Just looking through some old sketch books i found a hand full of stories i wrote or started to write last summer. amazes me how i can't really place myself in that mind state right now even though it was such a short time ago. I do know i was up late drinking whiskey with lime juice at an old Mac in the woods outside portland, and apparently very bitter and apathetic. Figured i'd share a few, because it's my blog and don't want to make music wednesday yet.
1. She thought he had a knack for laughing, at least at night he did. This only could be attributed it to the drinks and the drugs really, which made sense considering there wasn't much else anymore. she could fall in love with that laugh all night, but in the morning they were silent and sick. Together alone.
2. "I always had a thing for girls with bad teeth" He said softly with alcohol drenched honesty. She didn't reply and thoughts wandered to his years of braces, rubber bands, sterile smells that occupy white orthodontists office. One long pull from his cigarette and he refocuses, not on her, but back into his drink. "I didn't want to go out tonight" One sip. "These sort of situations never work out, at least not how i see them in my head" Self loathing began to seep through every pore. One sip. She smiled, and again he found his eyes fixed on her teeth. Those awkward years with braces had been pretty rough, but at least when they tightened the rubber bands he kept his mouth shut a little bit more. He had needed a few lessons in keeping his mouth shut back then, he needed a few lessons in keeping his mouth shut tonight. She placed her hand on his arm and tugged, he refocused. Her eyes were empty. Dead eyes. Bad teeth. A horrible listener. Daddy issues. She was wasted and he was bored. "Everyone goes out on friday night, meets someone, and fakes it to get each other into bed..." She looked blank "I could try my hardest to fuck you tonight, but tomorrow morning we would have nothing in common..."she scrunched up her nose, he thought it looked cute "...but I still like your teeth." A pop song filled the room making her response fall silent and him deaf to what he could only assume was a string of expletives. She stormed across the dance floor in wobbly heels and began to gyrate under multi colored search lights. With a tired smirk he threw back the last of his overpriced whiskey and fumbled for his last cigarette as he moved to the door. The girl brushed his hand while she danced with an older man in a loose fitting button up. Good for her. He pulled his jacket across his back as he licked his teeth and headed into the muggy North Western Air. Perfect teeth.
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