It's harder for a girl when she whispers your name
when you walk right past her out into the rain
but it's stormin outside and the rain wont fall
cus the tears are almost glad under it all
well it may sound sound crazy cause i miss you so
but I'm almost glad to see you go
though i may seem oh so sad, well it makes me almost glad
to see your back turn, walk out my door,
hear your footsteps crossin the floor.
Well I'm tryin not to say this but it makes me laugh
when i see you with your friends and they're havin a blast
and the rain that wouldn't fall is stormin in your eyes,
you see me laughin here, you look so surprised, I'm singing,
La la la, la la la la laa,
La la la, la la la la laa,
la la la, la la la la laa,
la la la, la la laa
But if I can still laugh with the sun in my hair
while I watch you stand there with a confused stare
then maybe i'm not just almost glad...maybe i'm just plain old glad
I'm singin La La's, repeated twice
Love yaaa! Enjoi buddy!!!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Chapter 1 of Renity Alavasta
1. Epiphany
Renity sighed deeply as she sank into the shadows, deep under the protection of the massive willow tree. The ground was soft with fallen leaves, the air warm and breezy. She could almost taste the honeysuckle vine that crawled up and around the remains of the stone wall beside her.
The wall was there to keep the deer out of the garden Renity had planted with her father, Markus. By now however, the garden was so overflowed with delicate flowers and huge, blossoming trees that the attempt was pointless; the trees had long ago crushed the wall to ruins.
Renity sat there for a while, listening to the wispy music the wind made as it danced through the trees.
After a moment, Renity pulled out a book from her bookbag; a paperback copy of, “A Wrinkle in Time”.
As she opened it, the wind rustled the printed pages. The smell of ink on paper wafted towards her, bringing back old memories.
Her father always said that books preserved memories between their pages just as they might a pressed flower, and that when you opened one for the first time in a while, it was as if you had stepped back into the time and place in which you last read them. You could remember everything you saw, felt, heard, tasted, and smelled. “Books are the closest thing we have to a time machine” Renity always heard her father say, eyes closed, book in hand, remembering something special even as he spoke.
Renity placed her fingers on the book, so as to stop the wind from rustling its worn pages. The book had belonged to Markus when he was her age, and the pages had long since yellowed with age. The corners were neat and crisp, however, due to Markus’s strong dislike of dog-earing pages. “Dogs don’t read books,” he always told her, and she remembered giggling as their dog, Deogie, hopped onto his lap and stuck his nose into the book they were reading, as if to prove him wrong.
Renity was about to flip back to the front of the book to begin reading when she noticed a footnote scrawled onto the side of the page in red ink.
& The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose& It was written in beautiful slanted writing that looked familiar, but that Renity did not recognize. She smiled, realizing it must have been her father’s favorite saying at the time, before he swapped this elegant script for his more modern, hasty lettering.
Markus’s love for nature showed in everything he did. His poetry was strung up around the house, on kitchen cabinets, on mirrors, even inside the fridge. It was often written about nature, and this line sounded quite like something he would type up and then tack to the milk carton,
Closing the book, Renity rose from her hideaway grudgingly and picked up her book bag. Her breath sparkled like cobwebs in the chill autumn air, and the silence was soft and broken only by nature’s soothing songs.
Renity nearly collided with Liam as she turned a sharp corner in the maze-like bushes that lead to her back door. “
“Oh, Liam, hi!” she said, startled.
“You know, you really shouldn’t read while you walk. You might run into something,” Liam said with a smile, picking up the book she had dropped.
Renity sighed deeply as she sank into the shadows, deep under the protection of the massive willow tree. The ground was soft with fallen leaves, the air warm and breezy. She could almost taste the honeysuckle vine that crawled up and around the remains of the stone wall beside her.
The wall was there to keep the deer out of the garden Renity had planted with her father, Markus. By now however, the garden was so overflowed with delicate flowers and huge, blossoming trees that the attempt was pointless; the trees had long ago crushed the wall to ruins.
Renity sat there for a while, listening to the wispy music the wind made as it danced through the trees.
After a moment, Renity pulled out a book from her bookbag; a paperback copy of, “A Wrinkle in Time”.
As she opened it, the wind rustled the printed pages. The smell of ink on paper wafted towards her, bringing back old memories.
Her father always said that books preserved memories between their pages just as they might a pressed flower, and that when you opened one for the first time in a while, it was as if you had stepped back into the time and place in which you last read them. You could remember everything you saw, felt, heard, tasted, and smelled. “Books are the closest thing we have to a time machine” Renity always heard her father say, eyes closed, book in hand, remembering something special even as he spoke.
Renity placed her fingers on the book, so as to stop the wind from rustling its worn pages. The book had belonged to Markus when he was her age, and the pages had long since yellowed with age. The corners were neat and crisp, however, due to Markus’s strong dislike of dog-earing pages. “Dogs don’t read books,” he always told her, and she remembered giggling as their dog, Deogie, hopped onto his lap and stuck his nose into the book they were reading, as if to prove him wrong.
Renity was about to flip back to the front of the book to begin reading when she noticed a footnote scrawled onto the side of the page in red ink.
& The fragrance always stays in the hand that gives the rose& It was written in beautiful slanted writing that looked familiar, but that Renity did not recognize. She smiled, realizing it must have been her father’s favorite saying at the time, before he swapped this elegant script for his more modern, hasty lettering.
Markus’s love for nature showed in everything he did. His poetry was strung up around the house, on kitchen cabinets, on mirrors, even inside the fridge. It was often written about nature, and this line sounded quite like something he would type up and then tack to the milk carton,
Closing the book, Renity rose from her hideaway grudgingly and picked up her book bag. Her breath sparkled like cobwebs in the chill autumn air, and the silence was soft and broken only by nature’s soothing songs.
Renity nearly collided with Liam as she turned a sharp corner in the maze-like bushes that lead to her back door. “
“Oh, Liam, hi!” she said, startled.
“You know, you really shouldn’t read while you walk. You might run into something,” Liam said with a smile, picking up the book she had dropped.
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