My Love Must Be a Kind of Blind Love

I can't see anyone but you.

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Following up something classic with a new edition that is as heartfelt. I only have ears for this song, right now.

I get in moods where the soundtrack owns everything.

This kind of plea is rare, anymore. It is passé to express this kind of emotion publicly. Everyone has their game face on.

Game Face is the new black.



Let's reverse that, peoples. We actually have the choice to do it, you know. Be honey bees. Zoom in on that ultra violet instead of searching for a glint of chrome.

Request exactly what you want. Always.

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Professionally speaking there is a better, alternative route. But that is for another time.

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Tonight I am only here regarding matters of the heart and primal response (often these are one and the same, you see).

Now I want you to play a game with me. Take a journey, if you will. Okay? Okay.

Concentrate for a moment or seven on that tiny second that precedes a first kiss. The mental hype and endorphin rush that goes along with smelling someone that you like for the very first time. And so intimately.

All of your extremities tingling with anticipation and fear simultaneously.

Concentrate on that and then imagine it happening daily for like, 3 months.

That's what I want. And then I want more after that.



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I am typing this with more than half of my left hand bandaged in the wake of cutting myself 3 times while whittling a nameplate necklace for a stuffed lion to wear during a photo shoot. Yes. This is my present state.

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See also: tired. Gonna go to sleep now, wake up, and probably delete this while everyone is still sleeping.

Sounds like a plan to me.

Sweet dreams.

Bon soir.

Buena suerte.