moocow in the city

one cow. many pastures.

open pasture

open pasture

Good friends get you drunk, real friends take pictures and screen caps…

moocowinthecity No Comments

Subject: Good friends get you drunk, real friends take pictures and screen caps…

Date: Sunday 6/6/04 12:05:00 PM

Good friends get you drunk, real friends take pictures and screen caps…

So apparently, judging by my previous entry, the admission of my love to starbuckx among, many, many, many easy to reproduce digital photos I have come to the conclusion, rightfully so, that I was not drunek…^_~

For some bizzare reason people kept checking my vital signs last night…and I was all like “dude stop waking me up, just let me sleep…I swear I’m not THAT drunek, at least not enough to vomit” but they kept prodding me and it was like “just let me and my…chicken…sleep here…” and then Liz and Carrie came back to check on me, which is when I professed (I’m still not sure if I believe them) my undying love for her.

I was also apparently speaking in an english accent…

Ross, who is now going to buy the worlds largest hot tub for the back yard after the events of last night, no doubt has blackmail on all of us…for years…well everyone but me, because I post everything…bwahahhaha…wait for the weekend recap.

I also apparently freakd out stephanie when I said, apparently loudly “I’d like to ride johnny depp all night long…” – she DEFINETLY hasn’t been around me long enough, on the taudry meter, that isn’t even a .01

Oh, in other news, I have to say I am VERY proud of the stand a Mormon friend of mine is taking, though we haven’t spoken in quite some time…

open pasture

moocowinthecity No Comments

“And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return, we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game”

open pasture

Sweet Summer Rain

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Subject: Sweet Summer Rain

Date: Friday 4/23/04 4:41:00 PM

Music: Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely-Backstreet Boys-The Hits – Chapter One

Tags: writings: poetry

Sweet Summer Rain

And the sweet summer rain begins to fall, soft, down through your hair – black, falling:draped:positioned so gently across your chiselled face. The water rolling down past your chin to your stomach, following the trail down through the crevice:the center of your abs. You’re clothes sticking, clinging to the perfectly formed man…I call mine.

The sky grows dark…

And as the summer shower continues to fall, the magic of a mid summers night begins…is this a dream? No. The rain does not stop the celebration, but rather keeps it going on offering reprieve to the overheated men. Out comes the bands, the masks, the hordes of people dancing in the street – lights flashing on and off in the summers thick breeze leaving just enough darkness to the streets: a corner for us to play/a corner for us to hide…

I will always be yours, you will always be mine.

The summer rain continues to fall, as quick as the walls of innocence that sorrounded me; the summer that I left behind being a boy and transcended into a man. And as prometheus gave the fire to man, you gave something to me while taking away something of mine that was so personal…

Holding me close, not willing to share, we join the throng of people out enjoying the misty air. The smell of you musk:cigarrettes:booze forever ingratiated in the passages of my mind as my head lay on your chest, never to

forget…to forget what is:was mine.

The bluegrass and rock running through our spines; adding a soundtrack to the stories, our stories, meant to be held within. A dirty little secret/a personal internal high.

Hours pass and the planets continue to move:orbit:callide on the universal stage until we can stand no longer and we retire to the home that we, both you and I, have made.

Viva el Pueblo Oeste.

open pasture

Sweet Summer Rain

moocowinthecity No Comments

Subject: Sweet Summer Rain

Date: Friday 4/23/04 4:41:00 PM

Music: Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely-Backstreet Boys-The Hits – Chapter One

Tags: writings: poetry

Sweet Summer Rain

And the sweet summer rain begins to fall, soft, down through your hair – black, falling:draped:positioned so gently across your chiselled face. The water rolling down past your chin to your stomach, following the trail down through the crevice:the center of your abs. You’re clothes sticking, clinging to the perfectly formed man…I call mine.

The sky grows dark…

And as the summer shower continues to fall, the magic of a mid summers night begins…is this a dream? No. The rain does not stop the celebration, but rather keeps it going on offering reprieve to the overheated men. Out comes the bands, the masks, the hordes of people dancing in the street – lights flashing on and off in the summers thick breeze leaving just enough darkness to the streets: a corner for us to play/a corner for us to hide…

I will always be yours, you will always be mine.

The summer rain continues to fall, as quick as the walls of innocence that sorrounded me; the summer that I left behind being a boy and transcended into a man. And as prometheus gave the fire to man, you gave something to me while taking away something of mine that was so personal…

Holding me close, not willing to share, we join the throng of people out enjoying the misty air. The smell of you musk:cigarrettes:booze forever ingratiated in the passages of my mind as my head lay on your chest, never to

forget…to forget what is:was mine.

The bluegrass and rock running through our spines; adding a soundtrack to the stories, our stories, meant to be held within. A dirty little secret/a personal internal high.

Hours pass and the planets continue to move:orbit:callide on the universal stage until we can stand no longer and we retire to the home that we, both you and I, have made.

Viva el Pueblo Oeste.

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