Beautiful Neighborhood

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

It’s another headachy day in the neighborhood, a headachy day in the neighborhood; won’t you be mine, won’t you be mine; won’t you be my neighbor. Hi boys and girls, welcome to another rainy Seattle day. Wow. That was terrible. That was beyond bad, that was, please, someone, grab a stick and beat me senseless bad. Before you blame the lack of caffeine (this is my second, unintentional caffeine-free writing day), I want it placed on the record that yesterday was caffeine-free as well, and while yesterday’s musing was brain dead and drivel, I didn’t have a headache. So, take that, you evil I don’t want David to drink caffeine zealots.

I still want to get back to the Sacrificial Lamb story, but I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight. It’s difficult getting these words out without having to think and write a story. I’ve decided to tell the story from both Esther’s and Fred’s point of view at the same time, interspersed, if you will, so you can watch Mr. Jenkins visit both of them and see their reactions. That’s the plan, at least. There’s going to have to be history between Esther and Fred, and flashbacks—I like flashbacks. I didn’t expect this to turn into a full-length story, but I’m not complaining.

Today was a good day at work. I don’t know why I’m such a sucker for compliments, but I received one this morning, and after that, my work output quadrupled. I should buy a compliments machine for my office. I imagine it with a large, red button, which I push every morning. The compliments would have to be different and heartfelt. I’d see right through it if I felt the machine was faking in any way.

Here’s a non-poem I threw down while in the throes of a keep my eyes closed because my head is pounding and if I move so much as an eyelash, my head will explode moment:

//

Dried beef flavors noodles of wool;

Razing forests of splendor across bedrocks of green;

Why they make him to ride the night?

Try of which to rinse the purple pus.

My eyes explode across vision’s stars;

Pained fingers tap pools of raisins.

//

Yeah, that’s what I think also. I’m going to call it an early night. I will find inspiration one day this week, and don’t blame me if it’s at the bottom of a cup of yummy caffeine with steamed milk.