freewrite: Gumshoe

It was a park bench in late August, about this time of year, but it was colder there. Newspapers floated across the sidewalk and into the trees. Ghosts looking for a nest, he thought, and the leaves were beginning to fade already.

A plastic bag held a few belongings and no one knew what had happened the night before. Dark blue lights, a red lamp, and chains. She wore a hot pink dress. Solid hot pink, and stood in contrast, next to the red lamp. Waiting. Waiting while he went through a stack of books, ignoring her, choosing Hugo over her. Dark, almost black hair, wide eyes, wanting to be discovered. He knew her and had already noticed. He discovered her first. She went back to him even as he went back to his books and trees and twilight.

A box, a stuffed animal...a beige bear with tattered and faded fur and a chewed ear. Strings. Too many strings. Wires. Wires. Pineapple drinks and black sand. The sand was so black and it came into the house and couldn't be swept out. It was in his pockets, hair, shoes, and even after the wash, it was still black.

the lights were steady in tht room, where she stood in the dress. She was hungry and he thought he had to feed her. Why? She wore hot pink dresses. She needed nothing really. Some things money will not buy.

Falling from the sky was a man, cast down from the high rise. Spread out his wings just before pavement met him face to face. Spread his wings out just enough to land on his feet, not fly away. It's okay to be stuck. Stuck to the ground, and walking with gum on your shoes. Both shoes. With a gun in the alley and a knife in the back. As long as you can have a good laugh about the gum. It's pepto-bismal pink. Who gets gum on BOTH of their shoes?

He should wear ties. At least once a week, something for someone to hold onto as he tries to make his getaway, again.

(Hey, I was just thinking...what's a gumshoe?

I just looked it up. It's a detective or private investigator. So I read this and started laughing out loud. Here I am, not even knowing what I'm writing about and in some weird way it makes sense. Sort of.

I guess I'll keep writing...in a minute, after my mocha. That is so funny. I was just writing, not thinking, and then the phrase gumshoe came to mind and it means something and sort of fits what I'm writing. It must be something about the subconscious or some kind of "pattern recognition" ).

Skin on black and black on white. Pieces of bark from an aspen in his hand. A stick for writing with. Tangerines. There was smoke billowing from the stacks and stacks and stacks of letters unopened, left behind. Juggernaut. Dancing beneath cracks in the ceiling and inbetween the rats. He fed the rats. They came back at the appointed and unappointed times, when the sun was beginning to filter through the cracks, and in passing, cut out the light. A steady stream of rats.

I don't mind, if you don't mind.

But sometimes it mattered, when one jumped onto his back and tore his shirt while he was talking to her, someone he thought he could trust. She was the one wearing the yellow t-shirt with the daisies on it. Her hair was unkempt but she was beautiful, until she opened her mouth. He tuned her out. Focused on her mouth like a model will meditate upon the branch of a tree while attempting to hold a difficult position for hours. She spoke and he heard nothing, and wasn't listening when the rat was falling climbing up the post behind him. She saw it happen and did nothing. She imitated a scream and pushed him back when he fell forward.

(Okay, now I have to look up juggernaut bc the word came to mind and I don't know what it means)

Well, it does mean something. Anyway, I think I'm done with my freewrite for now. Back to the TTSOML article deconstruction