Thursday, August 27, 2009

dear diary V.

june 20 1977
dear t,
I thought about your book idea and I'm trying not to intertwine my constant blushing in our story. I guess a kind thank you will have to suffice, but might I add that yes, yes I want to write a collaborative with you.

This is what I have so far:
"Clark called Sally, Sal.

Sally hated when anyone called her "Sal" except for Clark. Sally loved Clark.
Clark neither had anything bad to say about Sal, nor anything good to say about Sal. Sal was just this colleague of his who he frankly found quite homely and quite average.

Sally constantly thought of Clark in scenarios. Clark getting punched in the face. Clark being ignored. Clark hugging her for too long. Clark licking an ice cream cone on a bench. Clark playing basketball, and playing pretty poorly. Clark shaving. Clark planting. Clark listening to The Velvet Underground with his windows down. Clark playing the drums. Clark picking his nose. Clark stubbing his toe. Clark kissing the nape of her neck. Clark in her kitchen eating her Grandmother's apple pie."

Okay now your turn.

Hope to hear from you soon.


june 22, 1977
dear m,
The weather's been pretty crap the past few days, but things always seem to brighten up when I open my mailbox and there's you. I won't make this letter soggy with all of my aimless remarks so I'll just jump right into adding to our story:

"The thought of Sal never encompassed his mind. The only time he ever thought of Sal was when he was too lazy at work to get up and pour himself some coffee. Sal's cubicle was practically in the kitchen so he'd think of ways to ask her to pour him a cup and bring it to him without seeming like a complete jerk. He never would ask.

Sally woke up at 6am every morning, brushed her teeth with special whitening toothpaste thinking possibly they'd glisten when she'd talk. She coordinated her outfits with colors he wore frequently, grey's, blue's, green's, and orange's. She parked three cars in front of his so that when he arrived he'd see her just a few steps ahead of him in his favorite shade of emarld green draped around her.

Clark woke up at 8am every morning. Sometimes he'd brush his teeth, sometimes he wouldn't. He often thought the point of taking time to getting ready was a bit of a loss considering he was unnoticed and unattractive. He wore the same outfits every week, just simply rotating them according to his mood. Like clockwork he'd arrive to work right behind that homely Sal and it always made him feel kind of sure of himself-- prompt and punctual even."

Hopefully poor Sal catches her break, but I suppose that's up to you.


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