This is the fifth place to find me on the internet. Please don't tell me I need a sixth.
483. The Possessed by Elif Batuman
484. The Liar by Henry James
485. The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury
486. Darkwater: Voices from Within...
I think I might have just finished Act 2 of my screenplay. I mean, I might have. I have to double check. (And I need to sort of write a sex...
Looked up online the name of the best poet from my high school. His name popped into my head, don’t know why, who ever knows why someone from the past pops into your head except that there is some kind of hole that needs filling.
He was dreamy and sharp-jawed and smelled good and was sort of a jock (or at least friends with them) but still a writer somehow even if it was not a cool thing to be. He was a few years older than me, but he might as well have been in college so vast was the gap between us. We were in the same after school writing workshop my freshman year. Crush does not cover it. He talked once about his fascination with things being written in lists of threes or being broken into three parts and it stuck with me forever and I write that way too. Three parts. Not halves. Beginning middle and end.
Now he works in accounting, I learned. His bio on the site talks about how he went to college to study English and philosophy but eventually he realized those two things can’t pay the bills but accounting sure does and his whole story was right there, an entire narrative waiting just for me to chew on one overcast afternoon, hazy possibilities, alternate storylines, dead ends, and I wish I hadn’t looked in the first place and that’s what you get for looking, that’s what you get.