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Thursday, July 31, 2014

I was celebrating my blood pressure being normal for the first time in memory, at the grocery store, of course.

I dumped everything out of the basket onto the belt at the register. The commander at this checkout was a 40ish woman with her red hair in braids and pale pink lipstick. She was either bold as hell or a time traveler. The bag boy, a very small teenager from somewhere in the middle east, name tagged "ELVIS", slouched at the end of the counter.

Together we studied my choices; Doritos, raw cookie dough, two six packs of beer, a pound of roast beef, a bag of pizza rolls, salsa and a quart of coffee ice cream.

"Looks like a frat party." she said "You got everything but the condoms".

(Cue the rimshot)

"Aisle six." said Elvis.

It was a three-way, silent eyeball showdown to see who would laugh first.

 I lost. 

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Dreaming in dialogue

The two men sat at the kitchen table with a pound of compressed marijuana in chunks on sheets of newspaper between them. They were cleaning the pot and making up ounces in baggies by hand and eye.It was not their kitchen.

So the guy says to me 'thirty bucks for an ounce?'
And I say 'yeah, that's right.'
So he says 'I only got two twenties.'
And I say 'I got no change.'
So he says 'Keep it.' and he takes the weed, but he gave me three twenties. I swear I didn't notice until a half hour later. They look pretty real.

Jack reached for a fresh baggie and said “That's your ineffable charm, Donald.”

“In-eff-able...unfuckable?”

“That's right, my man. Can not be fucked.”  Jack said. 

Donald looked down at the pile of weed he was picking at, wiggled his fingers and brightened.  

"I'll use them to pay that parking ticket."

Monday, July 21, 2014

the day job

I am reporting from the Whine Mine on the day BEFORE the full Flower Moon - the moon of compassion and healing. I can't wait until tonight!!!

The Scene & the Players:

Young Miss-On-the-Job in upscale mall ragshop approaches three customers who are busily pawing through the piles of $50 graphic T's straight from the child labor sweatshops back East somewhere.

Sig-MOMMA, per her neck tattoo (size 22, platinum teeth and a diamond studded ear piece blinking frantically) complains loudly and profanely to Young Miss-On-the-Job and her phone that there is nothing in this store in her size and it's DIZCRIMINASHUN! 

Meanwhile, BUGZY (face piercings, bald head, giant plastic breasts) is busy at the T table stuffing stacks of shirts into her booster bag, but her erstwhile assistant/lookout, ANGELFACE (tiger face tats, three different colored wiglets and 2" red toenails hanging out her sandals) has fainted away under the same table - the drugs finally kicked in!

Sig-MOMMA switches deftly over from her lawyer to call 911 and uses the distraction to stuff a full stack of shirts down the back of her spandex shirt as if Young Miss-On-the-Job was carrying a white cane and walking a harnessed German shepherd. “WHAT &#$@! HUMP? ARE YOU DISSING MY @%$# PERSON??!”

Young Miss-On-the-Job has gotten nervous and pushed her Panic Button summoning Mall Security and as they come through the front door, BUGZY takes out her Taser for self defense and accidentally tases Sig-MOMMA who's earpiece shorts out setting her blond helmet afire.

Overcome with anxiety and lattes, Young Miss-On-the-Job vomits on ANGLEFACE who revives, rolls over and bites BUGZY on the ankle. Sig-MOMMA is busy stomping out her smoldering wig, one mallcop has handcuffed the sleeping ANGELFACE to his partner's leg as EMS arrives on the scene and takes over.

BUGZY fled the scene with approximately $900 worth of merchandise and Young Miss-on-the-Job complains about having to phone in the report AFTER she has clocked out and she wants to be reimbursed for her Kung Pao rabbit & three iced mochaccinos - $44.99 and another teeth whitening session, $110.00. End of report.


(When do I get my Fox Pilot and Which of the Tramps of NJ will play the part of Young-Miss-on-the-Job? Stay tuned - DISCLAIMER - the preceding was overheard and here paraphrased from a meeting at a local Borders "Writers At Large" meeting. The topic of discussion was "New Stir Fry recipes using rejection slips for extra fiber" but the speaker was successful and without credence.-ed)

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Carpe Noctem

A train of thunderstorms passed through the area  last night. Brief, violent and not wet enough. The power flicked off while I was wrapping up a long report for a customer. Whoopee! No power means I'm offline until it's restored. Of course, it also means I don't get paid for the missing time.  But, oh well, act o' god and all that.

It was too early to sleep and I caught the bones of a good story while paddling around in the pool earlier in the day. I took a few notes at the time, but couldn't read them in the dim light so I just started from scratch scribbling away by candlelight. Five minutes into it,  I heard a huge splash from the pool and went out on the deck to investigate.

A large limb fell from one of the overhangs and circled lazily with all the other tree trash that happens every night. The drizzle stopped, the clouds parted and a brilliant moon turned everything blue-white. I shut off the flashlight, took my tarot deck and went down onto the pool deck for the blessing. Starkers.

Moontan and sanity restored, I came back upstairs and put down the first eight longhand pages  of what I had started in the water. Now to key it all into the magic writing machine.

 I wish, though, that I had gone into the water, but that limb and all the rest of the detritus moved around in a way that made me think of the scene in Star Wars where they are trapped in the garbage chute on the Deathstar. You know, before the walls started closing in, something swimming by in the soup, brushing Luke's leg. The thought of creatures in the water put me in the proper frame of mind to paint this story with dark colors.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

convo


"The Waterwitch"


Now that I can hear them again, my characters are talking to me, talking to each other.
Every he said and she said is a stepping stone forward.

Dialog is the connective tissue that the story's flesh and bones have been missing.

They wake me in the night.