Monday, February 18, 2008
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hanging from the lampshade, whistling to myself
I WAS CREEPING up the walls of my room today. My mother told me to get down. One should not be climbing anything when sick with malaria, she said. I told her I had taken my antibiotics and that I was indeed ready to scale walls and fight lions and jump in the mud and think girls icky and whatever else it is that immaturity fosters. I told her she was not very sensible in thinking that any illness would be able to bring down the unruliness and cruelty of youth, that her passions should instead lie in crocheting, having bridge parties with the ladies next door, or making scrumptious cookies for my consumption, to which she replied why you little blank and blank blank blank. I yelled hooie and scrambled out from out under the covers, crawling and making knee-holes in my pajamas to the flight of stairs, rolled all the way down tumbleweed-style right into my dirty boots, ran around the living room some footprinting all around, then affirmed that yes I will be home for dinner and that yes the cat made a mess under the couch again and yes that is definitely grandmamma yelling for her from downstairs in the basement. I left the front door unlocked, something she would find completely unforgivable, and met up with a perfectly good stranger walking from the opposite direction with a little gimp.
I said Gimpy Mo, why do you saunter and stride with such a delightful little crick. He said he had his knee replaced not long after his leg got caught in some pressing machinery at work, that it was all bloodied and battered right after it came out the other end, so my innocence entirely shattered, I instantly felt sorry for the fellow, his name actually Randal as he told me after, and invited him to come with me to the bookstore where I was planning to go before I bumped into him. I showed him all the predictions and premonitions I had scribbled down on ripped up little pieces of stationery I stole from the mother’s antique desk in her study. I said here’s the one that came to me just yesterday, the one that tells a guy where he misplaced the key for his safe deposit box at the bank, here’s the one that reveals to an old man that his son is to eventually die before he does, here’s the one that notifies the woman who lives over a couple blocks that her husband was unfaithful the night she went out for an emergency trip to the drugstore for feminine products, unfaithful with whom specifically no I could not tell, the damage already done.He asked if all of these were true and I said as true as the hat on his silly head. He wanted to know very badly what I was to do with these little unsolicited pieces of information and I detailed out each and every last one, the books they will be placed in, the specific pages at which they will be stumbled on, seemingly at random when the individuals pick it up the next time they visit this place. I said deposit box guy likes to stick his nose in classics whereas the unfortunate old man enjoys yachting magazines and Mrs. tampon sucks romance novels through straws, how ironic. Then lastly I showed him the poem I wrote, which I too will hide in a book for myself to accidentally discover when I grow up, dusty and yellowed by the time I get to it years later, and how it goes:
I want to Play
I want to Play
I want to play
But mothers
said “no”.
She said
I had a
cold But
I want to play
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Comments (37)
so, it was that the man with the gimp leg packed all of this conversation away in the back of his mind, until that one sun-shiny day when he could point at a TV screen in a silent salute to the young man on the morning talk show endorsing his new best-selling book. randal could point at his screen, and smile as he rubbed his leg, and remembered that he'd helped keep the secrets that had made the young boy famous. and, anyway - there was a reason why that woman had taken so long on her errand that night... the other side to a secret that put spring into his step, in spite of his mangled limb.
I love love love your stories
delightful! have you read much o.henry?
You know, I'm going to the bookstore tomorrow. And now I kind of wish I'd find a little note in the book I pick up.
If my old friend Randy was still alive,
he'd love your writing tooThis is delightful from the knee holes to the magic of a note inside a book.
This story is very odd, yet something about it makes sense. I haven't figured it out yet. ;)
Ahhh, this is probably my new favorite ^_^;
Finding random notes in books? =D
That's charming. I should do that. Go to the library sometime within the next week, pick up a random book and insert an anonymous note in one of the pages. I'll actually do it. I triple-dog-dare myself.
I never got to step outside and gulp in any fresh air. It is way too cold here. We were up at San Juan Islands yesterday (can't you believe it, we actually got to go!) and boy was it windy! Maybe I'll post some pictures up later.
I don't know if this means anything to you, but keep doing what you're doing. You'll change someone's life. I mean that.
Charmed, yet again.
You never fail to amaze me, V.
What's so interesting about this piece, is that you intertwine the narrator's voice (which seems wise throughout, as if he's looking back and telling the story) with a wild, childish accent. It's really cool how we see the growth of the protagonist so dramatically in the space of three paragraphs. And to top it all off, a very creative thought about leaving notes for people in books. I wonder what mine would say...
You know how you said you wish you could make a few of your stories longer? I think this one has lots of potential. There are already a galore of characters ready to develop.
I've always wanted to leave little messages in library books. Passages of writing, my own, or someone elses. A poem in a poetry book, like an extra surprise for someone else. There is a coffee shop downtown here where I occasionally leave love notes to no one at all, and hope someone reads it and feels a little better. About anything, really.
That is great! Brings me back to the days of my youth when I'd drive my mom up a wall on sick days.
RYC: It was not intentional. I copy and paste most of my writings from Word documents and Xanga just loves to reformat the last line.
I am going to subscribe to you. Your entries look like a lot of fun, and remind me of days when my Xanga was not clogged with omgangst!
This one is a lot more abstract, I think. I love the idea of writing little notes to stick in books. I wish I could find notes in books. Perhaps I'll start writing some! I just love your writing so much, I wish I could hug it!
ryc:Oh that's so strange. Normally you'd think Target would have a good selection of socks. It's just a frame store that sells art supplies and other knickknacks. I used to hate my job in the beginning but I'm beginning to like the people and we just hired this really cute guy so I'm excited to work with him haha! Oh little baby socks! Oh I love it! I never thought of that one! They have cute baby socks. Oh this will be great!I wonder what Gone With the Wind would've been like in black and white. I've only seen it in color and it's breathtaking. And it's strange I couldn't imagine watching that in black and white. I haven't been to Blockbuster in the longest time either! I remember back east I dragged my friends to Blockbuster after dinner and they had a few too many drinks and I spent like an hour browsing those 4 for $20 deals. They got so upset with me haha! I love the way people talked back then. It was so romantic, I think.
Isn't San Francisco just wonderful? I haven't made a trip to the city in so long (I live in the suburbs about a half hour inland). I think I'm going in a few weeks for a field trip, thankfully! I miss my city. And of course if you're ever in town you simply have to tell me! I think San Francisco is most beautiful in the spring and summer. It's always the perfect temperature. I'm sorry this is so long.
This one made me laugh a lot. Was this one done as a joke of sorts? Elaborate for me, please.
no worries! there's always another to step in if they decide to cancel each other out. that's the good thing about voices, there's always another.
I'm going to have to! The next time I'm in the bookstore I'm going to shove little things in books. Oh one in each section! I'll start with the A's of each section! And eventually there will be notes scattered everywhere. And I'll handwrite it so it seems less deliberate.
I've seen Science of Sleep! I loved it! And I love Gael Garcia Bernal. He's such a cutie! I loved the mix of French, Spanish, and English in that movie too. It was so darling and so abstract. There are so many movies I've been wanting to see. I don't know where to begin. I've been thinking about reading Gone with the Wind, but it does seem like one of those books where it's excruciatingly long and detailed and the movie cuts it down...a little haha! The only Blockbuster I know in Brooklyn is the one on Myrtle Ave haha. And there's that delicious Chinese place right across the street. My friends and I would go there every week nearly. Oh I miss it! They had the best sweet & sour chicken.
Lombard St. is so fun! Every time I'm in the city with a car I take advantage of it and drive down. I love that it's still sort of 'cobblestone.' The first time I ever visited New York (in April!) I did one of those double decker bus tours for like three hours. And it was freezing and I sat on the top in the front row. Oh my goodness! I couldn't feel my face after that trip haha! I think you'd be my perfect tour guide for the city. We could visit all the strange things I could never see on a regular tour.
This has a 1950's style Naievey to it...
And yet something very real.
We should get coffee :-p
I can only imagine the conversations that would erupt
Zain
Yet another charming little story that brings a smile to my lips.... is there no end to your imagination?
thanks for the msg reply! i will answer soon. currently plowing thru some research before getting back to my emails... BUT needed a break so came back to this story, which really tickles me, so i am dropping you a line to say thanks. :) i adore the yelling hooie part, - that's just scrumptious.
Thanks for the prompt! Muchly appreciated. =)
I'm running out of good things to say about your work.
You are the King of Flash Fiction!
No, it's not.
I think the label said 80% cow hide, 20% man made or something. Synthetics!