Ten minute sprint evoking Gertrude Stein…

Note: I feel like this was a failed assignment… Who in their right mind tries to emulate Gertrude Stein? Might I add that the particular author was not my choice… I may be in love with Gertrude Stein but I’m not deluded enough to believe she can be imitated… Imitated well, that is.

This is the story of a stranger.

An unimportant stranger who crept around the shadows quite like a spider wanders around his web.

Then again, I suppose spiders don’t wander, they’re far too meticulous for such thoughtlessness.

But that is quite besides the point and a point is a hard thing to come by.

(Especially when the point maker is aimlessly spewing thought around the target)

This is an important story about a stranger who lives in a painting which is pinned (lopsided) to my wall.

She stares at me all night long and waits patiently throughout the day for my unpredictable return.

And it occurred to me several evenings ago, as I was twisting in my sheets, that it is rather strange to spend so much time with a stranger.

After all, I know nothing about her. I don’t even know her name. Though she seems like a person who would have to be nameless, no name I can think of would suit her.

~ by carik on July 20, 2008.