot more. Maybe this song doesn't lead into this bit as much as I wanted it to. This doesn't even talk about how Michael hears Artemis in his head and he writes songs about her. That would have been way more appropriate for this post.
Michael
The phone rang
40 minutes before Michael's alarm. He knocked the phone off the nightstand, hit
it under the bed, and finally answered after falling halfway out of bed and
onto the extremely cold, hard wood floor.
“Hello?” he
answered. His voice was rough and his nose sounded stopped up. Michael had been
stressing all day yesterday that he had caught the cold on the plane back from
Spain.
“Michael!
It's Caleb. Meet me at La Rue in 20 minutes.” Caleb’s sharp New Yorker accent
hurt Michael's head this early in the morning.
“No.”
Michael pushed himself back into bed and pulled the covers back up over his
bare shoulders.
“Michael,
this is really important. Danyea’s at nine.”
“I
don't like Danyea’s.”
“Michael.
Frederick’s at noon?”
“Fine.”
“Perfect.
See you there.” Caleb hung up before Michael could say anything else. Michael
tossed his phone to the other side of the bed and buried his face back in his
pillow. It was too late though. Sampson and Apollo, Michael's two guinea pigs,
had heard the phone ring and Michael's voice. They started screaming for their
food at the top of their lungs.
“Shut
up!” Michael yelled as he stopped his head under the pillow but it did little
to muffle their high-pitched cries. “I get to sleep for another half hour! Come
on!” his cries fell on tiny deaf ears as they squealed for his attention.
“Fine.”
Michael threw back the comforter and stomped over to their cage. Both of them
looked up at him and started cooing. Michael rested his head against the door
frame in resignation. He couldn't stay mad at them when they were so happy to
see him.
Michael
popped the cage open, scooped Sampson out of the corner and Apollo off the roof
of their tiny house. He carried them into the kitchen with him and dropped them
on the counter. He filled a small bowl from a Tupperware container by the sink
with all natural guinea pig pet pallets.
He
turned on the coffee pot and grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl. They all
ate together, Michael passing Apollo and Samson little pieces of his orange.
Apollo purred as Michael scratched his head and Samsung nestled beside his arm
resting on the counter.
Halfway
through his cup of coffee, Michael picked up some discarded rind and a kitchen
knife. A couple of cuts and he had made the perfect guinea pig helmet. Another
piece of rind became a shield and a toothpick became a sword. A red dishrag
from the linen drawer became a cape for Samson, decked out in his warrior ware.
Michael
snapped a picture of Samson majestically standing on a banana, sword and shield
in hand, his helmet sitting low across his eyes. He tagged the picture “Samson
in victory” and posted to his Twitter account.
Michael
had four likes and three re-tweets before he finished disrobing Samson and
getting both guinea pigs back in their cage with some fresh water and enough
food to last the day. They watched with their beady eyes as he came out of the
shower in his teal blue towel. Michael lounge on the couch and went through his
e-mails on this phone.
He turned on
his stereo and danced to his room to get dressed. The piggies started purring
again when one of Michael songs came on. Three outfits later he came back out,
poured a cup of coffee in his eco-mug, slipped on his gray pea coat and fuchsia
scarf with the gold and aquamarine pheasant stitched at the end and headed out
the door.
I read the first page to my friend and she said that I can't do this story like most of mine and not finish it. We have discovered over the years, it is really the journey that I love and not the finished product. When I have a deadline or a due date though, that becomes my goal and I can finish stuff. Ideally, I would have an editor who breathes down my neck to get my stories out on time because otherwise I just piddle around and doodle like this one here below.
So there we have another installment in what I have decided to call "Plastic Bags." I know that is kind of a weird title but it really works for me.
Alright, night.
KB
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