Sinister: lovesick on a sunny afternoon...

[Blake E. Hamilton]

Well, for sure, it's not sunny this day--it's more of a neurotic grey fuzz
that sort of slides all over the horizon.  It's strangely invigorating--much
like badly made war flicks.  I am writing for if anyone does remember my
dilemma with the girl with the fiery gown, well it was furthered yesterday
as a group of my lads and i (including my younger, but equally disturbed and
shy brother) visited the restaurant where my favorite girl works.  A bad
part about having a huge crush on someone in the food and beverage industry,
is that it gets worse when their restaurant is really popular.  Oh how sad
it gets.  The opportunities for dialogue are few, if any.  Thusly, she is
always so busy, and running around the place, though i do believe her feet
don't touch the ground, for it's a simple hovering/goddess maneuver.  Well
to get to the point, we couldn't bring ourselves to stop her running around
and randomly say, "you look mighty charming today, may I ask you to sit and
have a coffee with me?".  Though I wish it was possible, it was not,
however.  Upon seeing her the first time earlier this week, I made a guess
at her name.  I stated that she looked much like an Elizabeth--oh how I
truly love that name, and all its various variations.  Well, upon leaving
last night, a chap of mine had the true courage to ask our waiter what her
name was.
"Excuse me, could you tell me what that hostess' name is, the one in the
deep blue dress?"
"Oh, that would be Beth, Beth Currasco"

And at that, I simply smiled and walked out, lightly looking back at her and
smiling.  I don't believe she saw me, however.  My friends and I just stood
in the parking lot, them in awe at me for guessing her name, and me in shock
that I had walked out of the restaurant without muttering a word.  So now,
I'm back at point A.  Though I'd really love to ask her to sit down and
chat, I don't believe I have that freedom.  I hardly slept last night,
love's hands around my neck, its knuckles white and relentless.

So I thought I'd write her a letter, sounds reasonable right?  Well I think
the man said her name wrong (it's definitely Italian-based), so we sat,
brainstorming, Caruso, Carrisimo, et al.  Stumped we were.  So now I have no
clues, no avenues, no streets to walk happily down.

Sorry for the rant, may all your days be saturated with fiery bliss.
always,
blake

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