Two days of writing—well, if you consider this writing (which I don’t, at least not this part, maybe the next part, but we’ll see about that—yeah, that was a great use of commas). Even with the rain last night, I feel in my bones the beginning of the drought. Soon, it’ll be nothing but Clear Skies in Seattle. I bought some bicycling gear yesterday, and I can’t wait to try it out tonight. (It turns out that I didn’t try it out but went to the Italian restaurant instead. There’s always tomorrow.) I’ve started riding (I originally wrote “writing,” Freudian slip) again, partly as justification for spending so much money buying a bike, but mostly because it’s fun and it’s exercise, and exercise is something I’ve not seen much of lately.

Wow. In a paragraph I covered everything that’s happening in my life (sans video games, which, except for this reference, I’ll spare you my failed attempts to fight). I will finally see Doolies on July 23rd, after a long, long absence. Her July schedule stinks, with calls every weekend, and other evil infestations that keep me from her. At least we always have our video games (ugh, I tried to resist, but I’m saturated by its evilness and must mention it multiple times—it’s a terrible addiction. We played for a couple of ours tonight, which is why this posting is rushed and full of incoherent words. Isn’t it great, this posting of things that make sense and are not even close to poetic? Where’s the Great Abstract David?).

Let’s see if I have anything in me today related to the creative persuasion.

***

Small stones of varying colors covered the ground in every direction. Tables and chairs surround me, which is not necessarily a good thing because besides the grayed rug I have nothing around me to talk about. No people to watch, no columns to hold, no chairs to stack. Well, I guess I do have chairs, but I don’t want to stack them.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on later.”

“Why don’t you tell me now? And, more importantly, if you’re not going to tell me now, why’d you even bring it up in the first place? Are you trying to build the anticipation? If you are, it’s working, and it’s working terribly. Now, tell me.”

“I wanted to give you a heads up that I was going to tell you everything later. For now, I have to run. How’re the kids?”

“They’re doing well. Sam finished first grade last Thursday, and Marie has a strange fascination with placing her fist in her mouth. You have time to talk about the kids, but not the big news?” George did that often. He would hint at something and then put off telling about it.

“I’d tell you, but I want to save it. Plus, it’d be a shame to waste the telling while we stand in line at the coffee house.” George collects his coffee and starts walking toward the door.

***

Not going very far very fast or very long. I wonder if it’ll ever do it. Charged nails spark when placed near the woolen cloths. The racing cars, looking over, at the taxis and the people fighting for places on the road. Zip goes the bicycle.

Blue crazy rugs over raisin-filled night and turn the red iron blades over to see the other side. Time to say nothing again: I say nothing with huge, earth-sized brush strokes. The sun beats me over the head, repeatedly. I wanted something so badly that when I decided to wait, I almost exploded from the pain. Bears with commanding presents.

Three windows up, clothing hung over the gate to dry. The walls painted peach, the shutters opened and painted black. I have nothing—my brain feels dead, like I’m carrying it around in the hopes of presenting it to someone; I wish I knew who I was supposed to give this to.

Rakes rip my eyes. Blood soaks my eyelids with broad strokes of nothingness. I have nothing, why? Because I have thick fingers and thin wrists.

Love triangle: he likes her; she likes him; he likes him, and kills her to get at him. It’s good to be evil. So easy to think about and so taxing to do. I need to find my stride again. Who stole it? (Didn’t I already use this analogy to explain my consternations?)

Story idea: first date ruined by taking a stand; Jessica; Maurice.