Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
Saturday
Saturday 20th September 1808
Feel like I’m swimming in a sea of stars
Bright constellations always moving
If I could only chart a course to where you are
I wouldn’t be so lost
Feel like I’m drifting on a swirling tide
A solitary kind of island
I won’t be a homeless traveller anymore
Once our paths have crossed
So I stand, face to the wind
Oh dreams, impossibilities, I’ll just drink them in
Till I am full of the taste of you
Feels like I am drowning in a million tears
Tears I have cried because I miss you
Even though I’ve never ever seen your face before
I’ll know you when I do
Feel like I’m swimming in a sea of stars
Bright constellations always moving
If I could only chart a course to where you are
I just wouldn’t be so lost
Dear Diary,
Such a delightful evening at Hoarcambe! Mr Brianeddy is indeed a talent! I caught him briefly afterwards and complimented him upon his diction.
I know I am blessed with nimble fingers which are,themselves, no strangers to the odd organ but I wish I had the kind of talent that bursts forth from others in endless supply. I need to practice upon my instrument whilst others can just improvise with ease.
Ned brought me some tea as I was musing.
"Have you ever longed to play an instrument, Ned?" I asked distractedly.
"Well, I am quite a dab hand on the 'bald-headed giggle stick' these days," he said wistfully.
"Are you indeed?" I was surprised and my interest was peeked. "I should very much like to see you perform."
"Oh, I know you would, but sadly, in company, I believe I should fumble and I just would not get the fingering right," he said.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
"Bald-headed giggle stick? BALD-HEADED GIGGLE STICK????"
Wayne, look deep into the limpid pools of Ned's eyes, smile at him and scream, "WTF?"
Confused,
-h
Dear Wayne,
I do not doubt Ned in the least when he says he is a dab hand on the 'bald-headed giggle stick' I should think him a virtuoso of this well known instrument. You must keep at him to give you a private performance so that he can overcome his shyness. I should like to envisage a duo with both you and he and if I close my eyes very tight I can just imagine it.
Yours in timbre,
B.
My dear distant 'H',
Fret ye not! Just keep an eye on that volcano.
Yours advisedly,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr Moose,
Timbre? I thought you near Toronto!
Yours sans tomtom,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr. Austen,
as your readers may be aware, Ken Brianeddy is a poor wee boy from Belfast - a city with which I am not entirely unfamiliar.
Ack he's stickin out so he is like!
Sir Studly Buckwell bart.
My dear Mr Buckwell,
You are familiar with Mr Brianeddy, how marvellous! Is he not a joy to behold?
Yours enraptured,
Wayne Austen
Post a Comment