Humpin' Pumpkin

It's Halloween! Woo and yay. I've cut my pumpkins. They look a tad ragged but I did what I could with the resources I had: 1 large spoon, 1 too big knife. Today was crazy. I got up before 8, made it into my history class on time and remained pretty damn happy until the tiredness crept in. All of this done after drinking a fair amount of rum last night. Which means, boys and girls, that your good friend Catherine had her first night out and didn't end up with a depressing hangover! Therefore, I should only get drunk in the company of guys, only way to not wake up miserable. It was actually pretty nice having a night out and being the only girl there. I don't know the name of the other girl who was there so I'm not counting her (sorry no-name!). I miss male company. All my male friends were from high school and I don't see them often and some of them are better friends with my ex anyway. So it was great, despite the nose crushing hugs and excessive pushing. All in all pretty good day today. Now to ruin it with an essay I have to write! Because I'm too lazy to make this a proper post have some writing.

Goodbye to You

Damn. This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm not really sure where I should even begin. You know, daft as it sounds, I really did the whole plan everything you want to say montage in the mirror only without the editing to make it interesting. I can't remember a damn word now. Probably for the best though. Less likely to attack you with barrage of over-used clichés. I'll get to the point, Rambling like this isn't fair to you.

Things haven't been going so well with us lately, you must have noticed. It's my fault. I'm never around anymore. I've left you alone for days without warning and I feel awful for doing it. It's selfish and cruel and I wish there was an easier way to do this. But I'm leaving. I can't go on living this way, with you.

I've been seeing this girl for a while now. Claire. You met her at New Year. Tall, blonde, makes jewellery. You remember. Me and Claire, we hit it off. We kept bumping into each other after the party and things just went on from there. I wasn't planning this and I never ever meant to hurt you. Sometime these things happen organically, there's no helping them.

She has this flat across town. Big loft conversion with a view of the city. You'd like it. She's asked me to move in with her. I really want to. I think I'm in love with her. in fact, I'm fairly certain I am.

Don't go, baby. Stay here and let me finish, please. I want you to know that I'll never forget you. We had some good times together, didn't we. I know you'll find the right person one day and I hope you'll be happy. I can't give you everything you deserve. Not anymore. I always cared about you, don't ever doubt that. You will always mean something special to me.

So this is goodbye. No, get off me. You won't change anything by doing that. I've tried my hardest to make it work but her landlord was adamant about it. Under no circumstances could I move in with Claire and take you with me. I'm sorry. I hope they take good care of you, puss, and find you a loving home.

Goodbye.

Pro-tip while you may have a good idea whilst drunk don't expect your notes to be legible when you wake up the next morning. I had the following written on the back of a History handout: Magicbox, music's the secret to orgasms! So um yeah.

I have a magic music box.

You won't believe me. I don't care.

I found it at a car boot sale in amongst old costume jewellery and yellowing books. It's the colour of twilight and on the lid there's the outline of where the name of its previous owner had been fixed onto the wood. Ophelia. Only the O is clear, bright against the faded paint of the rest of the box. The 'phelia can only be seen if you look long enough. On the bottom a love heart is carved in the wood and coloured a rusty red. There's a hole in the back for the key that winds the music player. I haven't found the actual player yet. There's a false bottom with a ribbon to pull it up. It has to be in there but at some point the bottom's been nailed down and I don't want to break it for fear it loses its power.

I used it to store my journal before I knew what it was capable of. The woman who sold it to me never mentioned the music player, nor was there a key included. Three months after I bought it I found an envelope taped to my door, addressed to 'that nice boy with too much hair'. Inside was the key on a chain. I wear it round my neck. There was a note attached telling me that music was connected to the soul. That was all. I thought nothing of it until a week later when the power went out and the flat upstairs had a candle-lit party. With the CD player out and none of us having any musical talent I brought along my box and wound it up for the first time.

The music my box can play is something you've never really heard before. It plays the music of dreams. Far from the tinkling of your average music box, mine plays proper tunes. Fully orchestrated. It never plays the same song twice. That night it played music to dance too. Music that makes you feel invincible. I met my girl at that party. We danced all night and laughed til morning.

I'll tell you a secret, my music box is better than sex.

My girl winds it herself one night and lies across my bed, her cigarette hanging languidly from her soft lips. I sit on the floor, her head hanging off the end of the bed resting on my shoulder. The song begins with the first twinges of strings and soft taps of the percussion warming up. The guitars begin strong and steady building up as the rest of the band join in. The vocals are stage whispers bringing goosebumps to the back of my neck, the strings cause that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that softens her agate eyes as she looks up at me. The music swells, her body tenses and the volume increases. I'm dimly aware of my roommate banging on the wall for quiet but we're too far gone to care. The voices are practically shouting now, the strings are sweeping, one lone violin can be heard separate from the rest just for a moment, carried away with its own music making. My girl gives a shudder and the music climaxes before winding down, each instrument dropping out of the melody until only there's only a distant twinkling of chimes. Gently I move over to the desk and wind the box again. She wriggles a little and smiles at me as I lie beside her. I kiss her as the soft piano piece floats round the room. She cuddles into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. The smell of her skin fills my head. We fall asleep where we lie as the music continues to play, completely content.