I have called out someons else's name, inadvertently, at a crucial moment. I meant to call Shep, to summon back my sheepdog, and instead I called Flossie, and I was trampled underfoot by two hundred sheep.
Oh, agreed. Absolutely agreed. Get the inspiration from life, and then hide away in the imagination, frequently or occasionally raising one's head above the waterline to take another gulp of air ...
If you were unsure whether to emerge or not, would that be imagination hibernation consternation?
And if you were considering thowing yourself out of a window because you couldn't decide, would that be imagination hibernation consternation defenestration?
{removes triangle from mountain stream, slips a white cord through the open bit and hangs from pine tree, goes back to sit next to enormous pile of rocks}
Does she know?
Posted by: Angelalala | May 07, 2007 at 09:10 AM
The imagination is a wonderful thing. It always had the perfect line to hand and never calls you by someone else's name at a crucial moment.
Posted by: Jack | May 07, 2007 at 09:13 AM
The imagination is a wonderful thing. It always had the perfect line to hand and never calls you by someone else's name at a crucial moment.
Posted by: Jack | May 07, 2007 at 09:13 AM
oh I wrote this ages ago - she eventually ran off with a silverback.
sigh.
Posted by: andre | May 07, 2007 at 09:14 AM
Why am I thinking of flesh-spackle at the moment?
Posted by: andophiroxia | May 07, 2007 at 09:14 AM
Jack: I have never called anyone the wrong name at a 'crucial moment' for I am always too busy reciting my 7 times table.
Have you called out the wrong name at a 'crucial moment'?
Posted by: andre | May 07, 2007 at 09:17 AM
hahahah...I'm afraid I don't remember names at all, old, new, or crucial.
"Hello Mary!"
"Helloo...you..?"
Flirting is good - that is all I need. If I get more from someone I love, I long for it when they are away. That's a bummer.
Posted by: Monotone Mary | May 07, 2007 at 09:24 AM
I have called out someons else's name, inadvertently, at a crucial moment. I meant to call Shep, to summon back my sheepdog, and instead I called Flossie, and I was trampled underfoot by two hundred sheep.
It happens, you know.
Posted by: An Unreliable Witness | May 07, 2007 at 10:10 AM
...imaginations can be the bestest things.
(sometimes).
could you tell her of what your mind imagines?
Posted by: Miles Away | May 07, 2007 at 10:29 AM
Rude things!
{but nothing to do with sheep or sheepdogs - as that is just wrong}
Posted by: andre | May 07, 2007 at 10:36 AM
If I were to ever love someone, it would be someone like you.
Posted by: Linda | May 07, 2007 at 10:38 AM
if you tell her of the rude things, you never know...
(good luck!)
Posted by: Miles Away | May 07, 2007 at 10:53 AM
Does she ever tells you- hey you look good on that shirt sexy!?
Posted by: Latina | May 07, 2007 at 11:42 AM
Imagination is my only true friend.
Posted by: Ariel | May 07, 2007 at 03:19 PM
Imagination is the key to love.
Filling in the gaps is the best part.
I reckon, anyway.
Posted by: isabelle | May 07, 2007 at 03:27 PM
Imagination, I am more and more convinced, is probably the best place to spend life, if not eternity.
Posted by: An Unreliable Witness | May 07, 2007 at 03:44 PM
oh no no, imagination needs life to inspire it.
Posted by: andre | May 07, 2007 at 03:53 PM
Oh, agreed. Absolutely agreed. Get the inspiration from life, and then hide away in the imagination, frequently or occasionally raising one's head above the waterline to take another gulp of air ...
Posted by: An Unreliable Witness | May 07, 2007 at 04:03 PM
but not too much life - as that would get a bit tiresome.
Posted by: andre | May 07, 2007 at 05:39 PM
sort of like an imagination hibernation?
a lot of the time the treehouse of the head is safer than being on the ground getting life's conkers thrown at you...
Posted by: Miles Away | May 07, 2007 at 06:50 PM
that is the most charming thing ever. and sweet. any woman would be lucky to have your imagination filling up the gaps.
Posted by: jeorg | May 07, 2007 at 07:09 PM
Imagination is the highest kite one can fly. I think Lauren Bacall said that (do correct me if I'm wrong).
Posted by: cosmosgirl | May 08, 2007 at 12:11 AM
Imagination hibernation. Nice.
If you were unsure whether to emerge or not, would that be imagination hibernation consternation?
And if you were considering thowing yourself out of a window because you couldn't decide, would that be imagination hibernation consternation defenestration?
And if... oh never mind
Posted by: flunt | May 08, 2007 at 02:36 AM
we are all delusional fools non?
Posted by: Peach | May 08, 2007 at 04:27 AM
Andre, I really love your way with words!
Posted by: Anji | May 08, 2007 at 04:38 AM
{Lying on back, hooves in the air in the shade of an enormous rock}
"She hasn't got a ticket to Ryde, but she don't care"
Posted by: Mountain Goat | May 08, 2007 at 04:54 AM
wow andre
you were amazing on Saturday
{but I am leaving you for an enormous rock}
xx
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 04:56 AM
Ha!
Yes, I was.
Shut it!
Morning Mountain Goat.
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 05:01 AM
My felt tip pens have run out {I am so prolific} I must face the teenage girl that works in the cheap acrylic paint shop once more.
Oh God.
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 05:07 AM
good luck andre
may the force be with you
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 05:19 AM
{sitting beside an enormous pile of rocks}
"if i lay here, if i just lay here..."
Posted by: Mountain Goat | May 08, 2007 at 05:22 AM
mind the gaps
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 05:46 AM
{silently circling the moon}
gosh the moon is so silvery & bright
Posted by: space cadet | May 08, 2007 at 05:50 AM
Space Cadet: Have you been sniffing my felt tip pens again?
Annie: I survived the teenage girl and her fickle lust. She completely ignored me.
Mountain Goat: 'Open your eyes'
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 06:41 AM
in space,
no one
can hear
you
dream
Posted by: space cadet | May 08, 2007 at 07:09 AM
please allow me to introduce myself
i'm a man of speed and haste
Posted by: satan | May 08, 2007 at 07:10 AM
{wearing welding mask, takes large metal triangle, welds a corner out of the triangle,
leaves triangle to cool in a mountain stream...}
Posted by: Mountain Goat | May 08, 2007 at 07:11 AM
wonders which corner was removed.
*Puts new painting about words down. Decides to touch up wall instead*
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 07:15 AM
{removes triangle from mountain stream, slips a white cord through the open bit and hangs from pine tree, goes back to sit next to enormous pile of rocks}
Posted by: Mountain Goat | May 08, 2007 at 07:23 AM
anyway,
back to the original post
you need a manicure
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 07:25 AM
"Decides to touch up wall instead"
you really are quite a pervert
all this fiddling and touching up business
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 07:31 AM
what else is a lonely boy to do?
I do not need a manicure. And anyway it would be wasted on me because I shall bite my nails for the rest of my life.
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 07:38 AM
its better to have a professional do it for you
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 07:44 AM
what? you can employ a professional to bite your nails for you?
Not in Northampton you can't.
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 07:49 AM
You can't? Tch, the provinces.
The back pages of Loot are crammed with ads for nail biting services here in London. Amongst other things.
Posted by: Jack | May 08, 2007 at 07:53 AM
{lights camp fire, goes to draw fresh water from the mountain stream}
Posted by: Mountain Goat | May 08, 2007 at 07:54 AM
indeed, these provincial boys are quite naive
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 07:55 AM
Jack: The only professional services offered here in Northampton Town are Plumbing and Prostitution. Neither of which I require.
Mountain Goat: Don't go too near the fire. It will burn you.
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 07:57 AM
Annie: I am very naive. Fact.
Posted by: andre | May 08, 2007 at 07:58 AM
andre: i know. fact.
Posted by: annie | May 08, 2007 at 07:59 AM