I stood in the shower a long time and imagined getting out, taking my towel from the hook and wrapping it around my body, and then unclipping my hair and shaking it loose and bunching the curls between my fingers, and walking back to my dorm room. My room is clean. Nothing else, lately, has… Continue reading writing: the things that happened today
Category: writing
writing: screenplay, #2
[the girl's name is Mildred; she is tall, modern, and almost nervous. she is orange flowers against a blue sky, or some other equally silly and half-finished aesthetic. she is wearing overalls (stylish ones), over a thick sweater.] [her half-sister is unremarkable; she is called Alice. her greatest tragedy in life has been the death… Continue reading writing: screenplay, #2
writing: screenplay, #1
[a boy and a girl, both mid-teens. each rather drab-looking; not Hollywood ordinary, just ordinary. sitting with their legs between the iron slats of a balcony. crows and city noise in the background. a cornflower blue sky, some clouds] the girl: I can't even talk to him, not anymore. It's driving me crazy. the boy:… Continue reading writing: screenplay, #1
writing: untitled november 2018
him: so. her: hi. him: do you want to marry me? her: her: i barely know you. him: so? her: when you come over and say hi to me when i'm working part of me wants to ask you to go buy me a coffee because i'm always tired and i'm dying for a coffee.… Continue reading writing: untitled november 2018
writing: in her head
In her head, there were wild bright things. She sat in her van with her hand dangling over the wheel and her pale blue eyes raw from crying. She sat there for a long time, Mr. Brightside flickering against the radio static. It was indie alt-rock station; listening to music that wasn't strictly mainstream made… Continue reading writing: in her head
writing: i don’t want to see you ever again
I don't want to see you ever again, he said. She paused; nodded bravely. She was crying. Her hair was hanging in her face and his fingers twitched looking at it, some involuntary memory coming from earlier palm-scented mornings when he would lean over the sheets and brush it behind her ears and kiss her… Continue reading writing: i don’t want to see you ever again
writing: there is only so much a person can take
There is only so much a person can take before they lose themselves. It's a sort of cracking, with the pieces falling away like blood-music, like the skinny feathers you can't hold in your hands with the memories coming like fire and water; it's your mother looking at you in the kitchen and shaking her… Continue reading writing: there is only so much a person can take
writing: are you okay
Are you okay, she said to him. He was crouched in the bathroom with his fingers clamped over his wrist and his wrists pulled into his chest. She was next to him; she was so close to him that her hair kept brushing against his lips and his nose, but it was not romantic. He… Continue reading writing: are you okay
writing: mostly, i am made of nothing
Mostly, I am made of nothing. There is a part in life when you realize that, ultimately, you have failed and what you're doing has no point. Religion, ambition--those things matter. But I was standing alone and thinking this and people were streaming past me, and I didn't see where the mattering came into contact… Continue reading writing: mostly, i am made of nothing
the last pavilion 