Feather Black

[third man girl]

(can you draw me a map? I get lost easily)

Oh, don't ask me to do that North/South thing. I'm FEMALE for God's sake.

Keep the sun on your back, and the moss on the left side of the trees. Look for a garden with three trees, one nest, several batboxes. Stop flapping your wings and LAND GENTLY.

Don't worry about the bats - they're guaranteed rabies-free

Third Man Girl

 

[third man girl]

I didn't have a notebook handy to write them down

Most of my thoughts come to me at inconvenient moments. When I’m driving. Or when I’m in the shower. But I’d better not mention the shower again.

But, hey, it certainly was nice spending the night with you.

shhhhhhhhh! The Others might be listening

I wrote it in, like, five minutes tops.

Show-off

They're probably thinking, "Why don't they just get a room?"

Answer A: They’re voyeurs. They’re loving it

Answer B: Swoon

You say 'was.' Is it not there anymore?

I hope it will be there for ever. But I’m not there anymore I live closer to the sea now, a few miles south of Glasgow, on the mainland, opposite the island of Arran. Arran is probably only a speck on your map, if it’s there at all. Its outline is called the Sleeping Warrior, because the silhouette looks like a warrior lying with his armour on. Whoops. Rambling again . . .

I do like the accent Scots have when they talk. If I heard you reading one of your poems, I'd probably just dissolve into goosh.

Oh. You men. You’re so messy
I suppose it’s down to preference, but I’m not too crazy about the West of Scotland accent. I prefer the East Coast accent where there’s more ‘lilt’.

I love dark hair and green eyes.

You live on the wrong side of the world. You know that, don’t you?

Third Man Girl

 

[RaVeN]

So, one minute you're telling us you take pot shots at the birds with a 'BB' gun (whatever that is - Boys' Brigade, Big B*gger, Bird Blaster?), and now you're telling us you feed them.

Are you a reformed character, RaVeN?

Third Man Girl

I should refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I may be tempted to look for your reply and get nauseaus from reading The Goosh Swapping Chronicles by mistake

The BB gun event in question was 35+ years ago. Once upon a time I used to wet the bed and listen to Barry Manilow music but thank God I've changed over the years. I no longer listen to Barry

RaVeN

 

[tugger]

Most of my thoughts come to me at inconvenient moments. When I’m driving. Or when I’m in the shower. But I’d better not mention the shower again.

No, that's quite all right. Mention shower as much as you'd like. I have no problems with you mentioning the shower. Please. Mention it.

shhhhhhhhh! The Others might be listening

Seriously, they must be getting quite tired of us by now. Maybe, we should just start a TMG/tugger thread where we could be off by ourselves and others could just ingnore us and not have to be exposed to our "long-distance bump and grind" as Raven so astutely called it.

Show-off

I wasn't trying to brag. Just to express how your words can inspire me.

I hope it will be there for ever. But I’m not there anymore I live closer to the sea now, a few miles south of Glasgow, on the mainland, opposite the island of Arran. Arran is probably only a speck on your map, if it’s there at all. Its outline is called the Sleeping Warrior, because the silhouette looks like a warrior lying with his armour on. Whoops. Rambling again . . .

What caused you to move? Do like living where you do? If you could live anywhere in the world, where do you think you'd prefer to live?

I live by a small lake nestled among the bluffs just north of the Missouri River. It is very green, very hilly, with tons and tons of trees.

I suppose it’s down to preference, but I’m not too crazy about the West of Scotland accent. I prefer the East Coast accent where there’s more ‘lilt’.

No, trust me, I would be enthralled.

 

[third man girl]

If you could live anywhere in the world, where do you think you'd prefer to live?

This required serious thought.

In a Japanese Temple, within sight of Mount Fuji.

Deep below the Colosseum, only to emerge at night, to play in the arches when the tourists have vanished.

In a shack on Cold Mountain – snow-deep in wintertime.

Or, in a hidden clearing in a forest, in a tiny tent, with only a single sleeping-bag and you, near a small lake nestled among the bluffs just north of the Missouri River.

Third Man Girl