Series of posts (within SC.) with Piglia’s bits of fiction wisdom Breakthrough on story Kingsway Massage: have the wife ask and then demand some of his weekly cash. He can’t refuse, so his story fails and forces a confession or further lies; but, first, he tries to grill wife on why she needs the money….
I miss F. She wanted me to stay at Grammy’s. She clung to my leg. When I picked her up, she hugged my neck and buried her face beside my cheek. When I finally left, she refused to look at me. She has a way of presenting her profile. A sense she watches from the…
The abatement company I hired left the asbestos tile on the upper floor. How do we trace responsibility? Because of my dad, I trace all responsibility to myself. —– Last night A. and I spent an hour discussing privilege, white-male identity, and the limits of expression: have I been silenced or have the voices of…
Does the beginning of a century have more hope? I watched Legends of the Fall for the third time? No, at least the fifth or sixth. Legends played endlessly on 90’s T.V. and eased the angst and depression of most teenage boys (my favorite of these was Demolition Man). Did we all want to be…
I have always been the loser. Therapy gave me sight. I could no longer identify with cinematic heroes. I now saw myself as one of the peripheral characters like Fredo Corleone. They perform many functions. Perfect vessels for irony, because they usually act from a deep inadequacy fueled by jealousy for those men capable of…
What happens when I narrate my life? (Deja-vu. I’ve asked myself this question before, and on paper, in a journal, beneath a date I can’t remember). I appreciate how Chekhov begins The Kiss in third-person omniscient and over a page inserts us into R.’s perspective: omniscient free-and-indirect? Did I like the story? Today, it would…
Only the sky exonerates the world . . . (I crossed the rest out.)
I’ve sat down to work. The morning has begun. Three hours have passed since I woke, made breakfast, and handled F. Last night (nights are evening, now), I walked and snapped pictures. I have an addiction: I watched fourteen drag race vids on CarWowCar last night while cleaning the kitchen scared of my unoccupied mind….
I’ve noticed before. I enjoy the short, hard sentences that a pen produces. I have not felt fine. Can I observe this feeling from a vantage unaffected by the emotion? It is a weight. It burdens. Neither of these are visual; the feeling has no visual quality, except for the visions it produces. A visual…
Men: When I see a man smiling and laughing (often with a woman), and I catch his eye, even for a moment, a stoic, even angry expression, asserts itself. Tall privilege anecdote from Sherwood (did I write this in my phone?). (Story): not being responsible for the architecture of your mind. The metaphor (which becomes…