Monday, October 17, 2005

Oh My Gosh Josh, It's Fiction!

So, as always, the preface. I don't normally write fiction (i am a drunk poet but not drunk at the moment). Not only that, I do not normally write fiction that is dialogue heavy. I feel like I am drowning in a lack of what people should say, and where they are going with the conversation, probably since it lacks plot whatsoever (but then again, so did the entirety of the sun also rises). I think if my dialoue seems like a normal conversation, and I have a couple of scotches, I can get over this whole "Where is it going thing?" Anyone have a roadmap i could borrow?

One beer two beer shakesbeer

Outside St. Andrew’s Hall

“Hey, hows it going?” Ben said propping the door to the alley with a cinder block.

“Fine,” said a hipster high school guy who was sitting on a broken bench in the alley next to St. Andrews. He sat smoking a cigarette through a frown.

“Can I bum a light from you?” Ben said with a gesture that showed his own
cigarette in hand. The kid lit the cigarette.

“Mind if I pull up a cinder block?”

“Go ahead.”

“So,” Ben started then exhaled smoke. “What brings you to this fine alley on a Thursday?”

The kid looked up, looked back down and mumbled. “I was supposed to meet someone for the show.”

“But they didn’t come, did they?”

“Or they went in without me, I arrived on time, but they had the tickets. She
probably doesn’t care one way or the other.”

They both sat silent for a minute. The kid pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “You know, things sometimes just shouldn’t happen. I have been waiting to see Death Cab for like a year, and they finally come, and I am going, but it doesn’t happen.”

“I know what you mean, its like that one song where the lines go she looked so beautiful but it didn’t mean a thing to me. Except it is her who doesn’t care this time,” Ben said.

“Yeah, it’s like that, and it hurts. But you just can’t do anything about it, someone who feels like that. I mean, it just doesn’t make sense, so it doesn’t make sense to agonize over it all.”

“You got it. I had something happened to me like that.”
“What happened?” the kid asked.

“Well. I travel a lot. And she didn’t like it and started meeting people while I was gone. I figured as much. But I didn’t do anything about it cause I had convinced myself that she was never important to me. She was, but it was easier to just hide in an excuse.

“I did eventually confront her, but it was too late. And that made things ugly. That’s when we said all the things that shouldn’t have been said and so on. Now a great way to end a great relationship.”

A man stuck his head out the door and said, “Ben, almost time. About ten minutes before Pedro wraps up their set.”

“Thanks Dave,” Ben said from his cinder block.

“So you are Ben, from the band?” the kid asked.

“That’s me.”

“You seem like a normal guy.”

“I am just like any other guy. Listen to music, fall in love, fall out of love, like baseball, usual stuff guys often like.”

“I mean, well, I always think of musicians as larger than life, but you just seem to live.”


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