Write Live

"If we are all alone here then here we are not alone", surmised thedope. "Writers can be so melodramatic. Even those who are on the range are home home where the queer and cantaloupe play."

 

"Surmise surmise" laughed Dejavu, grinning at the degree of thedopes 'we'. He found himself alone as usual.

 

Storch knew of how it is that people come together, and how they sometimes flow apart. It didn’t seem fair. But he had been told numerous times in the past that no one ever said that life is fair. He had to agree that whomever it was that didn’t say it certainly knew what they weren’t talking about. He understood that whole families can be torn apart by lots of things. It can happen because of money, jealousy, tactless criticism of another’s spouse, etc. His own family became divided after one Thanksgiving when the conversation at the dinner table turned to his Uncle Gomer. His Uncle Gomer was shot to death during a bank robbery this past spring. He was at the bank waiting in line to cash his welfare check when three masked men walked in and told everyone to not move. One of the robbers pointed his gun toward everyone and said, “Are there any heroes in here? HUH?”

As luck would have it, Gomer had rescued a helpless puppy from an old well just three weeks earlier. So he raised his hand and said in a prideful tone, “Yup, right here.” Those were Gomer’s last words. He took a slug to his chest and collapsed to the floor, dead. The robber said, “Any other heroes in here?” There was a man named Barney who had recently risked life and limb rescuing a cat from a tree during a severe thunder storm. He was going to raise his hand when the robber had first asked, but Storch’s Uncle Gomer beat him to it. So, Barney kept it to himself when the robber asked the second time, deciding that it just wasn’t worth mentioning right then.

Storch’s family members were split as to whether Gomer’s death was the result of a total lack of intelligence or a complete lack of humility. After a heated discussion, during which other examples of Gomer’s total lack of intelligence were brought to light, dinner ended early, with Gomer-defenders getting up and putting their coats on and fishing for their car keys. The two sides haven’t spoken to each other since.

 

Dejavu laughed. He was sure he and storch were somehow family, on whatever side of the gomer divide their sympathies chose or chose not to hide. Def sentences like this made him luxuriate in lifes beauty. Lifes ugliness, its great unintelligence, was so funnily dumb at such times.

 

"Too dead too die," whispered the little mouse as she finishes the last of the wine.

 

Storch tried to think of something to say. "You are good! You are worthy!" He hoped it would have good effect. He recalled when once he was heartbroken and took a dive into a seemingly bottomless reservoir of red wine. Morning would come. Always mourning would come. One morning his friend said to him, "Storch, I think that if you don't go to the hospital this morning, you're going to die." Storch wasn't worried. He thought to himself, you have to feel a lot better than this before you can die.

How true it is that the heart wants what the heart wants. The heart desires to be complete . . . to be whole. Is the heart a victim of the decision of another's heart? Much like the answer to many questions, the answer is yes and no.

 

...you're back then, where your audience awaits and maybe where you finally see that this is not fantasy, fancy phrases, and a bit of writing practice this livewriting lark, this is more real than dailylife you know... a couple of new posts from elsewhere then to cheer you up a bit...

"...I have a little mouse..." chuckles Jats settled in for an early night "...living under the floor of the tee-pee, I think, for I have only seen it dart out of the corner of my eye a couple of times as I have changed the gas bottle, or moved one of the smoke flap poles when the wind has changed from east to west.." Jats munches on a jaffa cake "...a little field mouse perhaps, or possibly a vole which will be hiding from the sharp eyed owls that I haven't seen too neither, yet, though they are about having heard the odd call as they search for their winter roosts now under the light of some of the most beautiful big red harvest moons that I have ever seen, plus the undoutable evidence of the Tawny owl tail-feather I found in the woods that sits in the top of my guitar now.." Jats smiles at himself waffling on and shoving in Jaffa cake number two then before continuing "...yes I'll keep my little mouse safe, let if feed off my crumbs, but any bringing mates round causing chaos, damaging my shit, and it will be frightened back into the wilderness with it to take its chances then..." chuckles Jats again and then closes the door liner to the world ready to hit the hay now

 

"...I found my little mouse..." smiles Jats finally tucked up for the night here with the fire on and getting rid of some of the dampness of the last two days where it has finally rained a little, but no leaks to speak of yet, only a few drips here and there that can be trained and caught with an ozan above the bed, that has yet to be made "...yes there it was, a little field mouse seen clearly when clearing out one of the old army ammo boxes which is to be used as a log store now, sitting in the corner frightened and looking up at me with its sweet little face for a brief moment before darting back down the little hole that it had been using to come nibble the fishing bait that was stored in there, and obviously having no comprehension that I wouldn't harm it at all, just shoo it back into the wild to take it's chances there as that's what it's used to and how it has survived, so I've just blocked the hole up with something heavy cus I can't have it biting through everything..." reports Jats, very worn out here from helping a lovely loving couple celebrate the wife getting the all clear from cancer and enjoying seeing how their perspective on life has shifted so, where Jats has noticed by it that he's getting back to normalish now and quite looking forward to a day of humdrum washing and cleaning and doing a few tweaks to the teepee all in his dressing gown with music coming out of the teepee drifting through Jats little camp in the corner with Jats in his shorts in the blazing sunshine doing his chores then, and with hope returning now, though Jats break up was six months or so ago and so feels for luckyme then going through the pain and knowing there is nothing at all he can say, though tries anyway adding "...your free... remember to write now, it will help, somehow..." and Jats worries for the little mouse again, especially when last night he was stalked in the woods by the killer cat he had heard of, but that's another post

 

"Words are gone, as my life has left me," the little mouse sighs and prepares to go out and try to secure more work that will keep her busy. "Too busy to think, too busy too feel, yet too empty too enjoy it all. Life is a struggle and love should have been what made it worth struggling through life, but now that love has left, there is only an empty shell and ..." The little mouse shakes her head as she wipes away a stray tear. "There's always predators that will hunt mice, but even a little mouse can roar, but sometimes they just hide and keep to themselves with only a select few let into her hideyhole." She sits and shivers as she imagines Jats in his tipi with water dripping on his bed. "Stay dry, warm, and find happiness, Jats."

 

"Hope, how funny things turn out to be," the little mouse sighs and adds, "When one finds hope and joy in little things and their life turns back to normal, another finds nothing but dust and emptiness. No, Jats, writing does not help if the only words left are. 'No more.'"

 

How sad that even my no more is taken by the other as no more to them. I just don't want to feel all this anymore. No more of this pain, please why can't we be happy? That was the no more, but I guess, their interpretation of my words reminds me of how they constantly got everything wrong, this is not out of character then.
When I wrote no more, I just wanted it all to stop, no more of this stupid unhappiness, this pain that hadn't been happening now had things not been let out of hand by both. I was reaching out to you in my way, which again you took as rejection. I thirst for your words, your smile, your loving arms, ache when I'm not working, and for the record, I have been drunk once in the past weeks and that was with xxx, who isn't single.

 

("...give us more of that pain there, for afterwards you're empty perhaps..." suggested the goblin lying of course because it never really ends does it, not for those in too deep, smiling "...no, one could walk away whenever, but that pact with the muse is written in one's nature by now...", where the goblin could play the wizard of oz to the mouse's dorathy if she liked, but like that wizard there the goblin too would be a fake who could only offer her a journey to self each time with all sorts of pains and recollections upon it, smiling "...and how you and I know this from the inside too, where many times those ghosts have haunted me still, and yes I too have those feedback dreams as well, where I can asure you now I'm about the sanest person that I know of, yet it's the writing itself that is the madness of it, but when I stop is when it gets worse, for then I am alone to live in the regret of not having known what I might have written in sending her away like this...", at which point the goblin put a cupped hand up to his ear)

 

"Thank you XXXX for reminding me why," the little mouse says as she stretches out on the new sofa.

 

...Dejavu had been playing tunes in Luckys thread.

 

"What better mouse trap than maudlin reflection," thought thedope. "Sadly sober vermin flee upon buoyant inflection...or retire to a long nap on the couch."

 

Dejavu still couldn't seem to settle on a piece of music to post.

 

Moonglow felt happy to see Dejavu post.

 

"Hi Moon!" called Dejavu. "You make me happy too!" Dejavu was now waiting to see how Lucky liked being referred to as vermin by thedope, whose 'ebullience' seemed to be based on bull. "How's your god hanging thedope?"

 

"Like a stud," replied thedope to Dejavu's queeryness. "I would think any rat would find it preferable to be smilingly soused than sadly sober"

 

thedope wondered if the moon glowed full this evening...