Total Babe!

Soooo, like, wow!  I've totally me the love of my life and I'm only 23!

She was in a dream I had when I was seven and I touched a guitar for the first time.  I touched it in my sleep by accident, or at least that's what I told Mom when she asked me what I was doing.  We were at the outdoor market and I was sleepwalking, like I used to do before I discovered wakewalking, and as we passed the old Indian Guru's Cheap Genuine Antiques and Craft Stall my hand brushed against an old beat-up acoustic number that the old Indian Guru told me belonged to George Harrison McCallous, who was a guitar player in a British band in the late sixties that wasn't the Beatles, but had the Beatles open for them once in 1961.  And when my hand touched the guitar, and then when I tripped and fell on it and smashed it to pieces, my eyes were closed even more and my sleep became deeper and a winged guitar, which was my CACGSG-ETK-01 (Custom Awful Cherry Gibson Sweetley Guitar-Extra Tone Knob-01) alit from heaven and appeared to me and opened its mouth and said that I was its destiny, and told me that its name was Cathy G. Etkoi and that one day we would meet and forge a future of legend together.

Well, if I hadn't been just standing in front of an eleven-foot tall amplifier with the volume all the way up and those twin-p90s nervously chain smoking, when she walked in, and if I hadn't been feeling a little dizzy from the noise vibrations and trying to keep the blood that was flowing out of my ears off of my chucks, because I've got them just like I want them and don't want to muck them up any more, when she walked in, I probably would have been absolutely stunned and fallen to a knee and asked her to marry me just right then and there.  I'm glad I didn't, because I don't like to lose my cool in front of Leg's or Tommy, so I just babbled a few things and I might have drooled a bit, and I got some blood on my chucks anyway but it's okay because I've gotten used to it now and it makes me look a little more badass, even Tommy thinks so.  She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, and I've seen at least a dozen, but even when we're the most famous and successful band in the world and of all time, and we've played shows to thousands of millions of screaming women, I know from the top to the bottom of my heart that I'll never meet or love anybody else except for her.  And we've only just met!  And it's meant to be!  In my dream, my guitar told me that it's name was Cathy G. Etkoi, and this girl's name is Atalanta Q. Footrace, and while there's really nothering in common between the two Etkoi and Footrace both have the same number of syllables and a Q looks a little like a G.

So I've fallen in love with Atalanta at first sight, and I know in my heart that one day we'll be together forever, and I was about to tell her all of this as soon as I saw her and she walked into the coffee shop where I was writing and brainstorming (they don't like it when I bring my work with me, but I buy a coffee so they can't kick me out),  And Tommy works there too, as a barista, but then she went up to Tommy and kissed him!   Atalanta is Tommy's girlfriend!  And then everything made sense, because before, when the band would be together, like if we're practicing, or stargazing, or taking cooking classes (that's where we met Evelyn & Daniel), I thought Tommy would be talking about Atlanta the city, and I thought he would be sharing deep and philosophical insights into the music of the Allman Brothers, which are from the panhandle of Florida, or maybe R.E.M. or the B-52s, which are both from Athens, in Georgia, and Atlanta is the predominate commercial hub for this rich and significant musical vein.  Nope, turns out the entire time he would be talking about how much he loved his girlfriend!  Who knew?

So now I don't know what I'm going to do, because fate and the space-alien-gods of all time have decreed that I'm supposed to be with her, with Atalanta, and I think this is clearly obvious.  But, Tommy thinks it's him that's supposed to be with her, "or whatever."  That's what he even said.  Oh yeah!  I almost forgot, when she heard me playing my guitar and I told her Tommy and I are in a band, she said she's always wanted to sing, and I told Tommy that I thought it was a bad idea, but of course he thinks it's a great idea because then he'd be able to concentrate on his guitar playing, and then we argued over it and I bought an herbal tea and didn't even tip him this time because I was too busy storming out.  Chamomile is a fine herbal tea which has several healing properties, including stress reduction, and makes a fine digestive aid, although it can potentially make you sleepy.  Atalanta must have the voice of an angel, the most elegant and glorious aria that any unsuspecting mortal has ever had the exclusive and divine privilege of ever hearing.  She also likes the lyrics I was working on, she caught a glimpse of them as I was flinging my journal shut in frustration, to a song I wrote three years ago called, "Frogs Make Funny Friends and Always Return What They Borrow," and when she told me that I knew we'd click and that upset Tommy.  What am I going to do?  She's already tearing us apart, and I don't even know if she's a good singer!  But she has to be, she's so perfect.  I could go on and on about her, I really could, and my heart flutters in a weird way when I think that I'll be seeing her tomorrow at practice.  It flutters in the same way that it does when I drink too much coffee, or when I have a sudden empathic connection to the guy with green glasses and he's in a speed trance.  I want to write about her, I want the whole world to know how I feel about her!  I want everybody to know excepts Tommy, of course.  I want the whole world to know how glorious she is, except Tommy, of course.  I don't want him to know how I feel, because it could severely damage our business relationship.  I could go on and on about her though.  On and on.  And on, and on, and on.  But the chamomile's made me tired so I'm going to go to bed early.