I pulled the files off my rapidly declining iBook in haste last fall. It wasn’t until last night that I started going through them in any detail, mostly in hopes of sparking some creative mojo. So, following is some of the more interesting (to me, at least) nuggets from iBook 2004-2008. Some genuinely entertaining, some ironically entertaining.
A Random Quote from Maria Bamford
“Holding myself to an impossible standard of beauty keeps me from starting a riot!”
Misc. Fiction
“Any new years resolutions?”
“Hmmmm. Finish this house. And- just finish this house by the end of March. You?”
Heather thought for a moment. Not be a bitch? Be more loving, more patient, more honest, less self-centered, less angry…
“I’d like to lose about ten pounds.”
———
Thirteen years of Catholic school had worked a lecherous alchemy on each and every one of them, transforming them into equal parts Archie Bunker and the Dukes of Hazzard boys.
———
Hannah smiled. “Jessica gave me invaluable advice about you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Like when we first started dating, she said she knew you were interested in me, because you started showering regularly.”
“Ok.”
“And,” Hannah said, pushing her water glass to the edge of the table as a waitress approached with a pitcher., “she warned me about your pink shorts.”
Paul smirked. “What about the pink shorts?”
“Do you remember the time I came over and you were sitting there on the couch in your pink shorts next to the wet towel?”
“No. Tell me.”
“You were sitting there on the couch in your pink shorts, next to the wet towel. I asked you why there were was a wet towel on the couch.”
“Uh-huh.” Paul waved a waitress back over, and gestured for the check.
“And you said it was because you were sitting on it. Then I asked you why you were sitting on a wet towel, and you said that your shorts were wet.”
“I remember this.”
“And I asked you why your shorts were wet, and you said you had just gotten out of the shower. And then I asked you why you were wearing your shorts in the shower… and you said ‘because they were dirty.’”
“I think it makes perfect sense.”
“Of course you do, you weirdo.”
“Hey, I needed to be cleaned. The shorts needed to be cleaned… I was doing it just for you.”
———
Random Nazi Quote (Herman Goerring)
“…after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.”
Misc. Drama
Scene
An apartment bedroom. The kitchen is offstage. Andrea and Ryan are getting it on. She is in her underwear, he is in jeans and shirtless, with a bandana on his head.
Andrea
(coyly)
Let’s try something.
Ryan
What?
Andrea
Ever play with food?
Ryan
No.
Andrea
(takes the bandana from his head, blindfolds herself, and stretches out on the bed)
Surprise me.
(Ryan goes to the kitchen off stage and returns with a package of American cheese slices. He loudly unwraps one, and when he drops it onto Andrea’s stomach, it lands with a loud slap. He does this a few more times, on her stomach and legs, until she sits up and takes off the bandana.)
Cheese? What the hell?
Ryan
It’s the only thing I had in the fridge.
Andrea
I was thinking whipped cream, chocolate sauce, cherries… even ice cubes.
Ryan
The icemaker is broken. But I think there’s also some capers in there.
Andrea
Why do you have capers?
Ryan
They might be from the last tenant.
Andrea
Ew. (She peels a piece of cheese off her body and eats it.)
God, I just wanted to do something sexy. Something new.
Ryan
(peels another piece of cheese off of her and eats it.)
I’m sorry. I could run to the minute mart and get whatever you want.
Andrea
And instead we’re just sitting here eating cheese, like any other Saturday night.
(She stands up and starts putting on her clothes, which are in a pile near the bed.)
Let’s go out.
Misc. Whatever
Now I lay me down to rest
Please get me the fuck out of the midwest
———
Helen A. Handbasket
Excerpts from a Story about a Conference
The rest of the group showed up, descending on the table like a flock of middle-aged Canadian geese, dropping purse straps over chairs, and squawking about the heat, and about how Ethiopian food should be a fun new experience, and who knew those people actually had food? Everyone seemed to know each other well. Karen sipped her water, arranged her napkin in her lap a few times, and aligned the spoons next to her plate.
*
Karen passed a bank sign on her way back to the hotel that said the temperature was still ninety-seven degrees. She was sweating under her arms and above her lip, but she was energized by the two drinks, the good food, and the swampy overhang of trees down the old streets. At the Topaz, she sank into one of the bar’s smoldering velvet booths with a 7&7 and just watched the people around her. She thought about how the half-oval of the both in deep red velvet kind of looked like a mouth -an evil mouth- and the notched black table like a tongue, and then again that night felt like walking around in some one’s mouth. As her drink cooled her own mouth and warmed her chest, she smiled broadly at the image. She imagined scaling teeth, rolling herself over them like an action hero between bites, hiding hotly under a tongue to avoid being swallowed. She wondered what it would be like if she maybe ran into some one else in the mouth, like the ladies who were staying at the Sheraton and complaining endlessly about the heat. They would stand there, leaning against the teeth, like they were the cool marble walls, fanning themselves with conference programs and talking about how they might as well not even wear makeup in the mouth because it all just slides right off, and they had no idea that DC could be such a mouth, and then Karen thought that it would be great if they just grabbed onto the lips so that she could tell them that they, too, really, truly, sucked.
*
When the waitress returned, he signaled that Karen should have a refill as well. Karen reached for her purse.
“On me,” he said, interrupting himself. They waited for a moment, for her drink. Mike Hemming stared at the bar. Karen looked down at her left hand. Surely, he had noticed her wedding ring. Karen’s drink arrived, and he just focused on her, looking right at her and through her, and around her all at once.
“Thank you,” she said. After a big sip, she looked him up and down a few times, and before he could speak again, she said, “Can you talk about anything other than work?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” His eyes darted left, and settled on the people in the lobby.
“At the conference, yes. But weren’t you just talking today about a personal connection being the most persuasive element in making a sale?” She tried to find his gaze, but he was still focused on the people in the lobby. Through the floor, she could feel his knee bouncing under the table.
“What am I selling you?”
“I don’t know, your book? I would have bought a copy anyway. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
The liquor had made her bold. There must be some smartasses walking around in her mouth. “Because you just came over here, sat down, asked me a bunch of questions, then jumped in without even really listening to the answer.”
“That would make me a lousy salesperson.”
Karen thought about hitting him. Just leaning all the way over the table, like she was going to caress his cheek or kiss him, then swinging her right arm around, and socking her fist into his head. It would be loud. “Depends on what you’re selling, I guess.” Karen took another big swig of her drink and sank down into the booth. She rested her head on the big velvet back of the bench and let out a sound that was sort of a laugh and sort of a sigh. Mike Hemming was looking out at the lobby again.
