and then...hiding

Where do they hide, hide things? In drawers and in drawers. Under the mattress. In his shoes. Under his clothes. Against his skin. Things are hidden and usually. And boys hide things. They write letters and they write letters. And address and address.

Boys can hide things behind blushing cheeks or in mirrors. Or in their bones. 

I spent all last night writing about self-sacrifice as vice. A crucial topic which has no place in my head or in my time. All I can think is what I sacrificed to go back to school. Vice indeed. What I wrote will get me an A but I'm unhappy when I can't write fiction. Writing fiction is my job. 

Of course now that I'm back in school, it just looks like a hobby, not a paying job as it should be. But I don't make anything of that. If I have food and board and paper and ink there's no difference, really. School is just a house. A job for what? What am I buying? Time to write. So no difference. Just one unified vocation. 

"Doll's boy's asleep under the stile....they must chain his foot, for his wrist's too fine...for every mile the feet go, the heart goes nine." 

That's Cummings.

and then...bones

Why do men keep their hair short? Are they showing off the top of their spine? Men have it thicker there. Like a knob. 

Bones have joints. A joint is a drug or a biological hinge. Boys make bigger joints; they stick out and scabs happen. Mine doesn't like his bones. He has trouble with them all, and his teeth, every one. He is fearful of every kind of bone. Bone takes his dreams. 

Have you dreamt of all your teeth falling out? That's how the bones take his dreams and I won't say what it means.

I walk with pictures of the bones and then I sit down and look at them and then I write. I carry the images with me. I have other images too. I write about the body of the world, so it's bones I'm looking at now. Writing is fun when you carry the images with you. 

and then...scruff

The scruff of the neck is the base of the hairline, the hair which grows on the neck. The term is also used to refer to the back of a shirt, blouse, or dress. In the animal kingdom, grabbing someone's scruff is a protective gesture. Among humans it's a dominating gesture. The line between the two is thin and twisting and often misunderstood. I'm not meaning to explain anything. I just like the word scruff. 

Scruff and cuff like jacket cuff. Jacket cuff makes good contact and cuff is a verb too. Cuff is also punishment. 

I have moved all the notes for my latest writing project to a suitecase. It is very heavy. My fiction fluxes; I travel in and out of the character's perspective. Now you see him, now you don't. It's choosing whether or not to hear both sides of a phone conversation. And it touches every word. There's nothing to blog because nothing is happening that I can say. I starve and I write and that's this. 

Someone grabbed him by the scruff.