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bear by san

March 2017

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writing gorey earbrass unspeakable horro

she wakes him up forty-eight hours later, the sun is breaking



[17:10] matociquala: okay, I has jellybeans and linden leaf tea and contracts and Chris Isaak
[17:10] matociquala: I can do this thing.
[17:10] stillnotbored: you can!
[17:18] stillnotbored: most of what I wrote last night while half asleep morphed into present tense
[17:18] matociquala: heee
[17:18] matociquala: because present tense is dreamy
[17:19] stillnotbored: yes *g*
[17:19] stillnotbored: and I was dreaming I was writing
[17:19] stillnotbored: *rolls eyes*
[17:27] matociquala: I wonder what I did with the contract from RoF.
[17:27] matociquala: *has a paperwork explosion*
[17:27] stillnotbored: *g*
[17:30] matociquala: oh, look, an uncashed check for 27 dollars.
[17:30] matociquala: That's not the contract.
[17:31] stillnotbored: heee
[17:31] matociquala: Aha! Here is the contract.
[17:31] matociquala: I really am turning into Albert Einstein.
[17:31] matociquala: Only without the womanizing.
[17:31] leahbobet: hee, this should be a kids' book.
[17:31] matociquala: Alas
[17:31] leahbobet: "Are you my contract?"
[17:31] stillnotbored: lol
[17:31] leahbobet: "I am an uncashed cheque!"
[17:31] leahbobet: "are you my contract?"
[17:31] matociquala: LOL!
[17:31] leahbobet: "I am a beer!"
[17:31] matociquala: ooo, beer
[17:31] leahbobet: hee.
[17:31] matociquala: too much beer leads to not finding contracts
[17:32] matociquala: and forgetting to cash che(que)cks
[17:32] stillnotbored: how old is the check?
[17:32] matociquala: oh, just a couple of weeks
[17:32] matociquala: um.
[17:32] stillnotbored: oh good
[17:32] matociquala: okay, a couple of couple of weeks.
[17:32] leahbobet: hee.
[17:32] matociquala: *g*
[17:32] matociquala: It's like "Two pair. Of aces."
[17:32] stillnotbored: after six months they aren't any good anymore
[17:32] leahbobet: (are you my contract? I am a flash game on the internet.)
[17:32] cpolk: heh.
[17:33] cpolk: (are you my contract?)
[17:33] matociquala: Yeah, I haven't slid that far into absentminded geniustude
[17:33] leahbobet: I should write this. *g*
[17:33] matociquala: Chelsea, if you came and were my PA, you could remember to cash the checks.
[17:33] cpolk: (I am your mp3 collection)
[17:33] stillnotbored: you should Leah
[17:33] cpolk: yes, yes I would.
[17:33] matociquala: (Are you my contract?)
[17:33] cpolk: (I am your to-do list from feb 8, 2004.)
[17:33] matociquala: (I am a love letter from somebody you never treated as well as they deserved.)
[17:34] leahbobet: LOL
[17:34] matociquala: Yep.
[17:34] matociquala: Chelsea's practical.
[17:34] matociquala: I'm writing Litrachur.
[17:34] cpolk: I just know what I find when I pick up pieces of paper and say
[17:34] cpolk: "Are you my contract?"
[17:34] leahbobet: (are you my contract?)
[17:34] leahbobet: (I am a hungry cat.)
[17:34] matociquala: "I am a royalty statement."
[17:34] matociquala: "Your book has not sold through."
[17:34] stillnotbored: "I'm a box of imps in the back of the drawer"
[17:35] matociquala: "This is why you cannot find a contract."
[17:35] cpolk: (I am the recipe that smiling woman wrote on the back of a galley printout when you bought an empanada from her on the beach)
[17:35] matociquala: Are you my contract?
[17:35] cpolk: (I am your warranty statement from your computer.)
[17:35] matociquala: It has the air of a Jules Feiffer piece, don't you think?
[17:36] stillnotbored: it does
[17:36] cpolk: (are you my contract?)
[17:36] leahbobet: I was thinking of the Terry Pratchett "where's my cow" thing. *g*
[17:36] matociquala: I am the nail polish that rolled under the couch.
[17:36] stillnotbored: "I am the handwritten book of poems from a boy you almost loved."
[17:36] matociquala: Are you my contract?
[17:37] matociquala: I am the packet of a million dollars cash left in the dead letter office for eighty years.
[17:37] matociquala: (Okay, I had to get a Dead Like Me joke in here somewhere.)
[17:37] stillnotbored: *g*
[17:38] leahbobet: heeee
[17:38] cpolk: ARe you my contract?
[17:38] cpolk: (I am the last paper photograph you ever took)
[17:38] leahbobet: Are you my contract?
[17:38] leahbobet: I am the phone bill.
[17:39] stillnotbored: I'm the notes for the book you never wrote.
[17:39] matociquala: Are you my contract?
[17:39] matociquala: I am your high school diploma, which you have been using as a coaster on the coffee table for fifteen years.
[17:39] stillnotbored: LOL
[17:40] cpolk: ARe you my contract?
[17:40] cpolk: I'm a collection of index cards with incomprehensible sentences on them.
[17:40] matociquala: I am the picture of your tenth grade lab partner, who was secretly in love with you.
[17:40] cpolk: Are you my contract?
[17:41] cpolk: I am your signed nirvana CD.
[17:41] cpolk: if this poem has a title, it's "disorganziation."
[17:41] matociquala: I am an unused Elvis Presley concert ticket, from the last tour when he was so fat and stoned.
[17:41] stillnotbored: I'm the secret to saving the world you wrote down and forgot.
[17:41] cpolk: LOL
[17:42] matociquala: You never made it to the show because your car broke down.
[17:42] matociquala: Thirty years later, you have decided it makes a better story.
[17:42] matociquala: But you still kind of regret it.
[17:42] cpolk: I'm the plan you wrote that night while drunk.
[17:42] matociquala: I am the text in the books you can never read in your dreams.
[17:42] cpolk: but it turned out that he died without your help
[17:42] cpolk: and there was no fuckin money anyway
[17:43] matociquala: I am the cocktail napkin the blond wrote her number on.
[17:43] matociquala: The ink ran.
[17:43] leahbobet: I'm the postcard he sent that ended "wish you were here".
[17:43] leahbobet: Because that's what you wrote on postcards, not because he did.
[17:44] cpolk: I am the matchbook from your first date.
[17:44] matociquala: I am the blank page you tore out of the back of a copy of The Joy Of Sex to write a divorce poem on.
[17:44] cpolk: I am an original copy of Betty Dodson's masturbation book.
[17:45] matociquala: I'm the lyrics sheet to a copy of Eliminator that you don;t have anymore, because it was on the turntable when the cat knocked the stereo over.
[17:45] cpolk: I'm a copy of the biography of Andy Warhol
[17:45] stillnotbored: I'm the telegram you never opened.
[17:45] matociquala: The next day you bought a CD player
[17:45] cpolk: (he never threw anything out, either.)
[17:45] matociquala: It was the last vinyl album you ever bought.
[17:46] matociquala: I'm the flavor key sheet to a packet of Jelly Bellies.
[17:46] cpolk: mmm, jelly bellies!
[17:46] matociquala: I'm a copy of hustler that bastard left behind.
[17:46] stillnotbored: I'm the toaster instructions that say Do Not Immerse in Water
[17:47] leahbobet: (found the contract yet? *g*)
[17:48] matociquala: Yes
[17:48] matociquala: *g*
[17:48] stillnotbored: yay!
[17:48] matociquala: Are you my contract?
[17:48] matociquala: Yes.
[17:48] matociquala: I will feed you and keep you warm.

Comments

Okay, *this* is funnier than cat-vs-monkey, but only because I live with piles of paper, and not with a cat.
(I am the letter from the oncologist.)
(I am a book of stamps.)

Yeah, there's something about the heaps of paper we live with, and how fraught with meaning so many of them are.
Are you my contract?

I am a Jay Lake button.
Are you my contract?

I am a wedding invitation from a girl you used to date.
I am an ovedue bill.
I am your daughter's birth certificate....

It really could be worse

"Are you my contract?"
"No, I'm your hit man!"
Cracks up laughing. I had a similar session the other week, looking for my car insurance so I could renew the car tax.

(Last year's insurance, last year's MOT, 6 receipts for rail season tickets, a couple of B&W photobooth pictures of me when I was 20...)

And, reading the above, I thought of "Where's My Cow?" too
*g* It is amazing how stuff piles up....
Are you avoiding work? Answering LJ comments so quickly? :)
Nope! I am working like a fiend.
That would account for the smoke and faint smell of sulphur :)
Oh. Lord.

*collapsing in wry laughter* - 'cause, y'know, I've got piles of paper. I've actually got a box or so of papers, from all the time I was homeless and then in the SRO; stuff got dealt with, but nothing ever got filed. And now I'm too intimidated by it all...

Today it's "are you the notification from the Medicare Plan D thing that I can get 90 days worth of meds for 30 days co-pay if I do it by mail?" and the answer was, eventually, "yes" so I now have to get a list of all those medications...

I am the text in the books you can never read in your dreams.

Oh. That. Yes.
Oh man. Paperwork.

Ew.