We Really Go Down Together!
Life of K:
Marv's fine. I got the notice today that everything got cleared up. So...really a bunch of silliness for nothing. News. News. News. I made a friend.
Diagnosis:
Baby did a bad bad thing.
Malcolm:
I have an obsession on my hands. This is a creature that I have decided to write about everyday until he realizes that I'm writing about him. I see him everywhere and he pretends not to see me because we have a history together. Or, so he tells me.
I found him in the computer lab at school. I watch him. He types fast. Short keystrokes of brilliance, I'm sure. Nothing so sparkly exists in nature - I wonder what his flaws are. He talks to a girl and inadvertantly gives me his name. I smile. Malcolm is not his name but that's the name I've given him because of our history together. It fits.
He walks outside and asks me to follow him which I do. I imitate the way he walks by stepping in the footprints his leaves in the melting snow. Short steps with a small limp or a skip in them. He has back problems. You can tell by the way he moves. He's listening to music and I can't help but think it all sounds the same. A million songs on an Ipod and every one of them exactly the same. He walks to the busstop and I watch him get on the 26.
Did I mention he has a smell? He smells of folded laundry. There is a distinctive difference in perfume between folded laundry and the stuff you leave in the basket until you've worn it all. No, he takes the time to fold each sock. Every pair of pants. I wonder if his girlfriend helps him.
There is a distinctive scent difference between a single man and a taken one. I choose to ignore both and watch the bus drive away. He won't be gone for long. He always comes back.
Diagnosis:
Good boy.
Be good.
K.
Today's Discussion Topic:
What other distinctive smells are there in the universe.
Marv's fine. I got the notice today that everything got cleared up. So...really a bunch of silliness for nothing. News. News. News. I made a friend.
Diagnosis:
Baby did a bad bad thing.
Malcolm:
I have an obsession on my hands. This is a creature that I have decided to write about everyday until he realizes that I'm writing about him. I see him everywhere and he pretends not to see me because we have a history together. Or, so he tells me.
I found him in the computer lab at school. I watch him. He types fast. Short keystrokes of brilliance, I'm sure. Nothing so sparkly exists in nature - I wonder what his flaws are. He talks to a girl and inadvertantly gives me his name. I smile. Malcolm is not his name but that's the name I've given him because of our history together. It fits.
He walks outside and asks me to follow him which I do. I imitate the way he walks by stepping in the footprints his leaves in the melting snow. Short steps with a small limp or a skip in them. He has back problems. You can tell by the way he moves. He's listening to music and I can't help but think it all sounds the same. A million songs on an Ipod and every one of them exactly the same. He walks to the busstop and I watch him get on the 26.
Did I mention he has a smell? He smells of folded laundry. There is a distinctive difference in perfume between folded laundry and the stuff you leave in the basket until you've worn it all. No, he takes the time to fold each sock. Every pair of pants. I wonder if his girlfriend helps him.
There is a distinctive scent difference between a single man and a taken one. I choose to ignore both and watch the bus drive away. He won't be gone for long. He always comes back.
Diagnosis:
Good boy.
Be good.
K.
Today's Discussion Topic:
What other distinctive smells are there in the universe.