Quasi Choate

The way things are going for me right now doesn’t allot me a sufficient amount of time to be consistent with this blog, let alone to be consistent with writing. Some of my avid followers, if such a thing exists, have probably noticed my decline in consistency with posting.

From now on, I’ll just be posting when I can and when I feel like it. I can no longer carry the burden of persistently providing a public expression of my thoughts and feelings. I wish everyone the best in all that they do.

1 Corinthians 10:31

I speak now of a girl, one of a kind, 

That leads a trip just like an endless train.

Her cognitive intelligence in mind,

My muse intrigued by essence of her brain

Ineffable, the thoughts that she provoke;

My mind in awestruck splendor ev’ry day.

An endless canvas from the words she spoke,

Leaves me to paint a masterful display.

Yet now I sense that I have been obsessed

With intellect that flows out from her lips.

I’ve never pondered style in which she dressed.

‘Tis her anatomy I now forget.

I ask myself if I truly love her,

Or if I love her brain. I now concur. 

Thank You, God, for giving me the most precious gift: my missing rib.

Nublada is one of the greatest things ever given to me. My tears don’t even begin to explain how beautiful she is and how beautiful she can make me feel. I’m supposed to be asleep right now, but love is independent of bedtimes and lack of sleep. I love you, Nublada. I love God for giving you to me, and me to you.

For the record, I cried after you prayed for me tonight. I do love you. Mucho mucho mucho mucho mucho, con toda mi corazón. Muchissimo, mi amor.

Sitting 32,137 feet in the sky, I feel I can’t die while the others cry. They sob and wimper and fret and complain. Their negative impressions are what weigh down the plane.

But I sustain my attitude. I keep my composure. Only 2,447 more miles and this flight is over. I’ve yet to write my poems about blind men and blanks. I need an inspiration withdrawal from the muse bank.

As Scherzi go on and pianos play, all my attention fades away. I just bask in the moment while I’m in the sky. I toss my imagination out of the window so it can fly.

Before your mind begins reminiscing about mirrors, I do not mean that type of reflection. What I mean is looking back at something from the past. Last year in March, I made posts entitled “What I Want In A Girl.” A year later, now that I have a girl, I’m reflecting back on what I wanted and seeing if that’s what I still want and if I even have that. What is seen in italics and quotes is the text from those past posts.

“I want a girl that smiles. I’ve been seeing a lot of pictures with physically pretty and even beautiful women in them, yet they don’t smile. That’s a huge turn-off. And I know I rarely smile, but I’ll try and work on that.  ”

- Well I can be assured that I finally have a girl that smiles. How could I forget that priceless smile revealed through the elaborate countenance of a beauty such as her. Her smile is what I yearn to see, what I look forward to when I am with her; and, if I am the source of the smile, the fulfillment of my desire is that much sweeter. Nublada, she smiles.

“I want a girl that doesn’t feel the need to spend money on useless things excessively. I can see that maybe she’d want to go out sometime or maybe even buy something expensive sometime. But, if she feels the urge to always go out and always buy something, then that could turn into the habit of acquiring unnecessary things, and at some point that may mean money out of my pocket that might be spent. Of course, I’d like to buy her things. I mean, why not? But let’s not get out of hand. I want a girl that finds pleasure in the moments, not the trinkets and charms. I want a girl that would rather spend an hour singing and taking pictures with me than spend a few seconds purchasing an expensive meal when we could go to McDonald’s  a cheaper place and get full. ”

- Nublada, being extremely rich, spends money on trivial things all the time; at least, they’re trivial in the eyes of an objective world. But knowing how important style and fashion is to her, I understand how vital the purchasing of new clothes must be. As far as my own money goes, I bought her a sketch book so that she may have a canvas to etch her creative, stylistic prowess upon. We’ve yet to go to McDonald’s a cheap place to eat, but we do plan on going to Chipotle.

Well she’s what I want, and more importantly what I need. 

I understand this post may not be as inspiring or thought-provoking as my usual ones, but this blog’s sole purpose is not to inspire, it is to track my life’s progress. Fortunately for you all, my life’s progress is filled with enlightenment that I could not bare to keep from anyone. Good Night.

Could I have met you sooner, I would take much advantage of the time and invest it in making you experience basorexia.
Having known you for this time, I can say that I have been succumbed by the desire to have my lips grace yours.
Every valuable glance of your lips that my eye steals from the world is worth more than a kiss to a baby from the President elect.
I await the day to come that I may embrace the very nature of your lips: their softness, their smoothness, their warm caress.
Let the day come with more haste than 60 beats per minute and sooth my yearning for perfection.
Open the doors of opportunity and allow yourself to take a chance.
Perhaps my overwhelming desire will overflow and succumb you as well.
Rest, and do consider such an offer.
On the soft pillow that supports your head, the same pillow that detests how much softer your lips are, deliberate my proffer to you.
Consider the mortification I may experience from your refusal to allow me to embody the true meaning of fulfilment.
Lest you deny me my fulfilment, I have written my letter of leave, denying myself the ability to live.
I have set our potential embrace as my sole purpose in life.
To live life with no purpose is to die.
In hope, I await your reciprocation.
Could I have met you sooner, I am sure it would seem that I am much closer than I am now.

someone to write handwritten letters back and forth with. That would be interesting, to see the diction personified in their handwriting, regardless of its presentation. 

Ah well. It seems, in this day and age, one can only dream.