TGSNT, Part 8.
Part of the Tao of being very big, as I'm told that I am, is that you can't run around pummeling everyone just because it's possible. This is especially true of drunken jocks, bad drivers, and handicapped people, at least in my opinion. One is pathologically unaware, one is truly inculcable, and one is just plain wrong.
I let Testostero return to his books and sought my tempest on the porch. Diane and Skip were practically atop each other, discussing the importance of voting, or political awareness in general. I passed by the bipartisan spectacle, paid my respects to this most incongruous pairing of pulchritudinous politicos, and sought out a Virgil for the next bolgia: the living room.
The room appeared to have been furnished in Early American Overcrowded With Horny College Students. Hobbit Dave, aptly named for his size and demeanor, was macking hardcore on Kat, one of the few nice girls in attendance. Jen, ever the perfect hostess, was talking to at least three different guys in two different corners. Stein was keeping the couch in order; if I know Stein, he'd already gotten his, and was here to bask...he didn't gloat, at least not in the same way I do, despite having been quite the annoying profligate Lothario of our little scene. He certainly didn't chirp when he was dating my cousin, anyway...though I imagine she'd have beaten him to death if he had. The baseball players were milling around the fridge, emptying my sacrificial Budweiser with disturbing alacrity. Some small voice from the other end of the cosmos, perhaps Stein's, perhaps any one of a number of people's, told me that D was upstairs.
Ordinarily, my perpetual libido would have propelled me up the stairs at top speed, but I paused briefly in the front hall. I still do that sometimes, physically stopping to grab a sense of perspective. This creates a bookmark of sorts, the purpose of which I'll explain later.
I put my mind back on my business and hit the stairs at full tilt. Sure enough, the door to the spare room was open just wide enough to provide a landing strip across the small of D's back.
It got dark again, and this time the baseball players stayed away.
Part of the Tao of being very big, as I'm told that I am, is that you can't run around pummeling everyone just because it's possible. This is especially true of drunken jocks, bad drivers, and handicapped people, at least in my opinion. One is pathologically unaware, one is truly inculcable, and one is just plain wrong.
I let Testostero return to his books and sought my tempest on the porch. Diane and Skip were practically atop each other, discussing the importance of voting, or political awareness in general. I passed by the bipartisan spectacle, paid my respects to this most incongruous pairing of pulchritudinous politicos, and sought out a Virgil for the next bolgia: the living room.
The room appeared to have been furnished in Early American Overcrowded With Horny College Students. Hobbit Dave, aptly named for his size and demeanor, was macking hardcore on Kat, one of the few nice girls in attendance. Jen, ever the perfect hostess, was talking to at least three different guys in two different corners. Stein was keeping the couch in order; if I know Stein, he'd already gotten his, and was here to bask...he didn't gloat, at least not in the same way I do, despite having been quite the annoying profligate Lothario of our little scene. He certainly didn't chirp when he was dating my cousin, anyway...though I imagine she'd have beaten him to death if he had. The baseball players were milling around the fridge, emptying my sacrificial Budweiser with disturbing alacrity. Some small voice from the other end of the cosmos, perhaps Stein's, perhaps any one of a number of people's, told me that D was upstairs.
Ordinarily, my perpetual libido would have propelled me up the stairs at top speed, but I paused briefly in the front hall. I still do that sometimes, physically stopping to grab a sense of perspective. This creates a bookmark of sorts, the purpose of which I'll explain later.
I put my mind back on my business and hit the stairs at full tilt. Sure enough, the door to the spare room was open just wide enough to provide a landing strip across the small of D's back.
It got dark again, and this time the baseball players stayed away.
posted by Thom Guthrie, Bassist and Adventurer at 11:03 AM
11 Comments:
Well I think it's a fuck of a lot better this way. This is the best part of the serial now, and not much has even happened. Just good solid description.
Of course now I have money on the line so my interests are questionable. I look forward to seeing how Stein's version compares.
Nothing happened? Well, I guess it depends on your definition of "nothing".
I'll see what I can do, narratively speaking, to give you some sense of the action, such as it was...it's really more of an ambient piece. It's meant to be a painting, a frozen slice of time, rather than a lenticular Larry Flynt decal whose eyes follow you around the room.
If I get too graphic with the sex, it's just more blogporn.
If I get too vague about the sex, it deprives the piece of the hormonal emphasis needed.
Let me know if I figure out the equation; it's going to be a tough one!
Also, expect a couple more parenthetical references in the next part; it's how I talk, it's how I think, and trying to avoid that particular tool was almost physically painful.
Stein's going to smoke me like Seymour homegrown, but at least he'll have to work for it. >;)>
I didn't mean nothing happened in a bad sense. As I said, I liked this part the best: it was a solid, mostly uncluttered description of a setting. Between the politics simmering on the porch, hormones raging in the living room, and animosity building in the kitchen, I'm finally getting the feel for the party.
But I think you're wrong about the sex. While I agree that you definitely have no need to get more graphic in this story, I think you are wrong in your assumption that all narrative sex descriptions are either vague or cheesy fantasies. The world is filled hacks who try to write about sex, but there is plenty of good stuff too. Go read some Roth or Updike; I dare you to call it Blogporn. ...Speaking of which, I guess we will be seeing Ferrett's attempts in that area this Saturday. I mailed my initial contribution today. Ask him for me if us nonLJ people will be able to follow the day’s blogging. I suppose I could set up an account, but would rather not.
-Sam
Hi Sam.
Roth's stuff just blew me away. Most times, if I see somebody else taking a certain angle, I look at it in a very competitive fashion. Can I take this guy? Am I seeing everything he's got, or is he just feeding my expectations while holding something truly awe-inspiring in reserve?
In the case of Roth, he's just firing away. He's incredible, even when he's TRYING to be vulgar. Stein? Stein is holding back sometimes (unintentionally). That's why I bet he could take me. If he gets tired enough, he'll forget to restrain himself and hammer me into the earth...and I'll thoroughly enjoy seeing it happen.
I'll personally c/p you the bonus blog, especially as it settles our wager, if you have any trouble seeing it.
I think the next post will be as close as I'll ever get to talking about the lurid details, although part of the delay is trying to phrase it in my own voice. There will be no jpegs or interpretive dance, though. Sorry.
As always, your comments are a solid poke in the ribs. They keep me focused on the mechanics, and I need that sometimes. Thanks.
-T.
It was May 13, 1992, I will never be able to forget the date....
Guthrie, I have to say I'm having the best laugh reading this....it's a good thing SOMEONE was sober enough that night to record it for posterity. Most of my memory plays back like overexposed film, too hazy to be reliable. Of course, that's how the best parties are supposed to be, right?
Peace,
Jen
Jen-
It has always been my blessing and my curse to remember just about every second of my postadolescent life. The faces blur, with time, and the dates can get muddled (thank you, Anonymous Person Who Once Dated Dale!) but the important stuff is there forever, I hope.
I'm glad you like it. I promise there'll be more soon (in the next couple of days).
Sam:
Alas, thanks to the structure of LJ, I cannot allow anonymous posters to see something; the account will be friends-locked so that only those people who have paid can see it. Fortunately, an LJ account is cheap indeed.
My memories of this party may well be outstripped by Guthrie, mainly because I have two memories - one a decent story, the other a decent moment. The rest of it I spent drunk, and thoroughly snookered. But it was one of those parties with a great vibe, and everyone went home happy.
Well, almost happy. You'll see.
- T.F.
- Who still digs Guthrie's cousin, and counts her as the best breakup he ever had
Stein-
You just have to tell the tale.
And I concur about the happy part, although the details are yet to come.
Didn't Mick dump you at the train station? Or am I just thinking of one of your many arguments?
THAT'S NOT MY REQUEST, EITHER.
-G.
Thom; I have to say that I have no problem w/ parenthesis (and let me be clear on this), because it seems to me that you are going for a certain voice here; you are telling the story, not with a clear, 20/20 hindsight perspective, but as it happened while it was happening. There is something very immediate and strong about telling a story as it happens, and it requires a certain stream-of-consciousness, mimicking the actual thought-process. Kind of like this comment so far! also, like Jen, I have a somewhat hazy memory of that night. I know I drank a lot, I know I ate ice cream at some point, I hope I didn't use the bathroom or wash my hands in the bathroom sink (my god! peeing in the sink? what happened to using a toilet or a tree?), and I know I..oh, well, maybe I won't mention that part. hmm. Anyway, I look forward to reading more. And I,too, would be interested in Steinmetz's version of that night (I doubt he remembers me, but I remember him). E
Steinmetz remembers all of us, I am certain.
He may regret the recollection, sometimes, but I have no doubt as to his faculties (despite his advancing years.)
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