mon ami

A

crobats and cracker jacks… sleeping spells and magic bells… plastic toasters and roller coasters, puppy dogs and dewy logs… running outside to play. rosy glass and naked flask… garnering thirst… the dew on the grass will come to your rescue.

his hair smells of marshmallows and cupcakes, lightly frosted with the sun’s smile. eyes the color of deep ocean just like his passion, corporeal and playful.

my turn

M

r. karmic retribution, come sing me a lullaby tonight. come hither and tell me tales of all your doings. tell me about the children you have seen. the children who play with no malice or despair.

enter through the window. whisper erratically what adventures are in store for me. it sounds like sing-song that voice of yours. it’s beautiful, mr. karmic retribution. it binds me like the bamboo ties from his mother’s wicker chair.

mr. karmic retribution… i have longed for you for so many years. come sweep me away from this wretched place and take me to the place that is calm and cool. stab me unexpectedly in the back when i’m looking away. stab me sweetly and grin.

difficulty with creating dialog

I

t’s so easy to describe a character though narrative. but giving a character actual discourse and trying to attribute characteristics through speech patterns or colloquial choices… it’s difficult.

possible titles :
mast blvd, 1 mile
life viewed through camera obscura
candy bars and lipstick

quote:
"and as one realizes that one is a dream figure in another person's dream, that is self-awareness."

ramblings of nothingness… a narrative

I

t was the evening of great sadness. it was the time when things weren’t right. if you had encountered these things perhaps you would understand the tone of the night. tomorrow always holds much promise. tomorrow is a never-ending bread basket of possible fortunes. it is as if you were to sleep for days and never encounter a discouraging thought or situation. but the eve of tomorrow is always different. the eve of tomorrow always holds the guttural bile of the intestinal belly of today. today is the only day that matters yet tomorrow always holds much more potential. how will we ever make the two worlds mix? you were there one time. you were there wearing that yellow jacket and carefully pressed jeans. you were there telling stories of times past. nothing really salient. just stories for the sake of stories. will your stories ever have any meaning? you look too cool. you look too cool in that yellow jacket of yours. haven’t we met before then? was that the first time we actually talked face to face to one another? isn’t this thing just talking back to me?

bon jour! enchanté mes amis. comment allez vous?

je suis la fille de fraise.