Lines from Notebook, Excerpt from Story
Words from me to you.
Once again, we approach the month’s end without an appearance from yours truly. So here’s to another packing peanut post- I’ve decided to compile a bunch of random lines from my notebook, maybe (hopefully) they don’t all read like filler. The notebook itself is a mix of writing notes, ideas, observations, daily thoughts, and notes from a couple classes I’m taking. The notebook goes from mid-December to today. What you read may or may not be fiction. And later, I will share an excerpt from a story I wrote.
Here’s the list.
Lalitha is forcing steam into a pitcher of milk at an espresso machine on the counter.
One of the baristas has a tattoo on the back of her neck, some words I can’t read.
The gush of the steamer- horrible. Like vultures circling, like impending pointlessness.
a weak liquor-happy horse with no morals.
when the taxi arrived I got in and prepared a proper grovel to perform for my superior.
It was about feeling tendons tear between my teeth, the viscera of it all, the chewy, the American, the rebellion, the curiosity
A little girl takes a piece of bacon she stole from school and throws it in the vat of rasam.
Include menses somewhere.
I feel like an egg yolk.
you can levitate objects with sound…
How to apply function to ‘things’? [NOTE: I really struggled with correcting the grammar of this one]
I’ve done some research, and it’s affirming. So is angry music.
65% sun will be blocked by moon. Full effects begin around 1:43 PM
I’m fucking tired
It is a hot, muggy day today and our bodies are crowded together on the lawn in front of the building.
Voice is what draws B in, regardless of subject
Plot = dominos
poetry: fewer places to hide (than in prose)
look out for habits of speech- eavesdrop
fucked up side effects of doing the right thing. It’s the drop on a roller coaster, so I guess we ride.
What else? I’ve been busy with the two classes I’m taking, and work. Oh yeah! I went to the aquarium. All the fish were listening to brat.
Here’s an excerpt from a story I wrote, a story that I can’t decide as a dud or an experimental playground. But this is a fun piece of the story that doesn’t resemble the rest of it at all, which is more traditional. :
“Lalitha imagines Vanilla Latte to be writing some sort of insane rambling.
‘Dear Mr. President,
How are you? As I mentioned in my previous correspondence, I say we sell Alaska to the Canadians. Or the Russians, whoever is the highest bidder. Did you know borders dictate weather patterns? Selling Alaska would raise the national temperature average enough that I can finally step outside in January without putting shoes on; I hate shoes. We could use the money for something truly worthwhile, like sidewalks for dogs. The fact is that when I’m walking outside, I want to make it to my destination at least once without getting my leash intertwined with people’s dogs’ leashes. All I want is to go outside, hold my leash in my mouth like an adult and say hello to my best friend at the end of the street. He’s a scarecrow, and someone has to make sure his hay doesn’t fall out. I am idolized in my community for taking care of him daily. But it’s getting tough; as newcomers enter the neighborhood and bring their canines, more than ever I end up getting caught up in dog tangles in which I feel very judged for not participating in the group licking. I just don’t feel like swallowing a bunch of fur, you know what I mean? Now, if the dogs were scarecrows? Completely different story. Hay is exquisite. I know what you’re thinking- isn’t that kind of masochistic, to consume your friends’ innards? But let me remind you, they’re scarecrows. So such logic makes no sense. There needs to be some kind of separation between human and dog walkways, so intertwining does not happen. At least not between humans and dogs.
Sincerely,
Vanilla Latte’
Lalitha jolts out of her fixation on the woman’s laptop when she realizes glinting brown eyes under furrowed eyebrows are staring back at her. Lalitha looks quickly at her water bottle, and continues to sense eyes on her. She has four minutes left on her break. Close enough. She gets up and goes back to the kitchen.”
Thoughts? The greater story is about a lady who works in a café, and it’s kind of about nothing. She has one difficult customer (Vanilla Latte). There’s a Weezer cover band that plays in the café. She and the customer end up bonding. The whole story is loosely based on my experience being drunken as a latte in my local coffee shop, and it is a horror.
And that’s all! Peace out.