Right now the disposal of my mind is backed up, slowly regurgitating the disposable fragments of my day back into view. I don't have anything else to do so I'm staring at each thing I thought I could throw away today, and now I will make a garbage creation, a finite masterpiece, a forgettable symphony melted into a frosted window with the warm tip of my finger.
Except...words make a thing without end.
Perhaps you, stedfast reader, have noticed that I don't swear in my writings. At least I haven't here on my blog except for maybe once or twice, and that was the word ass, which beastfully interpreted, is no swear at all. Right now I think I have a special lack of sympathetic emotion that one might have when one desires to swear. But I'm not going to. There are more clever words to employ for now. Get to work, then.
Anonymous commented on my last post. He addressed me with "hey lady", which for obvious reasons is applicable, but, coming from an anonymous sender, is unacceptable.
"No one reads your blog."
Strike two. And in my game you're out. Don't bury your talentless corpse under anonymity so you feel free to extend a hand of flattery only to slap unobservant criticism in my face.
Your anonymity bores me.
Dull. That's a word to describe my humor at present. Not because I'm uninteresting. Not so. Clearly.
Dull because I already fell from the uncaring branches of reality, to a hard, failing, infertile ground. And when I got up and left that place, it is dull, unimaginative and tasteless now to be presented with a twig and a sack of dirt. Been. Done.
What? I stopped feeling when I fell. I'm not going to return to a grave whose inhabitant left me once already. You can bring the girl to the grave, but you can't engrave the girl any deeper. That doesn't make sense really. See, I'm trying to be more poetic than these feelings deserve.
Do you remember the first lie you were told? I just thought that. I don't remember. I doubt anyone can. I remember the latest lie I was told. And why do they call it "my word"? As in, "you have my word" or "I give you my word"? You don't have words. No one has words.
No one reads my blog. Surely No one is a fan of words then.
If I promised you my word, you would get my word. If I give it to you, it becomes yours and you have it. Sooner than later it would become a lie because you would still think it was mine, and you would think it was obligated to do something for you, but you forget: it's yours now. I am not compelled.
Dull becomes me. What does that mean? I don't even know. I'm not editing this line even when I wanted to from the start. I want to delete it entirely. It doesn't deserve eternity.
"no vacancy in an empty heart motel." That line regurgitated from my journal. That's where I write from my pure self. Where I'm writing from now? That part that knows No one will read these words.
Oh, here's a big piece resurrecting from the disposal grave.
"We're shutting this motel down, Lady."
"Wait, why? Every room is open? Why close a motel that is so . . . open?"
"Because No one comes here, that's why."
"Actually, No one is here! No one is my friend. I'll take you to his room. Suivez-moi."
"..."
"'Follow me.'"
Leader, follower.
knock-nuh-knock
"No one, hey, it's Lady."
Nothing.
"Come on, man. The boss man is here. He's going to shut us down because he thinks No one stays here, which when I told him I knew No one was, he looked confused, and now we're both confused I think, but if you come out, he will see indeed that No one is staying here and we can both stay. Right, boss man?"
"Wrong. This is ridiculous, Lady. I think you may have lost your mind. No one is in there."
"...?"
"No one. Is in. There."
"That's what I'm telling you. No one is in there. I know him! He reads my blog!"
"That's it."
Boss man sashays away, Lady loiters, No one comes out of the room.
(because sashay is a cool word)
So now, it's over. You've experienced it. Except, it didn't do anything to you because it wasn't sharp, neither piercing. It won't do anything for you, don't expect it, because these are no longer my words.
Sorry if you were thirsty since all I did just now was open the soda right in front of you and dispose the pop tab into your palm. Which you shall not use to slap with.
And now I am flipping the switch and dumping the soda down the digesting disposal; it needs liquid to drain.
Keep the tab. That's what I really want to give you. Really want it. For you.
Pointless now that the can is open. Dull.
7 comments:
The list of things that your writing is does not contain "dull."
Something doesn't have to be piercing for it to be important, notable, or enjoyable.
But you know this.
I hoped a soda reference would distract you from actual soda and that I would get a comment from you.... Whether I was right or wrong, you commented. huzzah! :)
Yes, I know many things. Most of all that this post was not dull but highly enjoyable. At least for the writer. Which sometimes is all that matters.
It's always all that matters. If someone else gets something out of it, super. But that's not the point. And I'm glad you agree.
Also: I'm assuming that you agree.
That was a safe assumption. I need to be more selfish in my writing. Like you. But really, I've most always written for someone else and am just now realizing how that's probably my most generous contributor to writer's block. huh. Learn something every day! Thanks
I couldn't want to stop myself from smiling as I finished reading this post.
Still smiling.
I know I said blogs where dead, but I was wrong and so is that anoymouse whoever.
Nate, my joy is full! :)
That wasnt very nice of that person to say that about your blog. But I guess everyone is entitled to their own opinion right? but what a ding dong though
Post a Comment