“You can call me what you want, but my name is Veronica” A song I used to listen to.. sad but good.
I was waiting in line for some musicians to sign my new /cheapest CD of theirs I could find. I’m on a budget. And a guy asked me if I was in a relationship and asked me for a name. The woman behind me already knew my name and she later gave me some advice. You need a name for going out. Avaun used to change her name nightly when she went to the bars. She would fake an accent and make a new language up that she wounldn’t expect anyone to know. She had been married as well. She joked especially since we were the first in line, we were both irish festival virgins, and behind us were these preteens who were all oozing excitement about meeting a real musician. Due to moving she had followed the band from Richmond where they were founded to Pittsburgh where they were playing.
When asked by the musician what my name was.. I became Gio. Short for Giovanni.
I’m out for the night listening to celtic music. To the musician my name is Gio, short for Giovanni. I love the name and I look Italian to some. A wild name Gio the gypsy who may borrow the Irish steed for the night. I’ll bring it back when I’m not so busy running away to a land that I don’t know but it involves moonlight and trying to become part a wild audience brandishing lighters. I don’t drink, atleast much. I managed a little sip of whiskey. And my friends are having a hard time with breathing with the smokey area of a concert. The air was so heavy, she stated.
And yes lifes air is heavy. It’s heavy with memories. Included with those are those of 9/11 and the days that followed and the wars that followed.
When this war is done can we have a little peace” Woad warrior