blue eyed
I mentioned rednecks, racists, and "pride"... and added that I've never lived somewhere that didn't have all three.
Charleston has a such a pure vibe to it. There is an honesty, as if the city wears her blemishes proudly, because they keep her humble. The secrets kept in the South aren't secrets of any sort you'd suspect. We don't mask anything worthy of reproach.
Instead the secrets lie deep under the cover of palmetto bushes and Spanish moss. Dappled sunlight reveals glimpses of voo doo and Spirits from the past. There's a soul to the South, which is restless..
...and I am restless without it.
It's not just sweet-tea and the Atlanta Braves that I long for. It's 200-plus years of biological memory.
Is it just me or has My Space totally boomed lately? I have been discovered by so many lost souls. Take my friend Nitz, for instance; after the infamous Summer of 2000 he married... and now has found me from his home in Boise.
Amrin is apparently alive in Washington State.
Tylere brushed the pizza boxes from his keyboard and made a profile. Left me a comment with his signature line that "smoking is suicide for the passive-aggressive."
My friend Chas who's been So Cal since graduation has found me, and he's modeling for Hot Topic. Good thing he got that degree in theological studies.
Paige, who I knew briefly in highschool but admired.
Tammy, my freshmen dorm neighbor and a singer-songwriter I'd nearly forgotten about, but never could completely.
This kid Ike I hung out with when we were in highschool.
The girl with the accordian who traveled to Cambridge with me.
And my mom.
All on My Space.
My fiance should be there, too. I suppose I make up for it by posting photographs of him on my profile.
I bought myself new underwear yesterday. ::sigh:: Considering I have been reluctant to clean or do laundry since having been stranded here by my Mike & now my roommate, I guess this is good. I can put of clean-clothes for five more days.
In closing, I hate Joss Stone and Jack Johnson is a derivative.
