| Sangria: Not Just For Breakfast Anymore |
[19 Apr 2008|10:50pm] |
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Year of the Cat (Al Stewart) |
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Went to the neighborhood pizza place with Victoria where we had the usual pizza and pitcher of red sangria. Nothing like some red wine with fruit in it to make a girl feel that she's making some healthy choices. Vic has been absorbed with putting Remix to bed. I'm amazed at how she can write so many stories between her own and pinch-hitting.
I am sleeping in the maid's room of my roomate's apartment while the new airconditioning units are being put into the bedrooms and the living room and parlor. Could be sleeping on an air mattress, but instead decided to sleep on the massage table as the maid's room is only 12' long by 5' wide. Have been back here since Monday night; my room is covered with plastic sheeting to protect the furniture and carpet from the construction dust. The roommate went to stay with one of her friends downtown. The massage table is ok for a night or two as long as I don't make any sudden moves, but it's a little hard. For three of the nights last week I snuck back into my room and slept; there was a big hole in the wall where the AC hadn't been put in yet, so I figured the fresh air would keep me from inhaling lethal amounts of dust. Now, the hardware has been placed into the wall, so there's no air coming in. Can't promise I'll won't sneak back, though! I miss my bed.
My best high school friend (kind of first boyfriend) has a birthday coming up, and I have made him a CD of meaningful songs from 'back in the day.' While searching Itunes for the songs, I came across a jazzy/ska acoustic version of Player's BABY COME BACK which I tagged on as the last song. I had to have the original because there's a part in the song where one of the singer's says "listen baby" that's not in the acoustic version.
Here's the songlist:
She's Gone - Hall and Oates
Cold as Ice- Foreigner
Strange Way - Firefall
More Than A Feeling - Boston
You Are the Woman - Firefall
Year of the Cat - Al Stewart
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
You're the Only Woman - Ambrosia
Reminiscing - Little River Band
How Deep is Your Love-Bee Gees
I Just Want Stop-Gino Vanelli
Weekend in New England
Baby Come Back - Player
Since I don't have access to a TV until the plastic is removed from the appliances, I am missing MADTV. I hope they're going to to a parody of Madonna and Justin Timberlake's new video. (I love the song.) MADTV does hilarious Madonna video take-offs.
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| Seven Songs I'm Into Now |
[27 Jan 2007|12:15pm] |
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The Reflex - Duran Duran |
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List seven "songs" you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your LJ along with your seven songs.
1. Over My Head - The Fray (Good for walking to and from subway)
2. How to Save A Life - The Fray (Good for daydreaming while on the subway)
3. Dancing Shoies - Dan Fogelberg (Top played of all my IPOD songs - good for sitting on bed while cleaning out handbags)
4. When Your Eyes Open - Keane (Good for daydreaming about the next Remus/Sirus story Muse's Fool is going to write as inspired by this song)
5. Red Rain - Peter Gabriel (Played this for a month over Christmas in my sister's car and now need to buy it from Itunes. Good for driving around with a big drink from QT--that beverage heaven that is a tiny consolation for endless suburban sprawl.)
6. Tonight I Want to Cry - Keith Urban (Good for wondering about celebrity rehab. Keith drinks "a bottle of white" in the song.)
7. The Reflex - Duran Duran (Great for Windexing bathroom mirrors. Contains the bouncy lyric: "I'm on a ride that I wanna get of, but they won't slow down the roundabout.")
7.
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| It's All Very Curious |
[13 Feb 2006|03:35pm] |
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None |
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So, my company moved our office from the 6th floor to the 3rd floor of a midtown building on Friday. Came in today to find new furniture, new chairs, and offices with sliding glass doors. My outside view looks like something from THE JUNGLE: the backsides of old tenement buildings with rickety-looking fire escapes. But then...if you look over the bad buildings and crane your neck (this involves sticking your head under the blinds), you get a view of the top three quarters of the top of the Chrysler Building against the sky. It's a dream come true!
I do have two questions for Management, though:
1. Why is it that when there’s a mere whisper of one tiny hint of a snowflake they close down the office at noon? Yet…when the biggest blizzard in recorded history hits the area, they have the office open the very next morning? Never mind that people have to walk through 4-foot drifts and huge puddles of dirty, icy slush. Never mind that people have to stand in the cold wet smelly subway underneath increasingly heavy drips of water mixed with God-knows-what. I was a block away from the office and inevitably slid on the slush and landed on my knees into a puddle in front of a very cute guy. He was sweet and solicitous (like one would be to one’s favorite dotty aunt), and then told me to have a nice day. That almost made up for everything—but not quite.
2nd question: what do you do if your ass doesn’t fit into your new chair?
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| My Five Big Crushes |
[14 Feb 2005|04:51pm] |
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Tom McCrae |
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Per Muse's Fool:
List five fictional people -- from television, movies, books, whatever -- that you had a crush on as a child (or early teens). Then post this on your LiveJournal so other people can know what a dork you've always been.
1. First Crush, Biggest Crush Ever: David Cassidy as Keith Partridge (I liked his gorgeous hair and goofy, unthreatening sexualty)
2. Minor crush, first sex dream: Michael Jackson (I know, I'm scared, too)
3. Western Crush #1, Adam Cartwright (I liked that he lived on a big ranch but never seemed to spend much time working and instead read a lot of books.)
4. Western crush #2, A. Martinez as Cimarron in THE COWBOYS movie/tv show. (I liked his tough but wounded mien and hot, young Latin looks.)
5. Misunderstood Guy with Animal Background Crush - Kevin Brophy as Lucan the Wolfboy. (Don't remember if he really turned into wolf, or if he was just raised by wolves? He also had nice hair.)
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| 5 Celebs |
[03 Dec 2004|01:19pm] |
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Pale Shelter, TEARS FOR FEARS |
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Inspired by Vic's journal:
Five Celebrities I'd Sleep with If They Turned Up on My Doorstep
1. Sting and Bono - They'd have to come together
2. Robert Downey, Jr. - For the conversation
3. Sean Bean - that's just sensible
4. Bernard Kerik - because I actually read his book when it came out; and if he's not afraid of terrorists, he's probably not afraid to kill bugs.
5. Mickey Rooney - sure, he's 84, but since I dragged my ass 10 hours in the car to see his show in Branson, MO and only got 1 show-biz ancecdote/film clip from him for every 6 holiday songs performed by the Lennon Brothers, he owes me. I'd make him do to me whatever he did to get 8 women to marry him, and then I'd let him nap.
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| Honey, will you hold my purse? |
[04 Nov 2004|12:17pm] |
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REM Around the Sun |
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REM tonight with Victoria. I'm so excited! Got the new REM CD this morning and it's terrific.
Last Thursday night I went to Tears for Fears by myself at the Beacon Theatre (home of the March sold-out STING concert.) All I can say is the boyz from Tears for Fears sound better (and look much better!) than they did in the '80s; (they were always cute in a laughably broody kind of way, but they are much more manly now without the fluffy mullets.) The concert was spectacular! The Beacon Theatre is about 1/3 the size of the Fox in Atlanta, but same set-up. I was in the 10th row right smack in the middle on the floor. It was a perfect concert experience. The crowd stood nearly the whole time and sang along with the band.
I'd gone to a bar beforehand for a little while and then just hung out in the theatre lobby looking over the crowd. It was mostly people my age, some a little younger. I was hoping for 40-year old hipster to spy me across the room and ask if I was appalled by the upcoming WE ARE THE WORLD VIDEO REMAKE--but no such luck. Later, I analyzed my look: fuschia blazer, black velvet jeans and patent-leather handbag. It struck me that I looked like a woman waiting for her dentist-husband to come out of the mens' room. Perhaps I should work on that...
I sat next to a guy from New Jersey whose wife let him out for the night. He was playing air-drums during most of the concert, and held up his cell phone during the big hits.
I saw that T 4 F is playing in Boulder the day I leave Denver. I would love to see them again, but sometimes it's best not to be always trying to recreate a great experience. Plus, I'll be on the way to seeing my 91-year old grandfather in South Dakota.
These are the concerts that I've seen in the last year or so:
Pearl Jam (Madison Square Garden)
KC and the Sunshine Band (BB King's Blues Club)
Sting and Annie Lennox (had to go all the way to Atlanta for that)
Carole King (had to go all the way to Boca Raton for that)
Eric Clapton (had to go all the way to Denver for that)
Tom McCrae (Joe's Pub and Fez in the same night!)
Barry Manilow (Madison Square Garden)
Tears for Fears (Beacon)
and now REM.
The ultimate will be U2. I haven't seen them since the Unforgettable Fire tour. They're touring again in the spring, so I must monitor that.
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[17 Oct 2004|12:14pm] |
If you'd like to, when you see this, post a poem in your own journal
A Dream Of Death by William B. Yeats
I dreamed that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
She was more beautiful than thy first love,
But now lies under boards.
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[11 Oct 2004|02:55pm] |
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Nik Kershaw, 15 MINUTES |
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Living in a city like New York where a girl walks the streets, she is bound to receive appreciative comments from men.
I have noticed that most of the men who whistle, wink, smile, comment, or look me up and down as if I were the last hot sausage on a street vendor's cart are black or hispanic. (I have never had an Asian man say "mmm, you so hot" as he passed, and the white men all look like they're wondering if they remembered to program their TiVo.)
I can usually tell as I see a man coming toward me if he's going to say something or not. He's walking with his head up, surveying everything around him, but not too fast. He might be any age, in a suit or in jeans, often from another country--I guess, where people are friendlier. What I usually get is "beautiful," or "hot!" or "you got it" or "fine!" (Once when I was wearing a Calvin Klein t-shirt a man said, with his eyes glued to my bosom, "I LOVE Calvin Klein!" )
I am not saying all of this because I think I am as hot as Britney Spears in August, 3rd barbecue sandwich in hand, 2nd wedding reception under her belt. I'm just saying, the audience is clearly there, and its members are applauding.
So yesterday, while walking through Grand Central Station, I spot a man of color coming toward me. Probably about 50, backwards baseball cap, messenger bag, relaxed smile (with a few teeth missing.) I did not give him any encouragement, and kept on my path with a pleasant and vague expression on my face. But I could tell that something was coming.
He was a mere foot away when he said, under his breath, "Hey, chubby."
I actually turned around to see if there was a chubby person behind me; there was not. He was talking to me!
There are no words.
(Except, whatever happened to "foxy lady?!")
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| "The End" |
[23 Sep 2004|11:49am] |
Went to a hotel sales reception at the Algonquin Hotel last night. I would like to move in there, particularly into the cozy two-room suite with original New Yorker Art and high ceilings. I could wear bias-cut silk gowns and turbans. And borrow one of Victoria's 85 red lipsticks.
I can't believe I never knew this, but it's a tradition for writers to come to the hotel to write the last page of their story/book. The hotel is advertising this, so I guess the tradition is being encouraged. I would like to sit at the Round Table with a big cosmopolitan and finish my final page with a flourish. (Of course, I have to write all the pages that come before, first.)
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| Bring Back Those Bad Boys |
[20 Aug 2004|03:04pm] |
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THE CURE |
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There is something poignant, hopeful and a little cute when a beatiful 25 year-old who's a little overweight joins a gym and is put through her paces by an overzealous personal trainer. He might be her age, and may say things like, "Grapefruit! It's the key! You eat 6 of those bad boys a day and you'll be "animal" in no time!"
On the other hand, when that same woman is 42, a bit more overweight, and is dependent on red lipstick to maintain her perception (likely warped) of her good looks, the story is not so pretty. While working out, this woman, at 25, would have worn biker shorts and a white and black RELAX t-shirt. Today for her free personal training/assessment at the Gym she wore a nightgown-sized red t-shirt, the same black cotton pants that she wore to work (they have lycra in them), white socks and red workout shoes. In short, she looked like a retarded clown.
The trainer, (no affable grapefruit-touting airhead), a dark-haired, compact 25-year old, seemed to have two tools in his arsenal of Motivation: a constant frown and an intense, low voice that kept prompting her to stare at him and say, "what? I can't hear you."
At the end of the grueling workout which included a lot of squats with a big rubber ball and endless, humiliating arm exercises, the trainer went for the big sales pitch as follows:
Trainer: How old are you?
Trainee: 42.
Trainer: Got kids?
Trainee: No.
Trainer: Never married?
Trainee: Uh, no. Afraid not.
(Is this the part where she should tell him that she did have a boyfriend from 1987-1995 and that when he broke up with her he told her that it wasn't just because of her weight it was because of her attitude?)
Trainer: Well, you're still...I mean, you're really not..that old. You still have a lot of life ahead of you.
Trainee: Uh, YEAH. I KNOW I do!
Trainer: So, you know, you want to think about the future. You don't want to have to use an oxygen machine to breathe down the road, right?
Trainee: Uh, right.
Is it really going to take $2000 and 25 personal training sessions to get "animal?" I think I'll stick with the grapefruit.
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[25 Jul 2004|01:32am] |
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I SHOT THE SHERIFF (reverberating in my head) |
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Am in Denver for a conference (for once, attending instead of planning). Just got in today & was a guest of the Convention and Visitors Bureau at Tamayo Restaurant (upscale Mexican). Then, they took us to the Eric Clapton concert at the Pepsi Center. We were way up in a sky box with a bar and many desserts/cordials/etc.
Eric Clapton was on fire! I've seen him several times--in the early & mid-nineties. I swear, he just gets better with age. He opened with LET IT RAIN, did a spectacular I SHOT THE SHERIFF, included lots of blues, and then ended with the following: BADGE, WONDERFUL TONIGHT, LAYLA, COCAINE. Then, he did an encore with SUNSHINE OF YOUR LOVE. I couldn't have asked for better. (OK, maybe WHITE ROOM. And thank God he didn't sing that annoying jangly LAY DOWN SALLY.)
Am about 1/3 way through PRISONER OF AZKABAN. Victoria gave it to me (on her birthday, ironically) because she is TERRIFIED I'm going to try to do the Remus Remix based solely on the fan fic (mostly hers!) that I've read. Don't worry, Vic. I'll do your Boy right.
Interesting that Remus is described several times as "young" but with grey hair and lines on his face. And nowhere is he described as "pear shaped" the way he looked in the movie.
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| Take Care of Your Innards |
[13 Jul 2004|12:22pm] |
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THE CURE - new album |
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I killed a little time last night reading STAR magazine--the issue highlighting celebrity flaws: Tori Spelling's cellulite, Anna Nicole Smith's underarm jiggle, etc. It didn't make me feel better about my own flaws. Actually, it made me a little sick. You'd be surprised how many celebrities have deformed or partially missing fingers (Denzel, Cameron, Matt Perry.)
There was an article on Russell Crowe filming a movie in Toronto. Apparently, he and his wife were eating dinner at a steak house, and another patron was having trouble with his debit card being accepted. So Russell says, "I'll pass you some cash, mate, if you need it."
That Russell. God love him.
A few minutes ago one of my meeting planners just informed me she's going to go for major surgery in September and will be out for 8 weeks--back just in time to go to Denver for our big conference--if the doctor lets her go! Good God.
Of course, her health is the most important thing. Here's the last thing I said to her as she left my office,
"well, don't I always say 'take care of your innards?' That's second ONLY to 'there's always time for lipstick."
Hey, everyone has her own management style.
In order of importance, here's how I advise my staff:
1. There's always time for lipstick
2. Take care of your innards
3. Stay close to the Lord
(this works on two levels: literal, if your staff member is religious; ironic if she's not.)
4. Destroy the evidence
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| Top Five Fav Songs |
[23 Jun 2004|11:18am] |
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She's A Beauty - The Tubes |
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So, after watching last night's American Film Institute top 100 songs in movies, I thought about what I'd pick for my top 5 favorite songs. They had to be songs that got hit me dead center from the start (like the way that first bite of pizza hits you.) It's hard to narrow it down to 5, but that means you don't think about it so much.
These aren't necessarily songs I think are the "best" songs. (I think many people would agree that "Thunder Road" could be considered a "best" song the same way THE GODFATHER could be considered a "best" movie.) But this is about a psychic connection with a song. (And there's nothing wrong with having a psychic connection with The Bangles' immortal "Eternal Flame.")
So here are my top five. I'd love to hear yours!
5. Bye Bye Love (The Cars)
4. Inside (Sting)
3. Photograph (Def Leppard)
2. Lovesong (The Cure)
1. New Year's Day (U2)
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| The Remix (Is A Lonely Child Waiting in the Park) |
[18 May 2004|04:37pm] |
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Spring fevered |
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The Reflex DURAN DURAN |
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I want to thank Victoria for the spectacular job she did organizing the Remix--not to mention the poking, threatening and writing she took on as well.
I know that she took this project seriously because even in the dark movie theatre, distracted as I was by the manly glory of Sean Bean's Odysseus and annoyed as I was by the jackass chattering behind me, I sensed Victoria's lower eyelid twitching from sheer Remix anxiety.
"Vic," I said later, "you're not going to stay up all night with this Remix thing, are you?"
"No, no," she said. But, of course, she was up till 4:00am. (Eating dinner at 11:00pm didn't help.)
The author of the story that I remixed sent me some very nice, very specific feedback. I appreciated that! She wrote a great story, and though I was happy with my Remix, I'm very satisfied that she liked it as well.
Now, about TROY: I give it a "B." It was very good, occasionally great. The NY POST said that Orlando Bloom's acting was laughably bad--which I don't agree with.
Brad Pitt's characterization of Achilles is excellent; his weak spot is his accent. He has a lazy voice (different from Keanu Reeves who has a very flat voice), and I think that makes his English accent sound forced. Eric Bana is terrific and Sean Bean is solid as always and gives as nuanced a performance as he can amidst all the commotion.
Victoria and I laughed when we saw the credit stating that TROY was "inspired" by the ILLIAD--because there was a lot of "creative" license.
Incidentally, Peter O'Toole said that Brad Pitt was a good actor, on his way to becoming a "fine" one.
Also, I need to thank Vic for her advice when I called her today: the first time, to tell her that I'm thinking about applying for the MBA program at NYU. (She said I could learn all that stuff by reading books.)
The second time I called her was to say that I'd reconsidered and thought I'd apply to the ACTOR'S Studio Drama Program. (Never mind that I haven't been in a play since my acclaimed performance in the Chamblee High School production of ARSENIC AND OLD LACE in November, 1978.)
After these two calls, she suggested that perhaps what I needed was a fling with a Young Man rather than an expensive 3-year academic endeavor to cure my spring fever/mid-life crisis.
She may be on to something...
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| Don't Run on the Stairs |
[12 May 2004|11:48am] |
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Save A Prayer DURAN DURAN |
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So Vic and I will see TROY on Friday! Brad Pitt will be on Charlie Rose one night this week (was supposed to be on last night but was bumped). At the TROY premiere Sean Bean told Cindy Adams of the POST all about the tuxedo he was wearing. God love him.
My mom's coming in from Atlanta this weekend--but not till Saturday so I don't have to wait in suspense till next week. Of course she'd be willing to see TROY with me (although no one is as good as Vic for dreamy, repetitious musings about the TROY boyz), but I think she'd prefer a play or the Tenement Museum--which is a great NY experience for residents and those constant out-of-town guests. It's an hour tour (there are four different ones), in a partially restored tenement building; some of it is left unrestored intentionally. When you realize how dark and hot and odorific it was to live in those apartments--with other families and a single toilet in a closet, you can hardly believe it. And you had to carry kerosene lamps up 5 flights just to have some light--plus women put kerosene in their hair to kill lice. What a fire hazard!
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| Man Your Stations |
[28 Apr 2004|05:21pm] |
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shocked |
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DURAN DURAN, Save A Prayer |
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I just learned today about an "incident" that occurred during a Senior Staff meeting of my company at a local New York hotel--the old grande dame kind, undergoing renovations.
As I am head of the conference-planning department, I was particularly interested. And if my staff weren't so busy posting their pictures on match.com and talking about wigs, they might have gotten around to telling me this story--which happened last Friday!
My CEO (a former high-level military man), was standing at the head of a conference table making a presentation to the group. Suddenly, a 1.5 inch roach dropped from the ceiling onto the conference table. The CEO picked up a water glass and plunked it down on top of the bug, trapping it without ceremony, and continued his presentation uninterrupted; well except for the squeals of the 10 staff members.
During the break, the CEO's "right-hand man" took the trapped bug to our hotel contact and said, "I have something that belongs to you."
Nice...
The only thing worse than this story is the time that a similar bug hid in the toe of my high heel, and clung there even after I shook it (as I routinely did in Atlanta.) I drove to work with that bug in my shoe, pressed up against my foot, until I realized something was wrong, and dumped it out into the parking lot at work.
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| Return of The King Third Viewing: Mission Accomplished |
[27 Apr 2004|11:38am] |
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View to a Kill DURAN DURAN |
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Last night, Vic and I went to see Return of the King for the third time. We needed to see it on the big screen again before it's gone; and it's only playing in one theatre in NYC--right in Times Square in the Virgin Store.
There are so few people with whom I can share my craving for the ROTHK full film experience. My mother (the nicest woman you will ever meet), once said to me, "Well, you'd probably have a lot more money if you didn't fritter it away on magazines and pantyhose."
I think seeing a movie over and over might come under technical "frittering."
The good news was that the ROTHK has been around so long the tickets were only $5.50 instead of $10.25!
The bad news: the $5.50 shows attract people with a lot of time on their hands and nowhere else to go. These people tend to talk during movies and then fall asleep and snore.
Two men(possibly homeless)who spelled trouble from the start (came in late, talking at full volume) settled themselves in the row in front of us. This huge theatre was nearly empty, so there was no reason for it. They continued their talking (to each other and to the screen), until I tapped one of them and said, "Please, if you're going to talk, go sit somewhere else."
This was very out of character for me; I'm much more a silent seether.
Later, as one of them kept talking on and on, I realized that the man I'd tapped was truly trying not to talk, and that made me feel kind of bad. Much later (after a lot of on and off snoring), in the film when the eagle picks Frodo off of Mt. Doom, the bad talker says, "look how gently that eagle is lifting him."
That made me want to grab some of the napkins Vic was hoarding for her own trickly tears!
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| Happy Birthday |
[12 Apr 2004|11:12am] |
Today is David Cassidy's Birthday.
Thought for the day:
Have you ever noticed that, as they age, boyish-looking men end up looking like old boys?
Except for David, of course.
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| Sting Really Is XXX |
[26 Mar 2004|03:14pm] |
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Duran Duran SAVE A PRAYER |
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In an earlier entry this week, I wrote about Vic and my having dinner in a restaurant and my telling her about Sting tickets in March going for $2900. The many geographic details in the entry made her nervous; so, to appease her, I went back and edited my entry. First, to be considerate, I took out some key references. Then, to be a smartass, I took out some innocuous details; then, to entertain myself, I took out details that were kind of important to the plot: like the fact that Vic would not pay $2900 to see Sting--but she might pay it for a kidney. (As in transplant, not as in entree.)
My original entry title was STING IS STUNG. I changed it to STING is XXX (the XXX not meaning "triple-x" but to indicate heavy editing.)
And now---Trudie Styler tells Howard Stern that she and Sting are swingers and lead a very Euro-rock n roll lifestyle--complete with threesomes & other women.
I don't know what to make of this. Where does this leave my Sting-Bono-me threesome? Would Trudie have to come too?
If I had a husband and we went to a Swingers Club, would we have a chance with Sting and Trudie, or would we end up with the manager of a Brooklyn bodega and his nail technician wife?
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| My First Fic |
[25 Mar 2004|01:56pm] |
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accomplished |
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Duran Duran DECADE |
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Here's my first fan-fic. Inspired by Victoria's Lyric-inspiration contest.
Lyric Inspiration:
Many times I've lied, and many times I've listened
And many times I've wondered how much there is to know
"Over the Hills and Far Away" - Led Zeppelin
Surrender
by fleurdeleo
Boromir noticed the silence on the ninth night of his journey. Not the forest’s silence, because the wind rustled the leaves and the animals called and cried around him. The fire within the circle of rocks near where he lay snapped and sparked. Occupied with his basic needs for warmth and light, and always focused on battles and the strategies in his head, he had never noticed the sound of a campfire.
The silence was in him, and it had come after a fierce struggle, the way stillness follows the final clang and slide of sword on sword. He had surrendered. To save his sanity (and, he admitted, his pride, for turning back to face his father and his brother was unthinkable), he had abandoned his hand-drawn maps and the cryptic passages copied from ancient texts. Then, he laid down his strongest weapon: the force of his own will. If desire and drive alone counted, he would have cut down every tree and dug through each mountain in Middle Earth to get to Rivendell. But on the ninth day, driving his horse headlong to nowhere, with every beat of his heart he heard the wind cry, “you will fail.”
He closed his eyes, and the fire’s warmth seemed stronger on his face. An illusion, he knew, but for once he didn’t analyze and dismiss the sensation. He thought of his brother, and his heart ached with regret and affection. This journey belonged to Faramir; in every way, he was more suited to the task. This was far from the first time that Boromir won a battle only to realize that his brother might have done it better. In countless ways, his brother was the worthier man; and the only two people who did not see this were his father and Faramir. Boromir accepted this without bitterness, knowing full well that he, himself, would never change—any more than Theoden’s horses would slow their pace in deference to any creature.
Tonight, near the glow and the music of the fire, Boromir broke the new silence in his heart with two words: words that he had not used since before he could remember. He did not know to whom he spoke, but finally he whispered, “help me,” before he slept at last.
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fleurdeleo's journal