CNN’s coverage? No. You just wore your cute little dress from the Fidelity video and pouted all night. And when everyone kept asking you if you were having fun, all you did was point at me and sing in that airy little head voice: “It breaks my har, har-he-har, har-he-har har-he, heart.” I guess that’s kind of funny. In a way. I don’t know. Look, I just can't settle down with that despite those sensational stockings and heels, which, let's be honest, were what attracted me to you in the first place.
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And before you ask, let me just answer: No, there is no other woman. Sad as it is to admit, I haven't found anyone better than you. I mean, you have some nice attributes: You can play piano, you write your own stuff and, as far as I can tell, you have no intention of ever recording with Timbaland. But is that enough? Is that where we're at in 2009. Just because you're not this or this or this, do I have to fall head over heels? Well, I'm sorry, Reggie, this blogger still believes in a little something called love. Also, you look a lot like my grandma, who took a bullet to the leg while fleeing Russia during the communist revolution.
I don't know. Maybe it's me? Maybe I can't love. Maybe as a young man I gave my heart too fully to a wise older woman named Kate Bush. We spent a summer in Paris and she made all the quirky songstresses who followed seem like mere poseurs and/or East Village waitresses hawking their wares at an Avenue A open mic night. That could be true, but I have to believe there's still hope. That some day, some way, I'll find my companion.
Goodbye Regikins. I wish you every success.
Love,
G-Stone
P.S. Do you mind if I still keep you as my Facebook friend? (I would like to have some way of contacting you to digg my columns.) Thanks a bunch!
Find out more about G-Stone at Kafka Lives In Maine.
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