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Clark (clark_lowry) wrote,
@ 2003-04-18 11:16:00
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    Current mood:content
    Current music:the execution of all things rilo kiley

    One hand reaches out to drop the ash of a cigarette into a glass pan woven with shot shades of stained glass. The piece of art noveau would be pretty if it was not coated in fine layers of expelled cigarette. Clark brings the object back to his mouth with a gentle settle on his bottom lip. The same hand flits around his face as he rubs slim fingers into the smooth flesh of his cheek. The other lets the tips dance over the keyboard with his trimmed nails making a clicking sound against the plastic. One long drag is taken from his fag before he puts it to cool in the tray. Both hands position themselves where they should be as he begins to type.

    I'm just going to jump into it. I like going right at it. There is no beating around the bush with me. I am honest, I am frank, and I put my head in and go after everything with all my heart. So, I met a few folks yesterday when I was walking through the hall. Some were a little strange, but most were fairly nice. I didn't get into any deep conversations because I did not feel that magnetic pull. Maybe I am just being unneccasarily closed off. Ha. I just fear for everyone around the wrath that rosanna_ can bring.

    It is amazing to have her here. She is my best friend. My everything. I am not going to write flowery words because I share those only with her; Christ, I sound so intimate that I shrug off all notion of me being that cocky ass. I do not write her poems and songs. So I do. Shutup. She is the bright spot in every hell. I think it is just because she can ski as well as me. Last winter was wonderful. We spent the holiday in Zurich with our skiing equipment and cups of hot chocolate. European skiing can still not beat Vail. Maybe I am just biased since I grew up there. Best snow.

    He curls his fingers around his cigarette as he brings it up for another inhale of tar. Mm, good. He fumbles slightly with setting it back in the tray; a curse word escapes his throat, in fact. His other hand moves from the keyboard as he gives the tray a spin with his eyes watching the swirl of colors in child-like delight. Oh, the colours!

    I guess this was weak. I have a bad track record with second entries.



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