The point, the point!

I met a girl today. Not to sound like a boor (see: vulgarian), but all else becomes academic in comparison. I hesitate to use words like visceral and coporeal, and I don't want to describe in overly flowery overtures, but I do want to pay lip (figurative) service to the actuality, as opposed to falling back to the stygian. And by stygian I mean words like facile, facsimile, and laconic. And by these I am simply describing academic more thoroughly (and, yeah, disparagingly). None of these words get to the point. In fact, the point of these words targets itself a bit south of the actual and initial point. I often run the risk of focusing on the functioning of words as opposed to their ability to get to the point. That's something I'm trying to get better at.

What is the point? I don't want to be dispassionate, but I also don't want to be melodramatic, a sensationalist, a ham. Forget the couching, Snog, get to the point, the point!

I met a girl today, and her name is Cindy. She's beautiful, but of course I'm going to say that. What makes this unique (because that feels like the most important thing, being a snowflake, but what purpose it really serves is helping me differentiate between this and other experiences; it helps the communication flow) is its turning quality. I saw her waiting for a subway train. The subterranean winds whirled her hair out like the swings at a carnival.

The look on her face was one of pleasant surprise. At what, I know not. But her surprise became consternation or puzzlement when she saw me standing there. I was hurled into my big coat, grey, scratchy, and tired. Her look drew me out. I said something, but I can't remember what. We ended up going for coffee, and then Chinese. She said I am Korean. I said she is Poly-nesian. Then we got more coffee. Don't ask me. Something about the city did it to us.

We ended up in an apartment. And, yes, we were meaning things, and sitting apart. She crossed her legs. She gave me a glass of water. The glass of it was cool on my fingers. I sipped it. We came together, for a moment, like my lips and the glass and the water. Open, sighing.

And then we said good-bye. She kissed my cheek. I smiled and touched hers. She took my hand and kissed my palm. I closed my fingers around her kiss and held it to my chest. I did not turn as I walked down the hall, as the elevator doors closed, as the night air kissed around my collar and the stars gazed down with silent, solemn peals.

Mwah, Snog.

WotB: Blend \Blend\, v. i. To mingle; to mix; to unite intimately; to pass or shade insensibly into each other, as colors.
WotB Quote: "There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality" -Irving.