saturday and rain

I keep wondering when my life will begin, again.

listening to Mandy Moore on the Tangled soundtrack.

pondering what I will write this morning and can’t decide if I want to write about today will it be the superhero, the fantasy  or Belle?

still maybe a fairy tale.

thunder came in the morning rolling across the steel grey clouds waking the man as he slept in his big empty bed. He was a big man so the big bed didn’t seem so empty except on mornings like this. Waking from a dream which may well have been better than his own reality, the man stirs to look out the window at the rain, the sound surrounding him as the warm of his blankets slips away with the knowledge and the dread that he must get up and eat. There is probably a run to the bathroom in there as well, so driven, he leaves his bed and goes out into the weather hat in hand.

birds need seed, cat wants a treat, Oatmeal hot and ready with hersheys special dark chocolate morsels, now warm and sticking to his ribs he sits down at his netbook and begins to type.

I have got a dream, not necessarily a concert pianist but better than having an island and piles of money having a published books and a guest spot on Castle and a date with Rapunzel would boost my ego immensely.