Monday, April 2, 2012

Timed Writing: 3/17/2012


Time: 10 minutes
Source photo: the Albany Jungle by hugo poon hp


Green like Robinson Crusoe jungle trees green. That's how green. Green like Ruby Rhod's supergreen. Green like the Green Man green. Greener than the backs of dollar bills, by far. Even hundred-dollar bills. Green, untrained, naive, the horns on the child cowpoke's head. That's you. Green, kid, green.

You never been outa your own little bubble, have you? Never set eye on other folk? Just your P.s, your sibs and a few neighbors? Got a dog? A cat? Never seen a rat or an elephant? So what're ya doin' here? Why start now? Nothing to keep you from spending the whole of your little life in the womb. Don't look so green in there, do you. Just when you get out here on the open ocean your face goes sick like that and you have to swallow hard reality before it gushes out your maw and messes your shoes. Know how to tie 'em, huh? Surprised they didn't' give you velcro or slip-ons. You can tie a shoe, you can tie a suture. No? OK, well put your finger there. Push hard while I tie. Good. Hope for you yet maybe. 

Sorry kid. No harm meant. You're here. Don't know why, but you are. Think you care? Maybe you do. Maybe you're curious. Maybe you figured it out on your own -- how green you are. Got done with green and wanted to ripen up. Wilt, shrivel, turn brown, fall apart. Not be green. 

OK, so now what? Got a plan? Can't stick around here. No work. Least none that pays. Come to save the world? Maybe break it worse. Gonna have to move on or move back. I guess they'll take you back. Some questions, of course. You'll have to put on a good act for them. Make it real. Get bored again, leave again, but after that can't go back. This is your little trial act before you gotta make the real plunge or not. See what you can, while you can. Get dirty, get sick, get gray and bloody. Get some death and love and shit. Go back and see if you can cut it in the clean. Go back after you're not so green and see if you can take it, back there in the hot-house -- back where it's cush and comfy. They'll take you. They'll hose you off, polish you up, cut off the warts and tumors, plug you into the nutrient bath under the bright gro-lights and let you flourish. 


(about my timed writing exercises)

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