(cut and paste isn't really typing)

[emchy]

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me.

It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.

When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your LJ and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.

Comments

[abostick59.livejournal.com]

You were nursing a drink in the Baccarat Bar on the casino floor of the Mirage in Las Vegas. I was walking from the poker room to the bank of elevators that would carry me up to my hotel room.

Our eyes met, locked for an instant. You smiled. I glanced down and saw the word "Poet" tattooed on your arm. I understood and nodded, and continued on my way.

[gordonzola.livejournal.com]

didn't I do this for you like a year ago? I told the whole story of your POET tattoo.

[cindymonkey.livejournal.com]

gak - i have been totally caught in repetitive meme-ing
are you sure you don't have another memory of something we didn't do?

[gordonzola.livejournal.com]

but i loved that comment. I don't think you appreciated it enough.

good old Lake Shore Drive...

[psybelle.livejournal.com]

Mmmmmn. I'm so glad I was able to convince you to try out the south side of the lake shore...

Junebugs, a late sunset, walking along that bike trail and playing with the willow branches... alternating between really silly conversation (how many of the constellations did we rename?) and just listening to the waves, the little critters, occasional cars going by.

And OMG the fireflies!!! There were so many, I thought it was the drugs at first... There's not much I miss about Milwaukee summers (humidity, alewives, mosquitoes...), but I'll always miss the fireflies.

[gordonzola.livejournal.com]

in fact, here it is again. I'm gonna go to sleep now. Hope your arm feels better.

[(Anonymous)]

The hour was late and the company was fierce; Deacon had been luring the lovelies throughout the night into the back of his Aston Martin for rides around the grounds. You emerged from the little two-seater slightly displaced. The wind had made the delicate lace of your veil tear away from the rim of the small hat I so painstakingly affixed some seven hours prior in our barely-there apartment. You'd said it would never hold. I asked you to trust me.

Your eyes shone with a fever that I hadn't seen in you since that night we first met and I knew... I knew that you were back. You rushed into my arms and reached up to tweak the moustache tips you loved to play with.

"You simply must go for a ride, darling!" you squealed at me with delight before you kissed me.

I still remember how sweet the night air smelled on your skin before I kissed your cheek and, chuckling, let you go to take a seat in the racecar.

My only real regret laying there in the grass, wrapped around the oak tree, was not being able to take you dancing like I promised.

Oopse

[lyricagent.livejournal.com]

That was mine. :)

I only now noticed I wasn't logged in.

HI :)

[moongirli.livejournal.com]

There was that time, when you were still living in Brighton, and we went out to Joe's Crab Shack to drink of the giant fishbowl drinks.

And they made us dance with coconut bras and hula skirts on. Then they gave us free "I got crabs" t-shirts.

[twogunmatilda.livejournal.com]

i'll never forget when you puked in the sewer.

[cindymonkey.livejournal.com]

heh - it was supposed to be fiction ;)
i think i know who this is...
am i right darling?