Just in case you thought I had forgotten, I’m still working on getting my little chap book up and running. Since not having to show up to an office has been giving me more time to do things, sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the things I could be doing. And you know what? Writing is still just as tough when you have time to do it than when you don’t. I guess, when you don’t it’s almost easier because you excuses instead of just whining, “but i don’t waaaant to.” But, as a taste, here is a bit of what I’ve been working on:
He ran his hand along the seal between the window and the door; smooth, not a crack in it. Yesterday the car had sparkled on the corner of a residential street, had hissed at him so loud, Jackson spun around to face it full on, and this morning he had taken it. When was the last time he had worked something out this big for himself? He couldn’t remember. Pride, he thought, and mouthed the word.
Jackson didn’t even want to roll down the windows, though the inside of the car was already filled with smoke. He just wanted to sit and feel the kind of luxury a man didn’t need great food or a great bottle to enjoy. The luxury was knowing all of this was his.
Bruce was quick to grab, quick to pocket, quick to do most things and when he saw the wad of twenties in the glove box, Jackson barely saw him reach for it before it was gone. Then Bruce ran his thumb over the edges of the bundle, and Jackson heard it purr, seeing it clearly in his mind.
“Gas money,” said Bruce, and gave a chuckle.
Bruce had the skill to jimmy the door of the Mercedes open, the skill to hotwire the car, and the seamless confidence to get away with it. Jackson had only found it and wanted it. Wanted it enough to ask Bruce for help, for a favor he may not be able to repay. But now, with the money, maybe it would all be even-steven. Even-steven was a Bruce phrase.
Still working on the ending bits, but it’s coming along nicely. Oh the end bits, they are always the worst.
We’re trying to move. Trying means oogling craigslist and biding our time until we can afford the stupid deposit. Deposits are the devil! So much money upfront that even if you can afford the monthly rent, it’s a bitch to get that big wad of cash to convince the landlord you deserve to live there. And trust me, that’s how it is here. It’s a scramble to get any good apartment, you have to fight off the competition with flattery and bribes. Also, the idea of packing makes me break out into a sweat. I start looking around and have the urge to immediately start buying boxes from Home Depot. Oh the things I could pack! Books and DVDs and the crap I won’t even know we have until it’s noon on the last day we can stay in the apartment and I’m out of packing tape!
I’m trying to figure out ways to handle the short hair. The question is: How do I sass it up? Because every day looks, I got. But we’re going to a wedding this weekend – a wedding that ISN’T OURS! (HOOORAY!) And I want to look good, not disheveled. I’m thinking this can be achieved with the hair accessories? I also bought the hot rollers but have yet to try them. I keep meaning to, but you have to do it with dry hair? And I wake up all wack-a-doo in the hair department and i don’t think curlers will tame my poofy head (or maybe it would?) so then I have to shower and then I have to blow dry and by then I don’t really want to put in curlers to sit in front of my computer and write words all day. Am I thinking about this the wrong way? Hair, man… it’s complicated.