Fuck politics

It's literary time.

Just finished a really personal short story.  In essence, an attempt to see what the literary market will pay for small pieces of my soul.  Come and get it!

Of course, it's also heavily fictionalized.  Because my life is boring.

Snippet:

            I always remembered Anthony's room wrapped in this kind of dream-like haze so when they opened the door to remove the body, I didn't recognize it.  It used to be that you walked in and this thick kind of gray film stretched itself over your eyes and everything started to look like noir movies.  Blacks and whites in high contrast.  Muted emotions.  Hard-boiled characters.

 

            As they zipped the black-trash-bag over his head, I swear I saw that same smoke coming from him.  I swear I could see it leak out into the ambulance.  I knew that if I went into that bag with him, we would be carried off in that same haze.  Where nothing really mattered.  Where all that existed was our joints and our eyes floating detached from a world that wanted us detached from it.

 

            I met him at the end of high school.  This was during a period I like to call Jennifer.  The reason for this is because of a girl named Jennifer.  Not Jen.  Jennifer.  Idiots called themselves Jen.

 

            She was so bad she came with a warning.

 

            “Don't do it, man.” Bob mumbled between handfuls of curly fries.

 

            I watched her ass swivel itself across the cafeteria.

 

            “You let her in and you're gonna hate yourself.” Munch munch munch.  There was nothing more unconvincing than a fat kid giving you girl advice.

 

            “Whatever.”

 

            So I let her in.  And I hated myself.  Don't misunderstand, though, we never did more than kiss.

 

            She pulled away and with a smile I would have ended myself for said “Oh man, just wait till we start having sex.”

 

            I grinned stupidily and tried not to think what that would cost me.

What a crazy bunch of characters.  What kind hijinx will they get up to, you think?

In other news, I'm writing a lot of love poems.  Because that's cool.  I've thrown out the whole idea of writing stuff no one else has and decided to have a crack of writing the same cliched shit! Hooray!

Snippet:

This is my economy and

(grunt) I’m finished with this recession.

Your money’s no good here

Because I’m done inflating the dime-a-dozen

From now on it’s gold standard

Girls with assets in surplus

And…

Well, I’ll skip the bit about a stimulus package.

Hilarity ensues.

Till next time.