Writing in my basement and Notes
I'm sitting here listening to Nick Drake in my basement, which makes me think of Harry Potter because of the Mandrakes. I'm thinking about my screenplay but I can't imagine writing anything that I would want to see. I was in the process of opening my Microsoft Word application when I suddenly thought about Livejournal. Then I started wondering if there were other sites that were like Livejournal but was not Livejournal. Then I thought about Blogspot which kind of reminds me, I have a Blogspot. I guess I was just not meant to stay on one project for two long.
I'm writing a story, it starts with a tree. I was looking outside my window one day and was thinking, just thinking and thinking and you know what? Nothing happened. Then I started to really look at things and I saw stories in trees, in houses, in trucks making the midnight runs.
I stared so hard at the tree that I thought that it would burst into flames. Then I stopped and wondered if the tree would be offended so I just glanced over momentarily. It said, "Look at my roots and see where they go. Look at me I am a tree. Look beyond my leaves and where do I go. I grow towards the center of a molten ball of metal, though I am merely a tree that grows in your back yard. Remember when your dad planted me in front of your window and told you I would provide you with shade in later years? I'm sorry I still am the remnants of a shrub, but listen, I'm really happy you stopped to talk to me".
Outside my window there are lamp posts going down the lane of houses. Pretty much like any neighborhood. In the summer you can see the clusters of mosquitoes lunging back and forth in the the misty lights of this certain lamp post in front of my house. The days in August are so heavy, it feels like the air is heavier than a light blanket. It's so hot that when you look up at the light coming from these lamp posts, it doesn't even freak you out when you see these mosquitoes flying around in front of it. "Good for them, you think. It's a good summer's night."
It was one of those weird nights. Not weird as in, my mother is suddenly a zombie, that would be really weird. I'm talking about those summer nights where your friend appears on your doorstep and you end up taking a walk. It's not a normal walk because its dark but so warm, yet cool. Time just freezes until dawn. Everything looks different at night and its so strange and in that moment you and your friend have formed a connection that doesn't have any particular meaning, yet you will remember this night when you start thinking random moments that you kind of miss. Then your friend will leave and suddenly you were alone. As though for the first time you realized it was possible to be alone. Instead, of being alone, however, remember the lamp post.
What's so special about lamp posts? There that song about them and they keep cars from crashing on dark night, maybe not foggy nights because fogs can be a bitch. They point straight up, not in different directions. Their closest friends are the swarms of mosquitoes. I looked up towards the lamp with questioning eyes as though I was going to ask a question, but I don't. The lamp answers me nonetheless, "Yes honey, I am in lamp post. Go ahead and look at me with those questioning eyes but actually see me. I point up but my lamp post friend in China points up too. We point outwards into the universe in all directions. We're pointing and calling for a signal but does anything see us out there?"
I'm writing a story, it starts with a tree. I was looking outside my window one day and was thinking, just thinking and thinking and you know what? Nothing happened. Then I started to really look at things and I saw stories in trees, in houses, in trucks making the midnight runs.
I stared so hard at the tree that I thought that it would burst into flames. Then I stopped and wondered if the tree would be offended so I just glanced over momentarily. It said, "Look at my roots and see where they go. Look at me I am a tree. Look beyond my leaves and where do I go. I grow towards the center of a molten ball of metal, though I am merely a tree that grows in your back yard. Remember when your dad planted me in front of your window and told you I would provide you with shade in later years? I'm sorry I still am the remnants of a shrub, but listen, I'm really happy you stopped to talk to me".
Outside my window there are lamp posts going down the lane of houses. Pretty much like any neighborhood. In the summer you can see the clusters of mosquitoes lunging back and forth in the the misty lights of this certain lamp post in front of my house. The days in August are so heavy, it feels like the air is heavier than a light blanket. It's so hot that when you look up at the light coming from these lamp posts, it doesn't even freak you out when you see these mosquitoes flying around in front of it. "Good for them, you think. It's a good summer's night."
It was one of those weird nights. Not weird as in, my mother is suddenly a zombie, that would be really weird. I'm talking about those summer nights where your friend appears on your doorstep and you end up taking a walk. It's not a normal walk because its dark but so warm, yet cool. Time just freezes until dawn. Everything looks different at night and its so strange and in that moment you and your friend have formed a connection that doesn't have any particular meaning, yet you will remember this night when you start thinking random moments that you kind of miss. Then your friend will leave and suddenly you were alone. As though for the first time you realized it was possible to be alone. Instead, of being alone, however, remember the lamp post.
What's so special about lamp posts? There that song about them and they keep cars from crashing on dark night, maybe not foggy nights because fogs can be a bitch. They point straight up, not in different directions. Their closest friends are the swarms of mosquitoes. I looked up towards the lamp with questioning eyes as though I was going to ask a question, but I don't. The lamp answers me nonetheless, "Yes honey, I am in lamp post. Go ahead and look at me with those questioning eyes but actually see me. I point up but my lamp post friend in China points up too. We point outwards into the universe in all directions. We're pointing and calling for a signal but does anything see us out there?"