Pistol (aka Greg can't sleep)

So the past few blogs have either been songs, made allusions to songs, or have found their inspiration in a song . . . this one is the latter.

Dustin Kensrue is the source for this early morning hour blog title, and I've been playing "Pistol" over and over in my head for bit this past week or so. My buddy Asher loves this song, as does his wife, Dayna . . . and well they should, cuz it's theirs.

I love how you curse when I wake you up
And sweetly demand that I fill your cup
The sight of your cool gunpowder stare
Honey, you lay me bare

It's fast becoming one of my favorite songs as well, because, well, to me anyway, it's just REAL. I grow a bit weary of love songs that paint an accurate picture perhaps of our dream, but not of our reality.

Call me wierd, but I kinda love the quirky things about people that make them unique, that make them human. And as much as I long to be an Aragorn or a William Wallace, the truth is that my breath smells awful in the morning, it smells when I shit, and I think that if I ever do get married, I will probably hog the bed.

I will make many mistakes, not because I want to, but because I am stubborn and proud and sometimes rather stupid.

I laugh too loud in public for the comfort of most people who are with me. And this does not bother me. The way my feet smell after work DOES, however, and I will try to remedy that as soon as I come home. I promise you this.

You're the girl of my dreams
And a pistol it seems
But you shoot me straight and true
Honey, I'll take my chances
Oh, I lay all my money on you.

As for my unfortunate wife . . . well, I can hardly expect her to be anything but human if I'm going to embrace it myself, right?

We will misunderstand each other, to be sure, but I like to believe that at the end of the day, we'll love each other too much to stay mad.

There will be days when we look at each other and say, "What the hell? I married YOU?" . . . but those days will be few and far between, and all the days in between them will be marked with moments where I pinch myself, because I can't believe I get to take part in this story.

I won't ever get mad about burnt food.
I won't forget anniversaries or birthdays or the time we first met or our first kiss.
I will forget where my keys are. Many times a day.
I will not always remember perfectly whether or not the dishes are self cleaning.
I will say, "I love you" more often than not.
I will back that up with actions of love.

I will fart. Often. It's my shitty digestive system (no pun intended).

I will laugh as we grow old together.

And I will always be there.

See, to me, that's the beauty of Asher and Dayna . . . they're so human, so real . . . and it's so beautiful to see them together. I'm sure if they were to read this, they wouldn't think it was sucha biggie, and perhaps they'd scratch their heads and wonder if I have a different Asher and Dayna in mind . . .

Whatever it is that they have, I want that. And whatever it takes for me to get there, I'm going to do it.

It'd be worth it.

K . . . 3 am . . . time to sleep maybe?