Saturday night.
I am staying in and writing a story about hookers, beer, and unrequited love, something totally hackneyed that I can't convince myself isn't worth exploring, because unrepentant stares and Trivial Pursuit pieces and driving at night in the snow are giving me brand new words for it all, for all the hookers and beer and anal sex and matricide and unrequited love, too many words and too many things for one short story but whocaresmaybe it'll be a novel someday.
today I am filled with renewed excitement about typing syllables and flying across the Atlantic and shakingshakingshaking. all I do is shake, you know? shake from caffeine or from terror or from excitement or from hunger. it's always something and right now it's everything, and more and more, because the human heart (I've done the math) can be in as many as 42 places at once, 48 if you're really fucked, and I'm not sure but I think I might be.
which should come as a surprise to no one.
but all the different kinds of shaking cancel each other out sometimes and I am left with nothing but contentment. one plus one equals zero. four times nothing equals nothing. 42 places representing the 42 peopleandthings you can only love and love and love. they're all inside you but all the slots for them are empty. library bookshelves with all the books lent out. zero plus zero equals contentment.
seriously, I think I'm ready for hospital treatment.
I am staying in and writing a story about hookers, beer, and unrequited love, something totally hackneyed that I can't convince myself isn't worth exploring, because unrepentant stares and Trivial Pursuit pieces and driving at night in the snow are giving me brand new words for it all, for all the hookers and beer and anal sex and matricide and unrequited love, too many words and too many things for one short story but whocaresmaybe it'll be a novel someday.
today I am filled with renewed excitement about typing syllables and flying across the Atlantic and shakingshakingshaking. all I do is shake, you know? shake from caffeine or from terror or from excitement or from hunger. it's always something and right now it's everything, and more and more, because the human heart (I've done the math) can be in as many as 42 places at once, 48 if you're really fucked, and I'm not sure but I think I might be.
which should come as a surprise to no one.
but all the different kinds of shaking cancel each other out sometimes and I am left with nothing but contentment. one plus one equals zero. four times nothing equals nothing. 42 places representing the 42 peopleandthings you can only love and love and love. they're all inside you but all the slots for them are empty. library bookshelves with all the books lent out. zero plus zero equals contentment.
seriously, I think I'm ready for hospital treatment.
VIEW 26 of 26 COMMENTS
tinyelvis:
GET SOME!
judas:
;