SAGES LOG: Still Musing
Gambit proves himself to have quite a one-track mind when some things are concerned.
I ain't never been the kind of man to get wrapped around anybody's finger. I always been like the breeze; I come outta nowhere, when I want, and I leave when I want, and you're lucky if I leave my smell on the pillows to remember me by. That's the way it's always been, and the girls, they understood. Don't cage the wind, and you don't cage me. C'est la vie.
Except she don't follow directions so well, when she gets something into her head. Two of a kind, that way, I guess, me and her. The funny thing was it was real subtle, how I didn't realize how tight she got me wound up until--just the other day, really--she's standing in the kitchen and she's saying, "Remy, couldja come.." and I'm there before 'here' is out of her mouth wondering why the hell I moved in the first place.
I tried to leave a coupla times, but it never really stuck. I'd get ten steps from the mansion--ten miles, ten steps, it was always the same--and I'd just stop, half of me wanting to go, go, get out, and the other half of me already missing being there. Wrapped so tight around her damn finger I'm surprised she ain't losing circulation.
The funniest thing is when we fight. I mean, it ain't funny when it's happening, but looking back on it, always find myself boggled outta my mind. She and I we, get to yelling lots, and we go off to our own corners to lick our wounds when it's all done. Before, I woulda just stormed off, taken the bike out 'til it wouldn't go no more and never come back. But that ain't how it works now. Now, I go find someplace empty and I curl up in a ball and cry like a brokenhearted schoolboy. Because that's just what I am, see, brokenhearted. It's ridiculous.
I shoulda got out while the getting was good. I should still go. But I won't, I know I won't. I'll stay right here and spaniel for her be here for all the ups and downs I ran out on before.
Wrapped too tight around her finger to be anywhere else.
I ain't never been the kind of man to get wrapped around anybody's finger. I always been like the breeze; I come outta nowhere, when I want, and I leave when I want, and you're lucky if I leave my smell on the pillows to remember me by. That's the way it's always been, and the girls, they understood. Don't cage the wind, and you don't cage me. C'est la vie.
Except she don't follow directions so well, when she gets something into her head. Two of a kind, that way, I guess, me and her. The funny thing was it was real subtle, how I didn't realize how tight she got me wound up until--just the other day, really--she's standing in the kitchen and she's saying, "Remy, couldja come.." and I'm there before 'here' is out of her mouth wondering why the hell I moved in the first place.
I tried to leave a coupla times, but it never really stuck. I'd get ten steps from the mansion--ten miles, ten steps, it was always the same--and I'd just stop, half of me wanting to go, go, get out, and the other half of me already missing being there. Wrapped so tight around her damn finger I'm surprised she ain't losing circulation.
The funniest thing is when we fight. I mean, it ain't funny when it's happening, but looking back on it, always find myself boggled outta my mind. She and I we, get to yelling lots, and we go off to our own corners to lick our wounds when it's all done. Before, I woulda just stormed off, taken the bike out 'til it wouldn't go no more and never come back. But that ain't how it works now. Now, I go find someplace empty and I curl up in a ball and cry like a brokenhearted schoolboy. Because that's just what I am, see, brokenhearted. It's ridiculous.
I shoulda got out while the getting was good. I should still go. But I won't, I know I won't. I'll stay right here and spaniel for her be here for all the ups and downs I ran out on before.
Wrapped too tight around her finger to be anywhere else.