I'm not wearing any.

Me either.

Mine are gray and black stripes. If I had to do it over again, I'd make them black and gray stripes.

Fleshy coloured.

Black. That way, if you get something on your hands you can wipe them on your socks and no one will know.

Naked feet, here.

Black. That way, if you get something on your hands you can wipe them on your socks and no one will know.

No powdered sugar doughnuts for you...

Nekkid feet here

White socks, Starter running shoes.

I'd have seen the dog about a man.

My socks are black, with bright orange on the toes and heels. You know, so I look outwardly conformist (I'm at work), but am a rebel under the surface.

I wouldn't change anything, because the new choice I make would probably be hust as bad as the original one. C'est la vie.

Gray argyles.

I'd have seen the dog about a man.
posted by paulsc 17 October | 17:51

I'm really confused. Do you mean you'd put shit into your ass?

I'm actually wearing gray and black striped socks right now. They're some of my favorites, even though they have a medium-sized cat-bite-hole near the cuff.

Depends on how far back. If earlier in my lifetime, up to 25 years, navy, before that, white. But if I'm going back to, say, prevent Lincoln's Assasination, I'm not wearing any artificial fibers, so brown socks held up with little garters that attach at the knee.

I like funky socks, always. I shop in the girls department. Back in the day I was cool, I was even wearing two different socks. Nobody noticed (neither the socks, nor my coolness). Sad.

Oh, and I really really like the socks with separate toes!

I would be wearing matching socks, because I would have known not to launder my last matching pair!

(that's how I know this whole "missing song" phenomenon is real - I often buy whole bags of matching socks. Soon enough, there's only one from each bag left).

Bare feetses and I wouldn't change a thing!

To hell with the socks. I would sit on the subway next to Kristine for 15 more seconds before getting off the train that day. (I am such an idiot.) I can picture her still, framed between the glass and the chrome handrest--all blonde and beautiful, still not comfortable in the power suit she no doubt wears as a uniform these days. I'd let her down by getting up.

Why hadn't I crossed the room to her earlier that morning? Why did the sunlight have to be so perfect through the window behind her? I swear I would have gotten up if she wasn't such a pretty picture. I'd have kneeled in front of her and pressed my nakedness close and really held her. Let her feel my heart beat through my tongue.

"I can't believe I ever woke up without her here before"? Fuck. To return to the instant that line entered my head--our first morning together after our first night together--to trap it, loop it, and live there... we wouldn't need socks, bigmusic! Sweaty-nude beneath the duvet, trying hard as hell to be "until death separates," we wouldn't need clothes or food or the outside world. We wouldn't need anything but the certainty of the rightness of that moment. And we had it. Had it 'til it left for someone worthy of its wonder, someone who can sit still while the subway pulls into the station, refusing to move until he must: car stopped, doors halfway to closed, fingers interlaced with hers 'til his outstretched arm can reach back no further and it SNAPS! through the exit to join him on the platform where he watches her pull away, a smile riding her lips instead of disappointment.

Beautiful!

ohhh! dobbs....

who are you?

I am weeping. Seriously.