Mango Malibu

There are little details we forget. Like, were the windows down?
It's more romantic with the windows down.
We were somewhere in the Interior. Between here and there. Summer
sunshine pouring throught the (possibly) open windows.
Surrounded by tall grasses and a thousand slender birch trees.
Birch might be my favourite tree.
It was probably Nell's idea to make Mango Malibu Sangria. I certainly
would have never thought of it.
Three girls in the back seat sipping from plastic picnic cups, the
kind with straws attached, the kind that are impossible to clean while
you're camping so you close your eyes and try not to think about
germs.
Paul Simon's Graceland playing loud.
"Diamonds on the Souls of Her Shoes" always takes me back there. Some
country road.
Our brown arms waving, our big mouths singing, our hair (maybe)
whipping in the wind.

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Then it hit me.

There is no need to be offended.
It's almost always a choice.
And it's silly.

And my head is slowly removing itself from my ass.

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Midnight in Paris

If you make a movie that's about Paris, takes place in Paris, has a
scene in Paris, or even hints at the possibility that parts of it
could be Paris, I am going to love it.
Not that anyone is making movies for me.
Anyway, it was a good reminder that Paris is beautiful, that I am a
romantic, and "C'est l'age d'or!"
Throw in some beautiful costumes and clouds of pincurls.

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