crosspost from bwergg @ LJ

started

Nov. 12th, 2005 | 04:18 pm
mood: relaxed
music: nick drake on data at work

i started my book this morning. it's up on my writing blog. or at least...the ideas behind the first three chapters...please don't be offended if i ignore all your comments until i have more of an idea of what the final thing will look like.

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chapter 6: who's fleecing makes a fool of me

for this sweet and heavy trouble he had none other to blame than himself.

i could buy you a drink, i could tell you all about it, i could tell you why i doubted, and i could tell you why i still believe.

but i can't say it like i can fucking sing it. and i can't sing it like i think it. man. and i can't think it. like i feel it. or something. someshit. and i don't feel a thing.

apathy. not worry.

fuck.

chapter 5

i first met him in maine actually. i was visiting a friend there, tyne mcdermont. he lived in this beautiful old house on maine street in orono. orono is right outside of bangor. bangor is an hour from bar harbor you tourist jerk.

anyway, it's a college town in the woods on a river. paper. they make paper in maine.

TO BE CONT.

chapter 4: you're so pretty

although He never was able to espress himself fully, Johnny came. Johnny Drake was a man of character. That didn't mean he didn't smoke pot or drink whiskey or some his pipe too much, but that's ok.

he really like soming his pipe. more than he like cigarettes.

it's funny how you run into people over and over and over over again. And that's how johnny was. he like to sit with his hands folded in his jacket pockets and just some that God damn pipe all through the cool sweet evening. Like the answer to this day from a day long gone. Like a day from before. Like a pretty picture.

i can see him.

he would just sit there and mumble about how if you listen to your brain just right it'll tell you things.

it'll say things like.

"we are the debit card generation."

"ha ha ha and hooo ho ho ho."

and

"don't spoil the ending."

johnny drake knew the ending. and it was a fucking pretty picture.

chapter 3:

as he sat there in his apartment a few years later, not too many...he came about a massive discovery:
people who can do math or science but still like technology will most likely drop out of life in general.

this was the first clue. i found it on a note from the man. the man's back in town. Johnny.

chapter 2:

i supposed i should back up a little bit. perhaps i will now. my sister is pregnant in Germany and my brother is leaving her for Iraq. that just kind of sucks. this book is for her baby.

and now that we've got that out in the open it's time to tell a story that will rock you to sleep but rock you just right. like rage against the machine rocks you. baby baby. rock me gentle. flow, ebb, karamozov me my way home. amen.

it was always strange being the new kid at south windsor high when i was still high from a life in boulder. stranger still were the woods of maine and tennessee. but i'm sure we'll tlk more about that.

just as soon as can be.

my assets in connecticut were my knowledge of NES splendor, a bag, and a buck.

and a school.

a good school, fur shure.

teach me drama bahma and also teach me Theater. teach me a litle geometry and a greenhouse but no math or science.

That's right.

teach me skipping class and smoking pot but don't teach me drinking or tobacco. Not yet. That's too hard. Plus in this society holding everything back from me was the only way for me to motivate towards anything, Fuck this capitalism thing.

fuck it right up the pink rectum hole and twist it around until the shit FINALLY pours out the mount and we make it new and make it stew with splendor. splendor and glory and pretty. I can't be pretty when my situation is so shitty.

And that's where the four friends met.

profiles

cat was just a girl who suddenly found herself all growed up. she didn't know what she wanted out of life. she didn't know what life had to offer.

irvine was your traditional punk nerd genuis with no memory who discovered early in his adulthood - late in his youth - that he might as well fuck up his memory even more.

joe couldn't tell. he didn't know. he pretty much hadn't knowed how to know for too long.

and me. and then we all met him.

table of contents

once upon a time there were four friends. they were all in a pretty fucking shitty situation.

life jenerally sucked for these friends.

they needed some help to get out of their current siteations.

where could this help be found?

who knows?

who knows the answer to their problems?

in walked a man with a furrowed brown and a smile on his gown. he talked fast. he was wearing a pink petticoat and and green giraffee T-Shirt.

Rediculous.

He's our man friends. he's the one. he's the one who can help the four.