Emily Dickenson?
Euro Chook hehe I wrote it
Okay, let's see.
Blonde, green eyes, six feet tall, 220 lean pounds. (Male). Loves include making videos of cats playing with balls of string and posting them to instagram, tiktok and youtube as quickly as possible (I have no cats of my own--so you can imagine the trouble that one has caused me). Hates include trying to take short cuts in video games and hitting invisible "walls".
Interests include writing memoirs on rainy days thoroughly Thoreau style, and by the reflective scintillas of Walden Pond. (Wasn't Henry Fonda in that one?)
Always wanted to be that protagonist guy in those Sunday afternoon bildungsroman Iditarod classics.
Prayers you ask? Oh, always said nightly, at foot of bed, and include subjects such as thankfulness for God Himself, for The Pentagon, and for COPs reruns.
Holds syncretic view to this ancient rocky universe, (and what? A syncretist can pray!) Loves votive candles shaped like llamas, loves playing hopscotch on the street by himself; or with random kids who still remember how (and who always ask me, "What the--?!" Ah. Kids these days). Recently singled, after girlfriend left me and my big flock for a guy with a much smaller flock.
Seeking someone with sense of the humorous (and with sense in either humerus) for dinners by gentle candlelight, who enjoys joining me in reciting lines from Breakfast at Tiffany's, as we stroll along boulevards made velvet in night and rain, beneath an umbrella meant for just two. If you so desire, I just may be your Paul, if you would so care to be my Holly
--oh wait! I thought I was updating my DATING profile. Oh! Now is my face ever cinder red!
Well, most of that is on-point. Except for that which is not. (Also bulls, bullfrogs, bulldogs, bulldozers will do, for votive things. Hm. Maybe not bulldozers--and what does 'votive' mean?)
I spent all day (week) quickly (slowly) moving house to somewhere (to a smaller apartment) with a rocking view (of neighbors walls) in a great location (a cemetery is a mile off). It is very peaceful here (No wonder--they're dead). Blue skies-- I see the sun (I see the dead, I swear they want to talk to me, but don't quite know how. Hum, and now we have happy tunes. Hum, and sweet now are thine happy thoughts). And all this moving house (how time shrinks while space dilates and all the boxes now look foreign: "kitchenware"? What on Earth?) makes Mitchell one tired and wired lad. And thirsty. And likes Southern food. And can recite alphabet backwards in under 20 seconds (how bored is one to even try?)
I like you peoples, (to phrase long forgotten Borat). I would like to talk more like you. About this chickens. I like chickens. They're nice!
I know how hard it is to keep them chickens going safe and happy. I got my first as part of a rescue mission. Before that , I never had an opportunity to discover just how intelligent, how intuitive, how sweet, chickens are.
Here I hope to give and receive (when my turn comes). And I hope always to give more than I receive. Thank you for receiving me. Good vibes to all
How did I miss this?! Thank you, this was delightful. Alas, it will never work out. I'm old enough to be your grandmother (probably) and happily married, to boot. Ah well. We'll always have Paris. Chickens! I mean we'll always have chickens! Anyway, my hopscotching days are long past. Thanks for joining, your humor will find itself right at home here.
Aw haha Im glad you enjoyed it! You broke my heart. But at least, yes, Paris with its forever memory. *sigh* oh um! Me too, chickens, Paris, chickens, Paris, tomato, tomahtoe!
It will take time, BigBlueHen, O adieu Dear Heart, adieu! A man does not heal in a day, after love has flown the coop.
Perfect!
