Writing

Potpie for Dinner

[BRADLEY] “Jerry?“

[JERRY] ”Yeah, Bradley?“

[BRADLEY] ”Where are we?“

[JERRY] ”I ain’t quite sure, but I can smell that fruit gettin’ close, and I ain’t stoppin’ till I find it!“

[BRADLEY] ”Shouldn’t we be getting back to the pad?“

[JERRY] ”Goddammit, Bradley! You wanna be eatin’ mold your whole damned life?“

[BRADLEY] ”But I can’t see a thing, Jerry. I’m scared!“

[JERRY] ”Well, me neither, but Jes’ stay close, and you’ll be fine!“

An Average Day (An Imperative Only Exercise)

Look at yourself in the mirror this morning. See the lines of failure drawn out from the points of your eyes. Remember that face before they were there. Ask yourself what you were doing before those were there. Consider, for a moment, what you could be doing today, instead of what you have to do.

Think of something encouraging to shake off the melancholy. Chuckle at the silliness of this ritual of self-pity, turn toward the shower, and step in. Feel the ceramic chill of the bathroom, as it rattles your frame. Hear the grumbling of the apartment building’s pipes, as the water prepares to vent out the shower nozzle. Prepare yourself for the shock. Wince, and clench your fists.