Thursday, May 24, 2012

Winks and Pelvic Thrusts

Here is part of a story that I have been working on for a couple of months.  It is from the point of view of an unsuccessful writer.  Lika hera hera go:

I’ve been published a couple of times.  I even won a contest in a magazine for a story about a hippy playing the bongoes.  I’ll summarize it for you:  The hippy’s dog keeps barking and barking, yap yap yap, while the guy is there trying to get into a groove on his bongoes.  But the hippy has to keep stopping to correct the dog.  The first time he says to the dog, “come on man," in kind of a whiney voice.  But when he tries to play again, the dog starts barking, so the hippy gets a little mad.  He snaps at the dog “shut up Leonard!” And okay, the dog is quiet, he has learned his lesson.   The hippy starts playing again just for a minute to where he is really getting into it.  His beeds are rattling and his head is shaking.  His hair is flying and he’s looking up at the sky for that moment, for that one thing, that clear tunnel that sucks you in like a vacuum tube and your just some light piece of dust.  He’s looking for it.  When he’s right at the edge (its like the lip of a glass, all rounded over and he see’s it like a blue horizon) the dog starts yapping again.  The hippy throws down his bongoes, snapping them apart, and kicks the dog hard in the side. 

The story was published two years after giving up on graduate school, in a pretty obscure magazine that I don’t think exists anymore.  I got the idea when I overheard my neighbor doing pretty much what I described.  I had just returned from some place that I can’t remember.  Work probably.  I was maybe thirty.  I was feeling pretty dismal, though thinking about it now I can’t say why I was so sad all the time.  The piercing yelp of the dog when that hippy kicked him in the ribs made me laugh out loud.  I was delighted to see someone who was wearing the uniform of tranquilty acting so viscious, so full of wrath.  I can’t remember if I thought of myself as the hippy or the dog.  We switch sides that way.

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