a grey knive lurking on the corner of the bathroom counter, incongruously balanced on the edge - just about to fall - the light of day leaked into the room like dish detergent being squeezed gently out of a bottle, and over in the corner, rats rustled in a paper bag. he walked into the room to the sound of the ceiling fan slowly
misunderstood. his left sneaker squeaked slightly. paper in his
pocket crumpled up and a blue crayon behind one ear. a muddy cigarette in one hand and no lighter. his eyes are silently stained-glass windows inside a church with no congregation, waiting for the hollow bellpulls - the doorbell of the Almighty. he takes out a sharpie and marks an x on the wall. moments later a fly buzzes fatly in and lands on the ��������������������������������������������spot, preening and humming to itself. below, at the baseboard, an ant trundles in. he looks at the mirror. he looks away. outside, a bird hits the window, and all things still, in hushed������������������������������������������mourning. an ignorant cricket looses a selfish mating call and
2003-08-20, 7:04 a.m.
a quickie;
���������
�����jason & i are GOING to write a musical.
i just wrote the synopsis for it. two acts, nine scenes. lots of jazz music. set in the jazz age. love & passion! the synopsis is flawed, but it's only a first draft. at least i have SOMEthing.
that's all, really.
more to come later when i feel like putting excerpts from my longhand traveljournal in here.
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�SEH