Tuesday, September 27, 2011

15 Sticky Notes

Sometimes, your medium
will, by its very nature
apply a limitation to your
art. But you can't help
yourself, you love the
challenge. By having your
hands tied, you have to
think on your feet. Which 
brings me to my weak
spot: Sticky Notes

My earliest fascination with
pads of sticky notes was
that they made perfect 
flip-books. Between me
and my brothers, we ruined
every pad that came into
the house with stick
figures, spiders, rockets,
guns, and gruesome, violent
death scenes.

The woman in the 
car behind me on my
way home had big, 
honest smile. She was
alone in there, but the
look on her face was
the honest, happy smile of
someone who has just
been kissed for the first

So the real challenge, you
see, is to write a complete, 
concise thought. Ideally, 
I would have pages. I do.
I have a lot of sticky notes.
But it's the spirit of
brevity that counts. Being 
able to say something on 
a square that's less than
2"x2". I like the challenge.

Our song came on Pandora
today, and this time I
let it play. It's a sweet
song. Beautiful. Why do 
the girls I fall in love with
pick such good music?
I think it's why I avoid
music in a relationship.
I don't want to lose something
beautiful to heartbreak.

Are you scared? It seems
like every time I'm ready to let
my guard down, I can't find you.
I guess you've already told
me the opposite is true, too.
It's a heart-rending game
of cat and mouse, with so
much constant role reversal.
I want to break through,
cross that line. It's OK 
if you're scared. You know what?
I'm scared too.

She ran away to Germany
before I even got a chance.
We made such amazing
castles in the sky. I've 
never met someone so easy
to talk to. Technically 
speaking, I still haven't
I don't know who broke the
connection, but she burned 
the bridge. We talked as if she
would stay for me. But we
both knew better.

I'm not sure why I
sent her an e-mail. It 
was cordial enough. I was
expecting something terse
in response. It was nice
to think I could fall
right back in. I felt
comforted. For a minute.
Then I remember. You said
you would understand if I
didn't write back. I won't

I can't believe you 
remembered me. You smiled,
glad to see me. I couldn't
have said more than 
two words the first time
we met. I was hung over
and needed coffee. I
probably wouldn't have said
anything, but a smile
like that does wonders for
the soul.

I remember I reconnected
with Becky from Scipio. 
She asked me how my
life had been. I told
her all about my failed
relationships. Weeks
later, she replied
"That's not what I

Secretly, we all
have a story we want
to tell. We're all
stupid magicians,
and we all have
the itch. Eventually,
we'll all fall in love 
with it.

Of all the nights we spent 
out, it seems we should've 
stayed in. The cold is
so much easier to weather
with a warmth of spirit,
of  body, of soul, of
comfort. two lights
to fight the oncoming


The consequence
of sound

The consonants
and vowels

"Are we forgetting something?"
the butler muttered.
"I don't want to take it!
All the kids give me weird
looks when I have it."
Layla pouted.
"You remember what your mother
"Fine," she huffed, tucking
the battleaxe behind
her backpack, and slammed the door.

Sometimes I wake up,
and it's completely silent. 
Not even the hum of a fan.

It's as beautiful as it
is unsettling. Like a 
rainstorm when the sun 
is out. Like the hair
in my brush, that's too
long to be mine.

* Regina Spektor's "Consequence of Sound"

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