aoife

I am leaving for Nashville in the morning.

I love fairly spontaneous road trips. One of my good friends from school (whom I recently learned has an anonymous SG account. come out and plaaaayyy, Greg....) lives in Nashville, and I've been wanting to go see him for ages now. And right now there's nothing in my way, so I'm going.

I would have LIKED to get some time in with the boy this weekend, but he works, is tired, blahblahblah I know the drill. This time I'm not doing the "he doesn't like me" freakout. Instead, it's just that little disappointment of not being able to see enough of him. Which I suppose is cool in some ways, because it gives me something to look forward to upon my return, rather than the usual downer of leaving somewhere fun and a good friend to return to my fairly solitary existence.

But damnit, as my buddy punt said, "I'm a woman with needs!"

Heh.

So I'm watching The Thing Called Love. I wonder if I should find a tall building in Nashville and scream "Look out, Music City, because I'm here now....

and I'm leaving in five days."

Oh well.

So I'm packing my snakeskin pumps and cowboy boots and leopard-print scarf, red lipstick and tight knee skirts and jeans and sweaters, the new John Doe CD and Neko Case and lots and lots of Lucero, my notebook and tape recorder and money for coffee and beer, and going to Tennessee to find the ghost of Elvis and Johnny Cash.