JAZZ HAS MY HEART

I don't even know this girl. I've met her a few times at her shows. I don't know her.

I want to. I want to so bad. Her pictures make my heart drop to the bottom. She's so cool, it kills me. Effortlessly, she's got me. I don't even know how to correctly write this. I mean, I think I told her I was in love with her the other night. Her reply was, "don't say shit like that." :) I smiled for that was the best reply I could have heard from such a ridiculous claim. However, I believe it to be true. I'm really not sure. I'm crazy. I have so many flights of fancy that it drives me wild. I'm a hurricane. A tropical depression to be reckoned with. So if you like Pina Colada's and soft summer rain, I just might be your flame. I mean if we can swap out those colada's for some whiskey, then it's on. Or shit, even some black coffee will do. It doesn't really matter, for all I want is you. I have to talk to her. I want to ask her a million questions. I want to play with her hair, put feathers in my mine and war paint on my face. I want to gaze into those big bonny eyes and get lost forever, or at least for the moment. I could live a lifetime in my mind.

Are you cuckoo for cocoa pebbles? I'm surely cuckoo for you…

It was a rainy afternoon in Seattle when I first stumbled upon "BUD'S OLD JAZZ RECORDS." The scent in the air was old, dusty, and fantastic. Even my Grammie's apple pie's had never smelled so sweet. I got lost in that world for hours, which in turn got lost in my soul for my lifetime. Old jazz records make my heart swell, and young Jazz singers make it explode with fervor. This girl, that I don't even know, has got me. What she will do with this, I have no idea. Just to know that she exists is quite the thrill…