Beginning of my novel...
Kilgore_Trout
Posts: 7,334
and all the while she mistook my indifference for confidence, my neediness for attentiveness, and my selfishness for ambition. girls like confidence, attentiveness, and ambition -- or so i am told -- so i allowed the charade to continue. i like feeling in control so i allowed myself to think i was allowing for the charade to continue. i love cumming twice a day somewhere other than a tube sock -- or so i am saying -- so i loved her.* **
*as much as i could love mind you -- i don't mean to contradict the aforementioned indifference. and i am fully aware of how woefully catcher in the rye it is to so bluntly define the emotional state of mind of the narrator -- but consider it a shortcut for us both and an invitation to second guess my emotional sincerity from here on. plus it helps get the "tween" audience interested. not that i intend to make this "tween" appropriate. i'll stop with the interruptions once i establish where i'm coming from.
**i find it is best to wash such socks in a separate load (no pun intended). you'd be surprised how quickly a load accumulates.
it went on in this manner through the year -- so perfectly content in having found such a socially acceptable and chemically barren default in which to deposit infinitely many would-be bastards each night -- until it was no longer going on. i no longer sat shivering and breathless in the passenger seat while she sucked down a pack of cigarettes and we drove through the Midwest tundra -- the same song on repeat. she would've sucked down more if i had asked -- and we had switched seats of course -- but i found the maneuver to be rather unromantic. and she drove a stick shift. naturally i would've drove if i had a car and wasn't so mindful of my carbon footprint. but that's not important -- says the indifferent man.
i was left shivering and breathless now by the thought of being alone -- and quite possibly deserving to be there. a cliche existential crisis -- something the readers can relate to whether they like the self-important narrator or not. but mainly i hated to think of her fucking someone else. or even being available to the thought of such things.
and the good ones don't stay past tense for long. not when you're writing the story.
*as much as i could love mind you -- i don't mean to contradict the aforementioned indifference. and i am fully aware of how woefully catcher in the rye it is to so bluntly define the emotional state of mind of the narrator -- but consider it a shortcut for us both and an invitation to second guess my emotional sincerity from here on. plus it helps get the "tween" audience interested. not that i intend to make this "tween" appropriate. i'll stop with the interruptions once i establish where i'm coming from.
**i find it is best to wash such socks in a separate load (no pun intended). you'd be surprised how quickly a load accumulates.
it went on in this manner through the year -- so perfectly content in having found such a socially acceptable and chemically barren default in which to deposit infinitely many would-be bastards each night -- until it was no longer going on. i no longer sat shivering and breathless in the passenger seat while she sucked down a pack of cigarettes and we drove through the Midwest tundra -- the same song on repeat. she would've sucked down more if i had asked -- and we had switched seats of course -- but i found the maneuver to be rather unromantic. and she drove a stick shift. naturally i would've drove if i had a car and wasn't so mindful of my carbon footprint. but that's not important -- says the indifferent man.
i was left shivering and breathless now by the thought of being alone -- and quite possibly deserving to be there. a cliche existential crisis -- something the readers can relate to whether they like the self-important narrator or not. but mainly i hated to think of her fucking someone else. or even being available to the thought of such things.
and the good ones don't stay past tense for long. not when you're writing the story.
0