When You're Gone

PHOTO: A film clip image
I found in Puymirol, France

He stroked her with both hands-a long relishing stroke that began at her bound wrists, slid down over her arms, breasts, and loins, and became a voluptuous tickling between her legs. He repeated the exciting stroke again and again, his hands hot and sharp-nailed, and then, when ready-ready-more-than-ready, he slipped a hand under her buttocks, raised them, lodges his hardness against her, and pushed it powerfully in.
-Ira Levin (b. Aug 27 1929, d. Nov 12 2007)
in his book "Rosemary's Baby"

When I am on vacation I have my fascination for taking pictures. I also try to search for new things like 'a new song' or 'a new book'. While in Europe last month I discovered a few new songs and here is one of them that I am featuring on the blog today. It was heard on the EUROPA FM channel. It is called 'When You're Gone' by Avril Lavigne. I adore her talent.

PHOTO: Avril Lavigne
It is quite an amazing song (maybe you already know of it). I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

Before you CLICK the link to watch and listen to the music video, please read the lyrics:

"When You're Gone"

I always needed time on my own
I never thought I'd need you there when I cry
And the days feel like years when I'm alone
And the bed where you lie is made up on your side

When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now
[Chorus]
When you're gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you
When you're gone
The face I came to know is missing too
When you're gone
The words I need to hear to always get me through the day and make it ok
I miss you

I've never felt this way before
Everything that I do reminds me of you
And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor
And they smell just like you, I love the things that you do

When you walk away I count the steps that you take
Do you see how much I need you right now
[Chorus]
We were made for each other
Out here forever
I know we were, yeah
All I ever wanted was for you to know
Everything I'd do, I'd give my heart and soul
I can hardly breathe I need to feel you here with me, yeah

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=when%20you're%20gone%2C%20avril%20lavigne&docid=812840845422&mid=C14426C0291CD4AF83FDC14426C0291CD4AF83FD&FORM=VIVR23

Twenty-five years ago today:

June 13, 1984,
Wednesday

It hadn't dawned on me until just this evening but Chris Cordellos got caught in his own lie. I telephoned him at the Coast Guard Base to tell him the amount of his new telephone bill. He was actually 'at the Base'. Yes, I just realized. It was strange.
"Did you call the house?" Chris asked.
"No," I replied, acting dumb at the time. (I was actually dumb.)
"Good that you didn't because Barb is there and I know you'll both gossip about me," Chris said.

Oh well. I am understanding. Chris is probably low on funds and that is why he didn't want to come down to visit. He could have (should have) explained. What the heck. He does not need to give me an excuse for every decision he makes.

I went to the Sperm Bank and talked to Carol, the girl who works there who is from back East (Massachusetts, I think). She is really nice and kind of cute. I like her. I sort of asked her out for dinner but she gave some flimsy excuse of having to work late for some seminar deal. I didn't push it. Some guys meet girls in school or a bar. I meet them at a Sperm Bank. Hilarious.

PHOTO: Ashley M Armijo, 1984

I did not even bike ride today. I retrieved my mail that had accumulated at the Solomon Lane townhouse where John and Sherri were still living. When I got to mom and dad's I 'porked out' on mom's BBQ chicken. I ordered some clothes at fifty-percent off from the latest International Male catalog. I read some of my ESQUIRE and BICYCLING magazines. Then I just lounged about with the television for company.

I have not called on Frank Vasconcellos about the "Streets of Fire" movie (starring Michael Pare, Diane Lane and Willem Dafoe). It's just as well. He has not telephoned me either.

The interesting article this month was found in ESQUIRE magazine. It was titled "Carnal College" and went on to explain the challenge for college students to ultimately write a paper for themselves (not for the teacher, a course or a grade). The article suggested a student write their own 'sexual autobiography'. I laughed as my journal is an A plus (and then some) in that respect.

I showed my office coworkers the photographs of my niece, Ashley. They loved them.

My brother, John, is a baseball card fanatic. He is an avid collector now.