Saturday, December 31, 2016
Because flesh friends couldn't show up or reply, it was my job to act out all the parts. And what a great time we had.
During the drinking games a couple of fights broke out. A lot of things were said that could never be taken back, and damage happened to some of the furniture, but these things are small prices to pay for an unforgettable evening with one's bosom chums.
"You're the best guy in the world," they all kept telling me in their high-pitched voices. By way of reply, Actual Me said not a word. Expressionless, emotionless, devoid of human sympathy or sentiment, Actual Me merely observed.
Finally, when the games were done, and the time came for every last bit of the joy to cease, I led each man down to the basement, permitting no refusal. As to the events which subsequently followed, I can only say that they were terrible, and had to happen, in order to ensure that our magic night will live forever.
I'm putting this on the blog because I get a kick out of it and I think it adds a little character to the growing list of stories set here in Northeast Oregon. I dig the Post Modern take developing where the speaker is ostensibly me. Beginning with ITHACA, and moving through several other pieces of varying length--WILL WORK FOR BOOKS, STEPS OF ATHENS, YOU ARE MY RELIGION (which could be cut short, but is basically unfinished), and my favorite short story in awhile, BABY STEPS--this new level of material carries a sense of verisimilitude never before so fully realized. Gradually I'm finding pals at work are aware of my writing, and so an exciting energy is developing that makes me want to do right by them and feels sublime. So I've got this new story I'm starting powered by the pumped-up pared-down language that turns me on and including people I see almost every day and places I've seen almost all my life. I'll share the first few pages soon. Again, thanks for checking in. The importance of our sharing this time together can't overstated. That's why I don't monetize this blog, or in any way ever get a dime. To do so would be profane. Money is something created out of thin air which gives those who create it a sense of power. Stories are things I create out of thin air, and the power they give me is more than money can ever buy. All because of you.
Much obliged, my bosom chums! And Happy New Year, too!