Do you bloggers shy away from the personal grit of your lives during posts, or spread those words around like hot grease? I've stared at that tightrope, and the height belies the fall. I find it odd - and fitting of today's society, that people I spend 40 or more hours a week in close quarters know less than you, fellow reader.
But I also find it odd to spend two hours in an alternately hot/cold black room in the evening, smelly and full of 60 or more people, quietly sitting-but-not-touching, so close to each other! All staring at a huge panel.
But hey, movie theaters are really popular, no?
On to other things. A little begining I much like, in the way you like the looks of someone on a bus or a train, but then less as they approach you. Maybe this story isn't as tall as I thought when I first spotted it. Maybe this story was better as a romance-that-never-was. I'd like to finish it someday, but it's already quite three weeks stale.
“If you read me David Sedaris again, I am going to puke.”
This is a declarative sentence, I think inwardly. Third grade English teacher is beaming rays of eternal sunshine at me.
His face was like a nude-color flower closing petal by petal until nothing was left but the tight bud of a mouth, “I thought you liked me reading to you?”
“Yeah, well, I thought I liked having ovarian cancer because all of the free jell-o. But guess who’s charging?”
“You are a BITCH. And I hope cancer eats itself out of your PUSSY. “
That was a very declarative sentence, and I cannot argue with it. I try to push my self farther back into the pillows, like a fluffy grave that will hide me.
Someday little sentence, someday. You will have legs, and we will learn to tango.