Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Because I'm Getting Rid Of My "Drafts"

I found this way, way back in my archives and I never published it, and I don't remember it even so maybe I never wrote it. I'm a mystery pretty much all the time is my point. It resembles real writing so I'm reluctant to post it, because what if I win a major award with it and then millions of people stream here to see me, and then they read all my cock-and-booby based entries and they get all racist against me? I guess that's a chance I have to take...for America. It was early last winter when I wrote this:

We sit on the couch like dignitaries without countries, trying to make sense of the pale newsman who is telling us that the drive in will be perilous. Sleep is still a hooked and barbed thing sticking to us. We stare at him without comprehension. We sit and wait. For wakefulness. For purpose. For motivation.

None is forthcoming.

The pale man tells us about a house fire. The address is familiar... the way a person might be if you had just recently dreamed them and then forgotten. The house is slumped and sorry and blackened from the gutting. It looks defeated.

Outside the car tires hiss off the pavement and the snow pellets tick a million clock beats against the black window glass. It's like God is tapping his foot. Waiting for our day to start. Waiting for us to know that it has already.

Boy: Can we eat?
Me: Sure.
Girl: Waffles?
Me: Sure.
Boy: I want Pop Tarts
Me: Okay.

Another set of moments amble by before I am motivated enough to rise off the couch. I trudge into the kitchen, open the freezer and then I am blank and thinking about the dream I had where the snow was deep and the sky was electric. There was a girl. I was saying I would know just what to write in the morning. But I was wrong and she told me what to write instead.

Boy: Dad?
Me: Oh! Sorry!

I get breakfast and we wake. Slowly and together. The laughter filters in between the grumbles like the coffee that is cheerily bubbling. The sun bruises the sky and the impatient snow stops for a moment. The house is warm. We bundle up and then we are gone.


The Jules said...

Yup. That's a pretty good replica of real writing that is.


Char said...

you know i love, just sayin'

BugginWord said...

That was lovely...but it IS my first time to the site. So now I'm going to have to poke around and find some cock-and-booby posts so I can decide if I should stalk you. Lucky for you I LOVE cock-and-booby posts.

Spot said...

Wow. Who knew you could write really really well? Not that I don't enjoy the usual fare of insane ramblings (in fact I count on them). But you writing for serious is possibly award winning.


Ben said...

That was wonderful. Kudos for keeping it real.

mytornadoalley said...

I feel a little lost. You didn't call yourself handsome; not even once.

JAG said...

I am judging you so hard right now. So hard. Fortunately, you're coming out alright (TWSS!) in that so I forgive the lack of cocknboobies.

Miss Yvonne said...

I love this post because it involved Pop Tarts. Pop Tarts make everything more better and delicious.

Jaimi said...

I miss these. ALOT.

Ed Adams said...

That shit was good.

Just like your mom.


Lindsay said...

I had something real funny to say but I can't top Ed Adams comment. So why try?

Carolyn...Online said...

I was waiting for the 'your mother' punchline at the end and it never came. And now I'm confused.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

You have so many sides. You're like the dodecagon of pedophilia.

Mona Lott said...

Well that was god awful! I'm so glad Steamy and Ed were here to class up the joint!

Tony Spunk said...

I just made a highly witty comment and Blogger ate it. Needless to say either your balls dropped and you made a really grown up, pretty post or else I'm high. And no longer lurking.

Kurt said...

@The Jules: I think the key is to use letters and punctuation. I'll look into it and get back to you.

@Char: Yeah,yeah,yeah...I know.

@Buggin: Welcome. I assure you the boobies / cocks will be legion and forthcoming.

@Spot: I know, right? Now if only I could fly.

@Ben: I'm all about keepin' it real and takin' it to the street and bunches of other stuff where you drop the "g" off the end.

@mytornadoalley: Sometimes you have to read between the lines. Also, I can't make your site "stick" to my blogroll. What's up, Wordpress?

@JAG: I could feel your judgey eyes from here. You made it burn when I pee.

@Miss Yvonne: This is the most common sense comment I got today.

@Jaimi: I was going to say "I miss your mom a lot.", but I'm way too mature for that. At least that's what your mom said.

@Ed Adams: "ba-zing-a!" is the sound that most exemplifies sincerity.

@Lindsay: Because I give out prizes in my mind to the best commentor, and maybe you could have won. You gotta be in it to win it.

@Carolyn: Your Mom never came.

@Becks: Thanks. "Of Pedophilia" is like our long-lost child. Oh how I missed her!

@Mona: You won the best comment prize just then. :)

@Tony: You must be high.