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The Uninteresting Self

Updated on December 11, 2014

Disguarded Moments

Vignettes

It's one in the morning as I spread the final touches over thick slices of bread. I am too cheap to own a toaster. And I wonder why I can't sleep. They are caked with butter. The thinly sprinkled sugar became a tablespoon over each slice, followed by cinnamon. The bread is fresh from the bag and folded and I am careful not to spill. I place it in my mouth and try to remember a time when my mother made these at breakfast. I am greatly disappointed. That young mouth had taste buds. It wasn’t desecrated by bottles of booze and tobacco. I use the rest of the loaf for old faithful, my double-decker-peanut-butter-and-jelly. Making food is no longer cathartic. It has lost its magic.

I write so much that the voices of characters speak to me in drawn out conversations. Each echoes in my head and fills the vast emptiness of the space in which I reside. They seem relevant to something I want to say, except I know only silence. The women of my past come to say hello or rather to tell me “piss off.” The benefits to living alone are the many visitors that come by unannounced. The voices arrive and leave with no regard for that precious “time” they often spoke. I say what I wish to them and occasionally remember vivid moments, what they wore, what they said; I even know their thoughts now. Then they just drift away like fading spirits, pockets of space—un-aged—and precisely how I recall them.


That leads to the scary part. Life, or the reality of that Life outside, where I must interact with people I do not know so intimately. It became a dream not too far back. Now, in the empty coffers of this two-bedroom apartment I seduce a hostess from my first job. I can’t remember her name, but I clearly see the blinding red oriental dress she wore when she greeted customers and that gorgeous dark, dark brown hair. I seduce her. I am smooth and aggressive. Back then, emblazed by cowardice, I was more of a decorative appliance—someone loud in quiet places and a jester conjuring white delicate smiles.

I like to think about women. I am addicted to their walk. “How [their] hips make circles within circles,” Neruda said, or something to that effect. I love the way their decisions occur, basing conclusions on connections, emotions, and heart. It is warmer, more inviting than logic. And when you are sincere, the flickering in a woman’s eyes, the unwavering slice of time penetrates exposition, like the last time I told a woman I loved her.


Rating the Exercise

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    • wannabwestern profile image

      Carolyn Augustine 

      8 years ago from Iowa

      twalker, I agree you have a way with words. I'm looking forward to the next installment to see what happens. I love reading other Hubbers' fiction. Your imagery is vivid and the topic unique. You made peanut butter and jelly seem interesting!

    • twalker74 profile imageAUTHOR

      Tyson Walker 

      8 years ago from Las Vegas Nevada

      I appreciate the compliment resolver. Heading to the Midnight series right away. And thanks earnest, looking forward to more "tales from the bush."

    • Resolver2009 profile image

      Resolver2009 

      8 years ago from Bournemouth, UK / Oslo, Norway

      Wow, you are a really talented writer. The way you use words is just magical. Keep up the great work Twalker. Rated UP. Btw.. just published the fifth episode in my thriller series "Three Minutes To Midnight". See you around amigo. Alex

    • earnestshub profile image

      earnestshub 

      8 years ago from Melbourne Australia

      I enjoyed this hub, it helped me enjoy some of my own experiences.

    • dohn121 profile image

      dohn121 

      8 years ago from Hudson Valley, New York

      You have a very firm hold on your narrative and certainly have a voice to go along with it. I like your description of the hostess with the red dress and can picture her vividly...I just wish that this was longer! Good job overall, I hope to read more and hope that you will visit me again.

    • profile image

      Emily R-Love 

      9 years ago

      I always like reading your stuff, but secretly wonder if you are trying to pick up chicks this way. ; )

    • KCC Big Country profile image

      KRC 

      9 years ago from Central Texas

      I enjoyed your first hub and look forward to reading more. I cringe at the thought of going back and reading some of my first hubs. Trust me, they do get much better with practice. (Or at least I'd like to think mine do...LOL)

    • profile image

      Bob Dodge 

      9 years ago

      I like the detail in the description of the bread and sugar and cinnamon. I can taste the result, but I don't think I would like it.

      No wonder making food is not cathartic for you if this is what you make. Go see Julie and Julia and try Mastering the Art of French Cooking. That might give you more of a catharsis.

      As usual I enjoy your writing. Once in a while, it seems to me you overreach on your vocabulary. I looked up "coffers" and a coffer is a strongbox. Although it does have a secindary meaning related to architecture, I don't see how it fits here. Maybe you meant "confines."

      Believe me, this is not a big deal. You asked for criticism and English professors are used to giving it. I can be a nitpicker, but my justification is even most of the best writers can improve and the only way that's going to happen is by picking at the little things. I hope your blog goes well. I know I will look forward to reading it.

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