It was the type of urban precinct that reminded you that cities had to evolve: they can't be planned
August 2, 2017 at 1:09 AM
"What's your writing process like?"
Here are some notes toward things that'll be in Demon City eventually. I have no idea in what form, but I'm someone convinced each has an idea in there somewhere...
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She’d been drinking the expensive stuff long enough that she was now back to the cheap stuff. The cracks in it had cracks in them. view of a dead section of roof It looked like the kind of modern art you’d need explained to you. There was something going on with the clouds, like they were in on it. There was a tile there He was drinking coca-cola out of one of those patterned paper cups you get in a mid-range hotel room. It was a fifteen or a sixteen—the number was rubbed off as if anyone would have a reason to molest a printed number. There isn’t any crime here. I mean—there is but there isn’t. The lawn—the whole yard—smelled like it’d just come out of a dishwasher. The booth had little tin-skinned smiling-face balloons all over it and under the chairs. It was the kind of meal you get at the kind of place you get it at when you’re trying to enjoy your first three-figure check in months. They played an entire Leonard Cohen album in between the boarding announcement. In Tallahassee. He’s a family man—you go to pop him he’ll be walking out of A Bug’s Life with his daughter and like 8 guys. I mean she’s at that age. But I guess what we need to know is was he? It’s like a mural of a beard guy with rocks—it’s allegorical, is that the word, allegorical? Anyway meet me. She finally found a corner store that didn't take EBT rectangle reflections something wrapped in insulation so much that it isn’t a known shape any morenoises, the king of unknown noises machines, air conditionings, cars, unknown machines. a hum fighting for control of the city of reality the crackling open bar the poor quality of chocolate in this country trans fats lone men walking where walking why in the googled streets towns without centers or reasons for being streets lined with some kind of trees bleak, distant, unreflected amber gas station displays snaked and locked displays spider-legs of white light the familiar taste of sugar angled roads filler construction where nothing is made, slow death garage and rubber burning gasoline kind befuddled men who have seen the worst things, cruel loud young men who have seen nothing on a colored carpet where the chip bags piled up like carp mouths on the colored and grey carpet, like plan As, like gaping out at numbered, unopened doors, hiding lives or nothing. Get a new phone case. Pass the time, this space seems to say. Pass the time and stay alive.
noises---
"Process"
2 Comments -
It's like if Bukowski lived in a David Lynch film.
August 1, 2017 at 5:53 PM
It was the type of urban precinct that reminded you that cities had to evolve: they can't be planned
August 2, 2017 at 1:09 AM