I Just Want a Little Magenta, is That Too Much to Ask For?

“Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing. It's ok though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation.. so when I meet someone who's an 8-color type.. I'm like, "hey girl, magenta!" and she's like, "oh, you mean purple!" and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, "no - I want magenta!"”

I know that I am supposed to be writing original prose on the good and bad of a new, exotic environment, but that's just good/sounds something like what has been floating around my mind for the past couple of weeks. Terribly pompous sounding when you read it, no? I was afraid of that...

I will most likely be hitchhiking to Montalcino to taste the best wines known to man this weekend, as no one wants to rent a car to my under 25 years of age self (I am pretty sure one place was willing to with a ridic bribe, but it could have been my poor Italian comprehension).

I won't do any hitchhiking after dark, I promise.