Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. Come now all you cinephiles! In what film can you hear today’s title spoken? I’ll give you a hint. There’s a 2 in it. Yes! That’s it. Fair warning about the link – not for the sqeamish.
What do you think? I’m thinkin’ I’d like Uma Thurman to play me in the Life of Girlie movie. She’s cool, she’s tough, can take care of herself, delicate, she’s not to be underestimated (but is). And…we never tire of watching her dance with John.
Tell me, why is it, that when we least expect it, lines from movies catch in our brain matter like lint on velcro? I had no idea Kill Bill 2 was on TV last Monday. Channel surfing, I stumbled on it by accident. Had I known it was playing, I would have watched it from the beginning.
It’d already run halfway through by the time I clicked over. Watching the fight scene between Daryl Hannah’s Elle Driver and Uma’s Beatrix Kiddo, well, it was that one line that almost, I said almost, had me sitting at my laptop writing.
There was some reason, made up no doubt, that I decided to do something else. Stupid. Destructive. Stupid. Why, when the opportunity is so rare these days, would I not attempt to write something. Anything! I’ve been in a hole. A black hole. One so deep and wide, it no longer is a hole. It’s everything. And I can’t get out of it.
For awhile, the TToT blog hop was the lifeboat, the life jacket that kept me afloat. Kept me in the game, swinging one more time. Alas, even that has been left by the side of the road, a crumpled paper bag weighted by the discards of a dulling imagination.
Along comes Six Sentence Thursday,another buoy bobbing up and down in the bottomless darkness. Hosted by our very own Ivywalker, it was an enjoyable challenge the 2 or 3? times I particpated. And here I sit. Wednesday night wondering why I cannot think of 6 simple sentences for this week’s word …*sigh*
“Perfect” she said, her voice as silky as the garment in her hand. I’ll take it and, if you please, wrap it in the lilac tissue paper and tie the bow…. like this – she took the spool of satin from the young shopkeeper and confidently began to weave a bow in an elaborately intricate design. Gently reaching to take the half tied bow out of her hands, hoping to be able to complete what she had started, he asked, “for someone special?” Eyes gleaming, she shook her head.
Pushing open the creaky front door of her favorite vintage shop, one of many eclectic, small businesses lining this quaint, cobblestoned alley, she stepped out into the October afternoon face turned up to an autumn sun ablaze in a cloudless sky, the air so crisp, so clear, she couldn’t inhale it deeply enough. She walked deliberately, slowly, the hint of a smile creasing her face as she mentally marked this day, the day she was brought into the world, and all things considered, found it most fitting that today would also mark the day she left it…