This is classic. Classic me, that is. I've written extensively about the fact that I do not keep organized—or really even legible—notes. I scribble ideas down constantly. My purse pockets overflow with paper scraps, junk mail corners, grocery lists gone bad. I find notes in every pocket, in every cranny, often on my own skin.
Luckily, the memos that I truly need linger in my mind. I work stories over and over mentally before I put the words to paper (or keyboard).
But yesterday I pulled a faded scribble out of the pocket of a coat I hadn't worn in a long, long time and left the bit of rumpled paper by my computer. When I had a moment, I tried to decipher the words, making out: "warm, moist teabag..." I got that far, and I thought, Okay, oral. It's an oral story. But about what? Next word seemed to be "gaze." I thought, Gaze. He's gazing down at her? Or perhaps there's a third person. Someone's staring at the two lovers from across the room. Or across a balcony? There was another scribble, Until tomorrow. What was that about? Oooh, maybe she had promised him oral, but would not deliver "until tomorrow." He'd have to think about her warm, moist mouth on him...
(Honestly, I have to say I was a little hesitant, as "moist" is not a word I pull off the shelf often—but that didn't mean I couldn't.)
Next line, "Intense pain." This might have stopped some people, but not me. Hmmm. How did *that* fit in? Where was I going with this story? Then I read a doctor's name, and the fog began to lift. These were the notes I took when I had my wisdom teeth out. Warm moist teabag was to bite on after the fact. Gaze, was in fact, merely, gauze.
Lovely. Just lovely.
Now, where did I put my fucking tea?
XXX,
Alison
P.S. Comment for a chance to win this fabulous I'm Hot tea diffuser. Why? Because I'm in a gauzing—I mean, giving—sort of mood.
13 comments:
How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth out?
Just goes to show how our perception or interpretation of life changes.
Now to write a story about your dentist and tea bags!
In my thirties. All four at once. The only fun part was the pain meds.
XXX,
AT
Oh, fuck, that's hilarious :D
I was going to upload a photo of my notes, so you can see for yourself. But I've lost them, of course. They'll turn up in a few years, and I'll go through the whole thing again...
XXX,
AT
I was thirty-five when I got all four out. The dentists have been telling me I needed to get them removed since I was twelve, but I resist. It was both a good and bad thing since the process of removing one of them severed the nerves and I lost some feeling in my tongue (it constantly tingles and things aren't spicy anymore).
But, I love the ideas you get on pain medication. Implementing them, on the other hand, is not so easy.
(I don't need the diffuser, I just like participating.)
That's hysterical. My mind went all sorts of places when I read that - of course none of them were to the dentists chair. But then again, why not?
LOL. I do the same thing. I find scraps littering every corner of my existence. You should listen to the Paul Brandt song "Scrap Piece of Paper". He's a Canadian country artist, and it's out of your genre, but you will definitely appreciate the humor.
t'Sade, that's an awful story :(
grrr, dentistry :/
Oh, I didn't see the diffuser prize! That's lovely, but I don't need it either - my drawers overfloweth with too much Stuff. And postage is too much to here, too. xx
Jo,
It is what it is. But, I'm fond of looking at the silver lining in most clouds. In this case, my willingness to go down on Fluffy has increased dramatically. She was always a been a bit spicy... :P
http://tsade.com/shadowed-earth/bridled
I did write a story in the drug-addled haze of getting my teeth removed. In this case, it was a little BDSM story called Bridled.
No one has ever commented on it, so I don't know if its any good. But, apparently I equate getting wisdom teeth removed with making enough room for a bridle and pony play.
ha! that is pretty awesome.
I end up with notes everywhere too... overwhelming. I tuck them away in a large binder. Should likely go through the, actually...
The other thing I do (and have always done) is write down one word, secure in the knowledge that the single word will remind me of the scene I want to write. This never works. I don't know when I'll learn (clearly not yet). Because I end up with a string of lonely terms and nothing to go with them, like:
Midnight
Kafka
Boycot
Zero and Zero
Old Stranger
No joke. Those are scribbles circulating on my desk right now.
XXX,
Alison
That was hilarious. I was surprised to see "moist," too, as a story snippet from you.
Of course, now you MUST write a story called Warm Moist Teabag. Or perhaps edit an entire anthology of that name. Heck, now *I'm* wanting to write a story about wisdom teeth extraction. A lot of my stories feature pain meds because they're such a necessary part of life for me.
When I got my wisdom teeth removed, I developed something called "Dry socket," which is when the tissue grows in too fast over the top, leaving an empty space. This causes intense headaches. I just had to go back a couple of times for sterile gauze to be packed into the cavity until it had filled in enough on its own.
Now, what can I write that uses "teabag," "warm, moist," and "socket"? ;-)
If you can make Dry Socket sexy, you should win a prize :)
Maybe a cigarette holder, or something.. ?
Hahahaha! I cannot believe I found this shirt!
XXX,
Alison
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