the town is quiet on a sunday night
Jul. 13th, 2008 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ljgeoffI was really doing ok up until I wrote this line: As his hand reached out for the switch, he could see very clearly some other hand pasted over his hand, some other hand reaching out for some other door. He closed his eyes hard.
I was in the shop. No one had come for hours and it was about time to close. I'd just watched BBC's Recovery, so perhaps that was some of it --
I looked at the line again and had to stand up, paced around and called Len to ask him what would happen when a door opened with the room behind it flooded. We talked for that a bit and he asked when he'd see me again. "I feel... I wouldn't be good company, now. I'm .. it's like I'm a few seconds out of sync with everything else, and I'm running to catch up"
After gathering all the trash and tossing it in the dumpster, I started up the van and headed home to walk the dog. I felt sick and giddy, like I'd just come off a carnival ride. The radio started playing Nothing Else Matters. I leaned forward and turned it way up -- and caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror, hair on end and wild-eyed.
The back road out of Negaunee to Ishpeming winds through woods and past a swamp, skirts some high ground and the fence to the cave-in ground. Runs past Other Keith's house, but he wasn't home. Damn. I turned the radio down and called my Mom to ask her what a dead man's eyes looked like. "I'm writing a story."
"Why don't you write what you know?"
"Yas always run up against something, eh?"
"Huh. Well, glazed over and not wide open, kinda half-open."
"'Kay. Thanks."
I circled back to Negaunee along '41, went home, walked the dog and told the kids hanging out there to pick up or I'd ground them from my house again. They looked around themselves with concern and I left, saying that I'd be back with food.
So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No, nothing else matters
For some reason, I feel a bit more on my pins now. Still that giddy, stomach thing, have to swallow every now and then. But off to the store, and there's some old beer in the 'fridge and a story pounding behind my eyes.
I was in the shop. No one had come for hours and it was about time to close. I'd just watched BBC's Recovery, so perhaps that was some of it --
I looked at the line again and had to stand up, paced around and called Len to ask him what would happen when a door opened with the room behind it flooded. We talked for that a bit and he asked when he'd see me again. "I feel... I wouldn't be good company, now. I'm .. it's like I'm a few seconds out of sync with everything else, and I'm running to catch up"
After gathering all the trash and tossing it in the dumpster, I started up the van and headed home to walk the dog. I felt sick and giddy, like I'd just come off a carnival ride. The radio started playing Nothing Else Matters. I leaned forward and turned it way up -- and caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror, hair on end and wild-eyed.
The back road out of Negaunee to Ishpeming winds through woods and past a swamp, skirts some high ground and the fence to the cave-in ground. Runs past Other Keith's house, but he wasn't home. Damn. I turned the radio down and called my Mom to ask her what a dead man's eyes looked like. "I'm writing a story."
"Why don't you write what you know?"
"Yas always run up against something, eh?"
"Huh. Well, glazed over and not wide open, kinda half-open."
"'Kay. Thanks."
I circled back to Negaunee along '41, went home, walked the dog and told the kids hanging out there to pick up or I'd ground them from my house again. They looked around themselves with concern and I left, saying that I'd be back with food.
So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No, nothing else matters
For some reason, I feel a bit more on my pins now. Still that giddy, stomach thing, have to swallow every now and then. But off to the store, and there's some old beer in the 'fridge and a story pounding behind my eyes.