damn.
"It looks like Bukowski exploded in here."
I turned to the blasted open door with that expectant nonchalance that always needs to be written into scripts, where Dana was removing her purple knitted scarf. My response was words on my end, but just a crack of dry throat to her. The reference, I suspected, was to the overflowing ash trays and the empty beers and the strewn clothes and books--though I never took Bukowski for much of a reader, to be completely honest. Peeling myself from my laptop, I grabbed a glass from the dresser and headed for the fridge pretending not to remember that the only thing inside was far-past-due milk and the cardboard comfort of day-old Chinese.
When I finally got back to the bedroom with a cup of tap water, she was sucking clothes up off the floor into magnetized arms.
"I'd appreciate if you'd not pigeonhole me like that, miss." I added the "miss" to cloak the sincerity of it. I get Kerouac a lot, too. Always from people who've never read my nor any of the aforementioned's work. It's offensive in the same way as being told you look like some shitty band's lead singer. "They're figureheads, ya know? The writers for readers who don't like to read."
"Whatever," she deflected, lifting a clink-clanking trash bag toward the door.
I turned to the blasted open door with that expectant nonchalance that always needs to be written into scripts, where Dana was removing her purple knitted scarf. My response was words on my end, but just a crack of dry throat to her. The reference, I suspected, was to the overflowing ash trays and the empty beers and the strewn clothes and books--though I never took Bukowski for much of a reader, to be completely honest. Peeling myself from my laptop, I grabbed a glass from the dresser and headed for the fridge pretending not to remember that the only thing inside was far-past-due milk and the cardboard comfort of day-old Chinese.
When I finally got back to the bedroom with a cup of tap water, she was sucking clothes up off the floor into magnetized arms.
"I'd appreciate if you'd not pigeonhole me like that, miss." I added the "miss" to cloak the sincerity of it. I get Kerouac a lot, too. Always from people who've never read my nor any of the aforementioned's work. It's offensive in the same way as being told you look like some shitty band's lead singer. "They're figureheads, ya know? The writers for readers who don't like to read."
"Whatever," she deflected, lifting a clink-clanking trash bag toward the door.