I'm listening to that dark, brooding melody from the movie 28 Days Later... I wanted to snatch it online via file sharing but it wouldn't let me, and I've run out of I Tune credit for now... so I'm listening to it on You Tube, which is just as good I guess. Although I must say that when I like something, I also like very much to own it.
There was a round moon outside my window last night, although I can't tell if it was a full moon, or an 'almost' one.
I feel so feline-like in essence... maybe that's why my own cat is only loyal to me. He will never let anyone approach him and will never show any care or take a second glance at anyone but me. Not even my mother, who is the one feeding him (because I often forget...) and generally being on the look out to cater for these sort of things.
I wish I could say I feel bad when the little creature happens to shun people who try so hard to please him - like my uncle always trying to stroke him and feeding him fish... But it makes me feel great. I am the only one that matters, and it shows in his possessiveness over me. And if he hadn't chosen me over everyone else in the house, I don't think I would have grown attached to him so much... I guess I always need to feel that what is mine is mine.
I'm weird like that, I suppose, except I never say it out loud because it's supposed to be a 'bad' thing.
We just had lunch... An hour before that, my mother poured herself a drink and she took the bag of ice cubes out of the freezer and dropped a couple of them in her glass. I was sitting across the table from her, and reached out with my hand to grab an ice cube, which I then placed on the table right in front of me to watch it melt away slowly. Before I knew it, my gaze had probably turned blank or dreamy, intensely focused as it was on that piece of ice forming a tiny lake of water around it, because my mother - who was also busy cooking - asked me what I was thinking about.
That kind of snapped me out of my reverie at once. I looked up and shrugged casually.
"Nothing..." I said, and then my eyes were drawn to that piece of ice all over again. It was so warm in the kitchen, what with all the cooking... I pushed the ice cube back and forth on the table with one finger, and suddenly my mind was assailled with extremely vivid images.
One burning finger on ice melting like butter...
While this turns out to be a rather slow, lazy weekend, it isn't so much the case in that head of mine.
There were also French songs playing on the radio as my mother had put on the French channel to listen to the news. One song was quite old now, as I remembered rather clearly that it had come out when we still lived in paris. I just could not remember the name of the singer. I let myself be lulled by the lyrics, all so romantic and about a perfect, imaginary city called something like 'the isle of birds'...
There was always music playing in the house from as far back as I can remember, and my mother often liked to listen to old, romantic melodies or songs. I remember as a child I would come to sit on the floor in the living room, my head resting on a fist against the coffee table, and the music would simply never fail to transport me in world of my own.
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