Friday, December 11, 2009

Creative Journaling

Despite my commitment to revealing less intimate details of my personal-life, I can't help but relate this particularly interesting Friday. It was during the art-walk/pub-crawl in lower-Haight. Such nights are a rarity, and luckily I brought my writer's blackbook along, just in case. These are the scribbles I took.

Keep in mind - by the by - that even though this all really happened, it's still purely fiction.

friday night at the artwalk
beat-box on the box drum
free-styling, a crowd gathers
like marijuana smoke haze
and they drop lyrics as bombs
each explodes with "ooooh!!!"
but my hands numb from this tempo
and the cold, can't tell when i blow
smoke or exhale. need a break
with one of these honeys, dripping sweetnes
from their eyes glancing in my direction.
then the drinking, and the eating, sometimes the fucking
(always sensory indulgence)
which leads to nothing
oh, maybe cum-stains and an awkward morning.
we replay the loss of clothes and pelvic thrusts,
or whether there was a condom involved,
but for now we are still
sober enough to enjoy this -- living.


0 footnotes: