Having lost everything, again.June 8, 2008 at 4:41 pm | Posted in writing | 17 Comments
‘Yeah well, you pays your money and you takes your chances.’
‘But I dont think in sentences, five to ten, and I don’t think anybody does. A writer understands that language is a way of seeing, a mediating filter between the me and the not-me.’
‘Well, maybe so,’ he says slamming the lid of the piano down on my fingers, ‘but you still owe what you owe.’
‘It’s a way of being, involving an involuntary compulsion toward risk.’
‘Man still wants what’s his,’ he says wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘You can’t discover a boundary without crossing it.’
‘Whatever. You gonna fuck her or not?’
‘Well, can I talk to her first? Then it might be considered erotica.’
‘Talk all you want. This is pro porno. We got a good editor.’
‘My feet are too big. I look like I’m made of earth. Can you hurry up, the baby sitter is on overtime,’ she says.
(inspired partly by Mobbsy’s painting)