Fiction Journal

I know I'm making several posts in one day. Just bear with me, dear reader(s). This entry is probably going to be really short, as I only wrote it within a few minutes. It's another "First."

First Sip of Coffee (Sorry for Telling this One Again, Dad).


I was out with my family, June of the year I beat Zelda: Link to the Past. We were at a plant nursery; it was 100 degrees. My throat was dry. It was a desert cave at noon. I was sweating all of the water from my body, but it wanted more to sweat. I believed in death by thirst in these moments. There were fountains with babies, chubby and winged, pissing clear water into troughs where it recirculated to become more piss. Like my sweat.

I pleaded with Dad to let me drink from the fountain. He suggested his coffee. My dad liked his coffee black, and somehow, despite the swelter of June, the thermos let it get cold. I sipped it as my mom warned me against it. Disgust. Spit take.
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Not very good.

Journal for Fiction Class

Well, my Intro to Fiction Writing teacher said that I could use the computer to do my daily journals, so I think that's what I'll do. Today, I'm going to do one of the "First" exercises. If you're not familiar with it, they're exercises where I just write and write and write about the "first" something; it can be anything, like the first time I drank coffee, or my first kiss, or the first time I ate cheese. Whatever I want. This one is the first time I climbed a tree (even though really, it's not completely true).

The Left Mimosa 

It was a mimosa tree in my grandparents' back yard, well, there were two really, but the left one sucked. I would climb into the branches of the tree, thinking about lazing like a gibbon in the jungle. My sister would come outside mere seconds after me, demanding the use of the right mimosa, but I had already settled into it and I was the gibbon. More accurately, I was a sloth, full to the brim with berries and fruit flies, them buzzing in my belly, eating the fruit as I was digesting it. Their tiny lives would be over soon, but for that moment, they had a feast in front of them.

I sat in the tree, my sister stood below awaiting my departure, the fruit flies gorged. I told her to climb the left tree, but she wouldn't have it. My older sister believed in the authority given by God's egg timer.

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Well, that's it for that one. I just wanted to get that one down in some more permanent form than my notebook. I actually wrote that one during class on the first day. Yay school!

You Hillbilly!

Well, I spent most of today enjoying springtime weather. Does "Springtime Weather" sound like a song from the 60s? I think so.

I know hardly anyone reads this blog, but I thought I'd give my mom a bit of free advertising. Her musical talent is solid and classic. She's a singer/songwriter whose voice is ethereal and breathy at times, but full at others. Though she's only accompanied by her guitar, it's not a lonesome sound. Anyway, you should give her a listen.

Right now, the sun shines in my eyes. Bells of train track crossings ring and my patio door is open. Trash bags sit on my porch, waiting for me to transfer them into the dumpster several yards away. After that, someone will dump them into a truck, then onto a landfill. Then they will decompose.

But isn't that the fate of us all?

I beat the original Bioshock game again. It's awesome still, even after the second one changed the play mechanics. Apparently, Valve is making another Portal game, and I am really excited.

What do you think of this?