It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.
When you're finished, post this little paragraph in your blog and see what your friends come up with.
(go on. i DARES ya!)(Cut and Pasted from B's blog)
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I remember that time we met in Rome, drank too much at lunchtime and spent the afternoon laughing at tourists on the Spanish Steps. I remember it because after we said good-bye, I tripped and broke one of the heels on my shoe so I had to walk back to my hotel barefoot.
Oh - that time on the Dover-Calais ferry when that guy pulled out a gun. I was so impressed when you rugby-tackled him to the ground, only to find out that it was just a replica and part of the evening's entertainment. He was so funny when he came around from his head knocking the ground so hard!
(this is fun!)
One time, I am pretty sure, I met 'B' on the same ferry.
I apologise for everything.
Now, I remember everything/nothing.
Well, sort of.
I remember washing the jeans in the picture and you then hanging them out to dry :)
i remember you dressing up as a tree for halloween, you won a prize. it was 1975.
Up for an interview once with Trousers on the Chair.
I left with a constant ringing in my ear that said " You have 42 days to return my lost sock".
I felt guilty.
I remember the one time we were truly happy together, Trousers, laughing to the point of tears, forcing dull tragedy from our shattered minds. I still crave that closeness, you know, and feel a sense of perfect loss when I consider the moment in a painful, hopeless passing. We were so young. (And, it would seem, gay.)
...so I had this idea that I was going to try and weave all these comments together by way of my reply and come up with some kind of coherent(ish) narrative.
Silly idea, that was...I was also going to say to charlotte, are you sure that's how it was? I thought we spent the afternoon laughing at Steps with the Spanish tourists...
b, that's just fantastic, as is merk's link in to it (as in an actual link not a html one).
Hi cow-herd and thank you for washing my jeans!
nmj, that would be the trousers trick or treat tree award then :)
zola, didn't we compromise and decide on 28 days instead?
tpe, would that I could still force dull tragedy from my shattered mind: that's maybe something to aim for this weekend if nothing else crops up. My word, life was so simple back then, was it you and I that danced in the dewy dawn in fields of daisies, in sockless feet?
you raised the bar pretty high at mine. i had to come up with something pretty good :)
ps merkin - heh :)
Thanks b :)
trews, i love 'sockless feet', & i can remember how fond you & tpe were of each other, he was at the halloween party too. dressed as a horse of course.
But why would a horse need to dress as a horse, NMJ? Doesn't make sense. No, I was dressed as Dorothy - just as Trousers wanted.
Trousers, hello. That was us, yes, with sockless feet (nice touch) and a youthful recklessness to gladden the heart.
This was (is) a grand idea, by the way, and I was going to put my effort onto my blog, in fact - but then kind of didn't. I suddenly (and completely) lost my nerve. Hoping you'll understand.
Next time, though, I'll make up something about sport and toughness and firm - strictly heterosexual - hugs in the shower. I'd blog that, easy.
Happy regards, Mr T.
TPE
(I was reading through your blog last night, by the way, and you've been busy. Some very, very beautiful writing, too. I'm still not sure I understand what this black (widget) box that everyone keeps mentioning is all about, though. Baffling stuff.)
Hmm. I seem to have become anonymous. Probably just as well, really, given the circumstances.
It was a dark and stormy night and you told me about how you came from outer space, and that we could no longer go on meeting inside this cupboard, and that as an alien your feelings for me were inappropriate as I was a tea cup.
nmj, sockless feet is a bit like "blindlessly" (erm, with some tweaking of context perhaps).
Yes, anonymous tpe was very cleverly dressed as a horse disguised as Dorothy (in fancy dress). Just as Trousers wanted - except I was called Shorts back in my younger days, and so as far as I recall we'd had to imagine what my older self might have wanted you to wear.
There was me thinking it was all so simple back then, but reading back what I've just written it was fabulously complicated....but things were simple enough to cope with how complicated it was.
Weren't they/wasn't it?
Oh, and I'm glad you've enjoyed some of my writings, tpe, thanking you kindly.
fire byrd, for goodness sake! You've completely missed the point - it was supposed to be fake memories, not real ones!
Oh, it has to be that swingers' night. No, not the first one when you got lashed (who wouldn't at their first swingers' night), but the third or fourth I should say. D'you remember? God, that was a riot. Did you ever find out he was a bloke?
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