Drum-tight heart
Sitting in a cold doctor's office on a sunny morning, looking at my Moleskine notebook, discovering old writing ideas that I will never use. Please steal them. Give them life. Some of them have been trapped in my little notepad for years.
First the concepts
angel-in-residence
ritual explosives
liquidity of memory
drum-tight heart
fill it up with Ethyl
Then fill in the gaps
Message on our answering machine, 2003: Giovanni's got a package for you.
Conversation on a dry, dusty day at Children's Fairyland:
Father, very angry, to toddler: You got my shoes dirty right after I cleaned them!
Grandmother, placating: You know how funny he is about his shoes.
Finally, the Moleskine
Good luck reading my writing. I can barely decipher it myself. And I've been drawing the same doodles since I was twelve.
This post is written in homage to koe whitton-williams of the half-life of lineoluem and if the walls could talk. I've chosen to go almost all lower-case in this paragraph, but I could be wrong. I'm working without a stylebook.
Next post: a return to narrative.
Images above: Me, waiting, waiting, for the doctor or, err, the nurse-practitioner
Images below: What I wrote in my notebook while I was waiting