Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Short Update...I need help!!

“I’m on the right track, baby,
            I WAS BORN THIS WAY…”
I can’t help but belt Gaga as it bleeds from my speakers at a red light, running late. Windows down, the guy stopped next to me even sings along. Phone in the passenger seats buzzes and I glance to see who could be calling: Jess. Shit. Before I could answer, it goes to voicemail but she doesn’t leave one. God, she’s probably pissed.
“Don’t hide yourself in regret,
            just love yourself and you’re set.”
Light still shines red as I hum, double-checking my reflection. “Damn, girl,” I whisper to myself. My purple and teal streaked bangs are pinned up perfectly, contrasting with the brunette mane I inherited from my mother. Make-up is flawlessly Fifties, dress cocktail style, bright red pumps, coordinating supremely. I feel fabulous.
“Whether life’s disabilities left you outcast,
            bullied, or teased…”
Green light! My heavy foot shifts from break to accelerator, breaking first from the pack to fly down Main Street. I approach the shop in no time, and my foot shifts again, this time to the brake. **In this spot, I want to address the fact that she is a female artist, which is somewhat uncommon in the business. Possible?**

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Section Two, I Think

I was going to Intro with this, but I think it would fit better as a start to section two...
And I'm going to draft more tomorrow morning, but probably in other sections.
I want to better convey the emotion between the two people, and give more of their history...even if I have to make some of it up. I'm struggling with the blurry line of creative non-fiction...!

“Hey Josh, can I have another?”
“You bet, darlin’.”
My old friend pulls another glass from under the bar, reaches behind him for my favorite whiskey, and grabs the sweet&sour. I watch as he pours the perfect proportion of each—topping it off with three cherries. We’ve known each other for seemingly decades, our old souls finding each other just a few short years ago. He places the drink on my cardboard coaster, flashing the kind of heart wrenching grin that makes most girls swoon.
“You’re an artist,” I say.
“I know. I’ll be right back—don’t go anywhere.” Josh bustles down to the other end of the bar to pour drinks for a couple of his regulars. In no time, he’s right back in front of me with that same grin and stands against the bar, finally able to take a small break. "I didn’t expect to see you tonight…how ya been?”
The longer his eyes bore into mine, the more I can feel my face get warm. Damn that grin.
“I’m good,” is all I could muster, looking down, nervously stirring my perfect cocktail. “It’s been a while..”
His cheerful attitude fades, fast. “Yeah, it has. You never come around anymore, Jess. Don’t return my calls, texts, the notes I left at your office. Hell, I had to call Maggie to make sure you were still alive. Like you dropped off the planet and I didn’t get the damn memo.”
As Josh rants, I can feel the tears welling up. A few months ago, I did just leave—skipped town for couple weeks, drove across Washington with nothing but a small suitcase and a few hundred bucks. Left my phone on the kitchen counter. I called Maggie from random places every few days to tell her I was alright; she mentioned Josh went a little crazy. Well, maybe that was me.
“Josh, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Aw, Jess. I didn’t mean to make you cry. It’s really good to see you. You look great.” He leans across the bar to swipe my cheek, his hand lingering longer than it should. I can’t hold his stare, and as he retracts, my eyes flash to his left arm. Black ink peaks out from where t-shirt meets skin and Josh follows my gaze, only to quickly pull at his sleeve. My own hand reaches for my own left arm, feeling a pang of sadness.
“I’m getting mine covered,” I blurt. Instantly, I regret it, but the words just keep spewing out. “I hate it. It’s ugly and wasn’t done properly.”
“Oh yeah?” This time, Josh is the one looking a little choked up. “When’re you doing that?”
“Today. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” His face falls. Regret.
“Yeah, in like an hour. I wanted to have a drink or two, you know, to make it hurt less.” It’s now I realize any chance I have of making things better between us just evaporated. I can almost physically feel Josh pulling away from me, shutting me out, even though he has yet to budge. He isn’t looking at me anymore, my face isn’t warm.
“I’m going to check on everyone. Be back.”
My old soul mate won’t come back. He heads to the other end of the bar.
“Josh. Wait.”
“What, Jess? What could you possibly have to say?”
I pause. Looking.
“Love you, still. Always have, always will.”
With that, I slide off my stool. Tears cloud my vision as I drop some cash on the bar.
I shouldn’t have come here.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Keepin' It Old School

I've taken to writing in a way that I never have before.
By hand.
It's changed my process, but I'm happy with where this new, or perhaps old, technique is leading me.
The lack of my own personal computer has left me with this situation. Remember, friends, technology hasn't been good to me this semester.
I can write whenever I feel the urge--some of my work for this assignment can be found on a napkin, for example--and, thinking now, I'm amazed that this idea has never occured to me before. 
I'm working on typing it all, to form somewhat of a draft.
But until then, this is what you get:

****The Preparation****
“Hey Josh, can I have another?”
“You bet, darlin’.”
My old friend pulls another glass from under the bar, reaches behind him for my favorite whiskey, and grabs the sweet&sour. I watch as he pours the perfect proportion of each—topping it off with three cherries. We’ve known each other for seemingly decades, our old souls finding each other just a few short years ago. He places the drink on my cardboard coaster, flashing the kind of heart wrenching grin that makes most girls swoon.
“You’re an artist,” I say.
“I know. I’ll be right back—don’t go anywhere.” Josh bustles down to the other end of the bar to pour drinks for a couple of his regulars. In no time, he’s right back in front of me...