Batting practice

Sometimes before I sit down to “write” (about twice a year), I loosen up with a little batting practice – just, you know, writing whatever comes to mind. Usually this nonsense goes straight in the trash, to be followed shortly by whatever serious, feature-type bit I attempt to write afterwards.

Once in a while the results are just embarassing enough, though, to publish shamelessly. This is from mid- to late-2000, judging from various personal subject matter clues. The subconscious is a frightening thing.

Before We Begin:

I vomited up the little bits. It was the technicolor of Supreme Sea Spray, my old favorite juice flavor.

Consider it done, Your Highness.

Yes, the payment has been made.

Unfortunately, your breath stinks too badly for me to even consider doing that right now.

Vicarious consumption, eating patterns unblemished by ruin.

Thousands of times, yes.

No, I never have. When did you?

Cars kept passing us, I thought he was going to actually stop in the middle of the road.

Even on the second date, you wouldn’t?

God, I hate this kind of cornice piece. Look at that fucking dental molding.

The crows kept making noise outside the window, and I couldn’t finish. I looked right in her eyes and I couldn’t finish.

Reset color geom size center.

Warp and weft, man, warp and weft.

She dove under and the current just carried her right into its mouth. Bit her in half, they said.

It’ll sting you, that’s for sure. Don’t go in there.

This bottle’s mostly full. Use this one. No, use this one. It’s pretty full.

I hate the way your butt pokes out of those jeans. Get some real pants for God’s sake.

This money’s not worth the shit it’s printed on.

I haven’t escaped, I’ve just been forcing myself to stay in there this whole time. Wouldn’t you?

I mean, look at her. She’s like teeth on a chainsaw blade.

The rain keeps blowing in the blinds and they keep knocking over the things on the window ledge.

Her hair. Nothing is like her hair. Her hair is like Nothing.

Lose the robe, baby, let’s get this show on the road. Ok, lights!

Haven’t you got the foggiest idea how long it took me to get those in there?