Drum-tight heart
Sitting in a cold doctor's
office on a sunny morning, looking at
my Moleskine
notebook, discovering old
writing ideas that I will never use.
Please steal them. Give them life. Some of
them have been trapped in my little
notepad for years.
First the concepts
angel-in-residence
ritual explosives
liquidity of memory
drum-tight heart
fill it up with Ethyl
Then fill in
the gaps
Message on our answering machine,
2003: Giovanni's got a
package for you.
Conversation on a dry, dusty day at
Children's
Fairyland:
Father, very angry, to toddler:
You got my
shoes dirty right after I cleaned them!
Grandmother,
placating: You
know
how funny
he is about his shoes.
Finally, the
Moleskine
Good luck reading my
writing. I can barely decipher it myself. And
I've been drawing the same doodles since I
was twelve.
This post is written in homage to koe
whitton-williams of the
half-life of lineoluem
and
if the
walls could talk. I've chosen to go
almost all
lower-case in this paragraph, but I
could be wrong. I'm working without a
stylebook.
Next post: a return to narrative.
Images above: Me,
waiting, waiting, for the doctor or,
err, the nurse-practitioner
Images below: What I wrote in my notebook
while I was waiting