2009-09-18
Over easy yoke
People jogging should be morally obligated to write "Jogging" in big bold letters on the backs of their shirts. Is the woman "jogging" past my window with the stroller just jogging, or slowly running away from someone trying to steal her baby? This would be good for society to know. Maybe I could have helped.
2009-09-03
Two heads worse than one
Sarah and I decide to write a story together, January 30th, 2009. Our ideas (we didn't roll with any of them):
The tiny diamond around your pale freckled neck. Where’d it come from?
Japanese paper lanterns
K, so it’s a story.
About
A man
Who can only ever draw things with his eyes closed, with astounding accuracy, mind you.
He’s also a priest.
Protestant.
In the thirties.
And get this...
Wait it’s the twenties.
He
He falls in love with a cabaret dancer who comes to confess her sins which are numerous and terrible.
His name is Joaquin
He draws pictures of the women and, here’s the catch, he can only draw with his eyes closed.
Something like: He draws her (he’s never seen her) with his eyes closed and it turns out she’s beautiful.
Also, she is a bona fide angel.
Bona fide!
A grandmother, spicy, all out of legs. Sold the last pair. Used to work in hosiery at sears. She floats. And, as it turns out, she’s an angel...
Grandfather-aged man, second ww. Drinks gin, hidden in his left boot, which he keeps by the front door. His boot is more often off then on, his cup as often filled as emptied. Father of a goat, whom he had when he was married to an ogre of a woman.
It was a curse, that’s why he’s got the goat.
Field Coyote
Youth Subcultures in the praries spraypaint their wheat. See: Fruitloops.
Church Organs
Brass, expansiveness and the things that go on at night, keys.
Barnacles.
Pulling things out from under your skin.
The tiny diamond around your pale freckled neck. Where’d it come from?
Japanese paper lanterns
K, so it’s a story.
About
A man
Who can only ever draw things with his eyes closed, with astounding accuracy, mind you.
He’s also a priest.
Protestant.
In the thirties.
And get this...
Wait it’s the twenties.
He
He falls in love with a cabaret dancer who comes to confess her sins which are numerous and terrible.
His name is Joaquin
He draws pictures of the women and, here’s the catch, he can only draw with his eyes closed.
Something like: He draws her (he’s never seen her) with his eyes closed and it turns out she’s beautiful.
Also, she is a bona fide angel.
Bona fide!
A grandmother, spicy, all out of legs. Sold the last pair. Used to work in hosiery at sears. She floats. And, as it turns out, she’s an angel...
Grandfather-aged man, second ww. Drinks gin, hidden in his left boot, which he keeps by the front door. His boot is more often off then on, his cup as often filled as emptied. Father of a goat, whom he had when he was married to an ogre of a woman.
It was a curse, that’s why he’s got the goat.
Field Coyote
Youth Subcultures in the praries spraypaint their wheat. See: Fruitloops.
Church Organs
Brass, expansiveness and the things that go on at night, keys.
Barnacles.
Pulling things out from under your skin.
2009-08-10
I got myself a fortune cookie for each day of the week
Monday: Apparently, my graceful qualities make difficult things seem easy. Sounds more like a statement than a fortune, and not particularly true for myself, age 21. Perhaps it's in my future. If I had a wallet I'd save it in there for then, when (hopefully) it will be uncanny, too true.
2009-08-07
Conveniently, draft autosaved at 7:11 PM.
Plates and cups are big these days but they can't be that big, and even all you can eat closes before, or sometime not too late after midnight. Cigars don't really last all that much longer when you snip them in half and smoke twice. Hot water turns cold and rivers run dry (or flood). The biggest books have only one last page.
"Ah, all good things..." he said, only implying the rest, leaving unsaid, "...must come to an end." Whether referring to the plate of onion bhajias or whatever else, I couldn't agree more. But it's true about bad things too. All bad things do too. Come to an end, I mean. And so everything, especially comedy, especially tragedy, especially everything, has got to be about timing--the last of the zig-zagging five dub-yaws.
"Ah, all good things..." he said, only implying the rest, leaving unsaid, "...must come to an end." Whether referring to the plate of onion bhajias or whatever else, I couldn't agree more. But it's true about bad things too. All bad things do too. Come to an end, I mean. And so everything, especially comedy, especially tragedy, especially everything, has got to be about timing--the last of the zig-zagging five dub-yaws.
2009-07-12
Flatty
The voice inside my head speaks up (too late and completely condescending, as usual) and says, "Would you eat soup with a tire lever?" and responds, "No you wouldn't, would you?"
2009-07-10
2009-07-06
Good news in the globe and mail
Imagine the first moments of your life are a slide down your mother's pant leg, into a net created by her elastic bottomed sweats. For you, the birth canal is a 28" inseam longer than for most. Your proud dad, standing at the bottom of the stairs, sees it all happen through thick heather grey cotton.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)