Perfect.
it up and lose all the gothic eeriness, imbuing it instead with a shiny brightness. It's like the sisters went into Kate Bush's cobwebbed old mansion of a mind, opened all the curtains, dusted the furniture, mopped the floors, put some flowers out, and invited Cathy's ghost in for a nice cuppa tea and to dish about that nasty yet lovable Heathcliff from down the lane. I'm crazy about both versions, because they are each so distinctive, and each is somehow wonderfully archaic and contemporary at the same time. So without further ado, enjoy The Puppini Sisters singing Wuthering Heights. I so hope you like it as much as I do.
'Tis Valentine's Day! So, c'mon, give us a kiss and celebrate!
This is probably my favorite car I've ever had, and I have loved the cars I've had. (Incidentally this is not the actual car but mine looked just like it... I don't know who is in this car.) This beast got, like, 4 miles to the gallon and cost 35 bucks to fill up and I was filling up in the year 2000, so that was a lot. But I loved it and it was mine.
He was up at 6:30 in the morning washing this car in the garage in the dead of winter. I loved this car. In this car was the first (and only) accident I ever got in...with another car. (I've hit curbs and garbage cans causing major damage to my vehicles but only once had an accident with another car.) Some very very old man coming out of Sears on Freedom Blvd. ran in to me and Jenny Lloyd and Allison Lowery (whom we had illegally stuffed into the back where there was no seat). That was a bad day. My father (who is perfect) said that it could have happened to anyone, I just happened to be the one driving at the time. (He was right, by the way; that very very old man was nothing less then a hazard on the roads at night.)
only mine had a black bra, and so because it looked like a space shuttle I name him Rocket, my first car. It was not a fancy car; point of fact, it had zero interior upholstery, so when you rolled down the windows you could see the glass moving into the frame of the door. Also, the driver's seat would unexpectedly recline on its own, so we stuck a broom that reached from the back of the car and stuck pointedly into the drivers back making it feel like the driver was a spoiled princess sleeping on a mattress covered pea (and by pea I mean sharp stick. It never occurred to us at the time, but had I been rear ended I most certainly would have been kabobbed by this broom). This was aided in the fact that the car had no back seat, which aided the fact that the battery, located where the back seat should be, often came unattached or, in some extreme cases, caught fire. Either way, I had to pull over and operate. Despite its heavy smell of petrol, I loved this car. I remember driving to school that January 9th, 1996 and Joanie Pead was disgusted that I got anything I wanted--which we all know, just under true and everlasting love, envy is the most desired emotion by the high school student. Thanks, Dad.
How do you get two cars for one busted up car? You just can alright, don't judge us. And I did love those cars too. (Except I made Lindsay drive the Hyundai cause, come on! I feakin' loved that Cruiser. And don't worry, it's still in the family.)
Walking through a field with my little brother Seth
I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow.
For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels
had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground.
He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer.
Then we were on the roof of the lake.
The ice looked like a photograph of water.
Why he asked. Why did he shoot them.
I didn't know where I was going with this.
They were on his property, I said.
When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room.
Today I traded hellos with my neighbor.
Our voices hung close in the new acoustics.
A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling.
We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence.
But why were they on his property, he asked.
