Thursday, July 24, 2008

Fuga a 2 voci

mirror seven by shesaskeleton

"you're fu*&ing leaving; __again?"
"yeah. i __am."
"is that cool?, i mean i mean, is that cool? like what you wanna do?"
"__yeah __i don't know. It's just what it is, ya know?"
"sure sure."
[stares at his shoes. they're dirty]
[exhales cigarette smoke. breathes deeply]
[keeps staring at his shoes, not looking at them. not sure what thoughts he's having, wondering about his soul- like a kite attached to his body- he looks up at the sky, wonders where his soul is, what cloud it's with]
"when you think we're gonna get past all this?"
"freaking... i i-"
" you know? like, thursday nights __not being able to sleep, friends and half-friends... and, like like, the other night, at that pub place we were at at
"what about it?
"that girl, that pretty girl... i get all charming, i fu&*ing hate it when i do that. it's not me, i'm not even there. i'm not... i'm like in this black cave in my head jus just thinking my own thoughts. Thinking, 'God, I'm such a freaking ass'. and... what the helll are we doing? like... where are we?"
"figuratively or metaphorically?"
"like... dude, look around you man. how long you gonna keep wearing god damn cons?"
"you gonna diss my shoes now?"
"you know what i mean. Just __life. like... just life." [inhales deeply. stares at cigarette]
[still not sure where his soul is]
"my soul's lost."
"i don't know where it is."
"it's up there somewhere. __doin whatever it is they do. __up there wit the rest of them. you can be sure."
"can i?"
[shrugs] "probably not actually."
"we're doing out best right?"
"we're freaking bums man. __we're sitting out on the front steps of your house on a thursday night. we find streetlights beautiful. the weather is enough to please us... bums have that luxury."
"true dat."
"what happened with Starbucks?"
"nothing. it's going. i told them i'm out though. last shift's next week."
"this homeless guy comes in everyday. __You know, we have this discount, for public servants, like cops and soldiers and stuff... we give them their drinks for free."
"that's cool."
"right. so whenever a bum comes in, i give em that discount."
"what's their service?"
"they remind us about humanity. they remind us about shades and color... all that stuff."
[doesn't say anything]
[stares at his shoes]
"you as scared as me?"
"you as lonely as me?"
[shrugs] "it's better than it used to be. used to be worse. __i dream of white horses. __i hate door knocks. __i feel like i'm falling again, get this... breathless feeling in my stomach, kinda... gagging on nothing, breathing it all in, inhale inhale inhale inhale __hear Shostakovich melodies in my head, __can't walk with my head up, think about kissing women all the time __when i drive, i don't know where i am, can't see anything, am paralyzed. am surprised when i arrive anywhere. how'd i get here? __hey, seriously man, how'd i get here?"
"white horses huh? and a door knocks and they crack into a dozen doves."
"something like that."
"finish it"
"finish what?"
"the dream __pretend it's a dream, finish it."
"____They crack into a dozen doves that fly off. then they grow all blurry, and there's only one kid right, there's this one kid staring at the sky, only this one kid and this homeless guy that sits outside by starbucks, and they're looking at the sky, and they see all these doves slow down in the sky, and grow blurry, and spread thin into these clouds. "
"thanks. heh"
"i don't know what i'm gonna do man." [inhales cigarette smoke.]
[breathes in the dirty air. sighs. ] "we might never make it."
"i know. i'm trying to resign myself to the idea."
"it's true __we might __never."
"i used to be in medical school. did you know that?"
"for shizzle?"
"should have stayed, be all wearing a white lab coat and shouting stat this and stat that all the time. women wanna be with you so they could use for your cheap breast-implant connections and all that. sounds kinda sweet."
"____maybe. ____wasn't."
"you quit on it or it on you?"
"not sure."
"when will you know?"
"not sure if god gives us the recipe when we're done. just a scorecard. so probably never."
"sad thought that one." [exhales smoke]
"__yeah. __now i give bums free coffee at starbucks
"and scab off my cigarette air."
"we're the nothings of this world. you know that? you and i. the nothings"
"yeah. my mom reminds me once a minute"
"ha!" [laughs enthusiastically]
"ha" [smiles sadly]
"freaking funny."
"i was in a room today with five total strangers today. __can't explain why or how though... but like... i felt like i loved them. like... seriously, would have done anything for them."
"don't know, just cause they were, and that was kinda enough."
"what do you think it means?"
"my mom asked me what i'd learnt in the last six months."
"what'd you tell her?"
"i used to hate everyone i ever met. __so __nothing. but i was thinking about that"


Anonymous said...

Sounds like a whole lot of talking and not alot being said. I feel guilty for having read it.


a penny for the old guy said...

it's all there.
it needs to be cyphered, but it's all there.

guilty: culpable of or responsible for a specified wrongdoing

is that how you feel?

Anonymous said...

1.the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law;
2.a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.
3.conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt.

I shouldn't have read it, it was wrong, so yes, I feel guilt.


a penny for the old guy said...

[shrug] a few people tell me that from time to time (feel guilty/voyeur/awkward reading it).
not really sure what to say about that sentiment. it's a public blog, it's there to be read. Perhaps it says something about the... lack of intimacy in the sorts of things people are accustomed to reading nowadays. I don't know. There's no reason to go too deep with it. If you like to read, and enjoy it, then you're welcome, and i appreciate the readership (and comments, shoutouts, opinions, all that good stuff). If not... then... fair enough- i know better than anyone the shortcomings and challenges of this blog and the writing that is presented here.

i'm not feeling totally up-to a portrait of my perfect 'match' right now... for a few reasons (one is, i just got done getting over her)... but i'll think on it, maybe i'll find a way to write the post without having to write the post. if you're around, you might see it up in a few days)

-a penny for the old guy

(as anonymous a name as yours,
for a writer too skilled at writing anonymous, opaque things so that people don't see)

martha said...

screw guilt---i wanna meet whoever the hell you were talking to.

a penny for the old guy said...

thematically it was like a mash up of internal dialogue, things you and i talk about, and things monz and i talk about; and the setting is the front side of your house, on the stairs, where i stared at my shoes or the yellow streetlights a good many times at early morning hours.

in terms of 'who' it is, it's the more neurotic one in my head.

also, i wish i was 'coming through' before you moved!

much love

Mehran said...

Screw the guilt comment x 2. If you can't relate to what was said, then you're probably still 13 with idealistic impressions of your parents and the world - chances are you've never REALLY ventured beyond your known boundaries.

Q, my friend, you're precious commodity - as always, I loved the way it read - perhaps because I can relate to the neurotic self chatter.

"The key to self mastery is the forgetting of self." - I still dont know what that truly means and how to achieve it. Maybe your starbucks friend got it right by giving out free drinks to the homeless. Maybe that's what it's all about.

capone said...

i likes and feel no guilt.

Luis said...

You should write for the screen. This is some really great dialogue, it flows naturally and is unique at the same time. I know it's just my opinion but when I sat through a couple of semesters workshopping scripts of aspiring screenwriters, most of them were no match for this. try writing like a 10 page script sometime.