Listen to Cassini’s Ave Marie sung by Inessa Galante.
I apologize for the flowers. Look away from the monitor. I mean it. Turn your head to the side. Do not, I repeat do NOT look at the tulips. They are evil.
Turn off the lights. (Classical music is best appreciated in the dark.) This music can communicate suffering like no other medium. You can feel it. If not, you might be dead. Or dumb.
But I don’t like to judge.
Last night? I did nothing other then:
Try to figure out why “The King” disappeared on me. We spent the 4th of July weekend together. He gave me a tour of his company. Did the security cameras reveal that I am actually an international terrorist? (It happens.)
He installed a motion detector light outside my house. (Thank you King.) It flicks on 30 times a night flooding the darkness with streams of light transforming my tiny abode into a 21st century replica of Auschwitz. (All I need are sirens and a machine gun.)
I returned his call on Wed. (We had plans). He didn't pick up. I'm tired of trying to figure out this Prima Donna. I went out with someone else instead. My date and I went to the place I was meant to go with The King. It was packed with teeny boppers (people under the age of 23.) We both said, simultaneously, "hell no".
We had dinner instead. My date said, "You KNOW I'm the one you really want." Then he said, "Kiss me". Then he said, "You're spending the night with me".
That's where I drew the line. "Nope, not gonna happen" I replied. "You have a big brain Charmaine" he said. "It's too bad you use it on such small things".
"You mean like on YOU?" I said. Then I drove home.