Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Had another motorcycle dream last night. Sad thing is I've never been on one in my life but I could describe to you every feeling from the sliding out the clutch at the end of that big bend in the mountain curve to gasing it hard off the line and feeling that front wheel come off the ground. Last night it was blue and it was beautiful and I had a suit and gloves and a helmet to match. The visor was gleaming metal blue and my eyes were hidden. I wasn't a man I was a machine. I was part of the bike and together we were unstoppable. Maybe one day I'll buy a bike but by the time I do I'll have a bald spot and a house and college tuitions to think about and I won't be able to ride it the way I would now.

Yesterday a friend waited impatiently for me to finish reading the last few pages of the story. I'm a horribly slow reader and the uneasy stare of his eyes were saying,"just skip a few paragraphs and tell me what you think already." Like somehow my opinion matters.

It's pretty intense stuff
I tell him.

"Intense good or intense bad?"

Intense. Your trying to go after some seriously big ideas here. It's hard to do.

"I know but you've written a lot so I thought you might have some suggestions to do it better."

I dunno. I don't write like this. I write simple, stupid things.

"you mean like you use simple things as metaphors for bigger things like this?"

No. I just write about simple things.


I knew he wasn't going to get it. It just wasn't in his blood. I could stand there and watch my sister paint a portrait a thousand times but no matter how much practice I had, I never could see the lines before I put my hand on the page. The lines just come to her. The jokes come to the comedian and the numbers come to the mathematician. The words come to me. I don't see them. They just pop out. There's no fighting with the genetic code.

"so what kind of point do you try to make with the simple things?"

Point? Points are for arguers and politicians. I don't make points. I just tell people the stories of life moving slowly. Then they make up their own.

He stared at me blankly. Sentences whizzed through my head at a million miles a minute. I tried to grab on to one of them. Nothing stuck.


Blogger Mo said...

i write simple things cuz im too dumb to write anything else.

1:00 PM  

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