Hello friends,
Have you ever noticed how sometimes seeing something or hearing a certain sound or gettin' a whoof of a familiar smell will trigger somethin' that has been filed away on that hard drive encased in your skull? I mean something that you haven't thought about in years and years and years. Like the other day I heard the song 'Afternoon Delight' by the Starland Vocal Band. So there I am wondering how this crap ever made it on the radio, then it hit me like a sock full of nickles, Skateland, that big disco ball, the motor cycle 'jumpin the buses' arcade game, my Jim Cook 700's, and how I felt every time I saw Melodie Ashley skate by with that big Farrah Faucet hair-do (she broke my heart and made me cry) That stupid song some how extracted those memories from my not-so-recent file, dusted them off, and cracked them smack dab across my kisser. Well, today I was screwin' off when I was suppose to be workin' and I saw a 1963 Corvette split window coupe sailin' down the road. I thought what a cool car. Then, another file opened and I thought about Julie Kirsch (If I remember right she had a copper colored 63' Vette. James will have to help me out on that one) Once I thought about her I forgot all about the dumb ol' car. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Julie was 2 or 3 years older than me. I remember the first time I saw her was at Pink Barn when I was in 7th grade. Pink Barn was suppose to be a dance school (and I guess it was) but it was where you went to meet girls when you were 12 where I'm from. Julie was a instructor or a helper or somethin'. I'm not sure what she was doin' there, but what she was doin' there was not important, what was important was that she was there doin' what she was doin'. Now, today Julie wouldn't remember me or remember that we danced together. I don't know why we danced. I don't think it was because I was such a great dancer (But I was. I could have gone professional. I won the tri-state championship 3 years runnin', then I just quit) I don't think it was because I was brutally handsome (Good lord no. I was about the goofiest, most awkward, skinniest, dope you have ever seen. The brutally handsome thing came later) It was probably because none of the girls would dance with me. What ever the reason was, I didn't care. The height difference was perfect. My face was right at boob level (Sorry James) And she smelled so good. Man-0-man, did she ever. But the kicker was, that she was very nice to me. Boy-howdy, she made my stomach do flip-flops. I never wanted the song to end. But sadly, it did. Let me tell you something friends, in the eyes of a 7th grade little boy, Julie Kirsch was a full grown woman.
You know, I guess that's true about almost everything in my life, no matter how much I love the song, it always ends.
I like the way those disco balls throw dots of light all over a dance floor.
Have you ever noticed how sometimes seeing something or hearing a certain sound or gettin' a whoof of a familiar smell will trigger somethin' that has been filed away on that hard drive encased in your skull? I mean something that you haven't thought about in years and years and years. Like the other day I heard the song 'Afternoon Delight' by the Starland Vocal Band. So there I am wondering how this crap ever made it on the radio, then it hit me like a sock full of nickles, Skateland, that big disco ball, the motor cycle 'jumpin the buses' arcade game, my Jim Cook 700's, and how I felt every time I saw Melodie Ashley skate by with that big Farrah Faucet hair-do (she broke my heart and made me cry) That stupid song some how extracted those memories from my not-so-recent file, dusted them off, and cracked them smack dab across my kisser. Well, today I was screwin' off when I was suppose to be workin' and I saw a 1963 Corvette split window coupe sailin' down the road. I thought what a cool car. Then, another file opened and I thought about Julie Kirsch (If I remember right she had a copper colored 63' Vette. James will have to help me out on that one) Once I thought about her I forgot all about the dumb ol' car. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Julie was 2 or 3 years older than me. I remember the first time I saw her was at Pink Barn when I was in 7th grade. Pink Barn was suppose to be a dance school (and I guess it was) but it was where you went to meet girls when you were 12 where I'm from. Julie was a instructor or a helper or somethin'. I'm not sure what she was doin' there, but what she was doin' there was not important, what was important was that she was there doin' what she was doin'. Now, today Julie wouldn't remember me or remember that we danced together. I don't know why we danced. I don't think it was because I was such a great dancer (But I was. I could have gone professional. I won the tri-state championship 3 years runnin', then I just quit) I don't think it was because I was brutally handsome (Good lord no. I was about the goofiest, most awkward, skinniest, dope you have ever seen. The brutally handsome thing came later) It was probably because none of the girls would dance with me. What ever the reason was, I didn't care. The height difference was perfect. My face was right at boob level (Sorry James) And she smelled so good. Man-0-man, did she ever. But the kicker was, that she was very nice to me. Boy-howdy, she made my stomach do flip-flops. I never wanted the song to end. But sadly, it did. Let me tell you something friends, in the eyes of a 7th grade little boy, Julie Kirsch was a full grown woman.
You know, I guess that's true about almost everything in my life, no matter how much I love the song, it always ends.
I like the way those disco balls throw dots of light all over a dance floor.
Here are a few tunes Julie and I might have danced to a long, long , time ago.
Adios,
~e~
Adios,
~e~
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