My relationship with the novel inside of me is complicated. Some days we're on one accord, and other days we live inside the one room shack, which is my imagination, like two clammed-up fish pissed to hell at one another. This is our life. On days when I'm feeling a bit in the mood for love, Novel woos me towards the computer with a little character here and the perfect balance of scene and summary there. It's on these days when I need a little literary healing that I fall head over heels for Novel, so much so that I become delirious by love and the look of his prose. Sometimes I might lie about my feelings for him, but deep inside I know he's the one thing that I'll always come back to like that Isley Brothers song, Voyage to Atlantis.
On other days our relationship sucks like an old sack of smellly balls. It's on days like this when he doesn't know what to say to me and I sure as hell don't know what to say to him, and we sit in our one room shack pouting like six year olds with our backs to one another and minds speechless. To mend the fence, Novel will eventually start speaking again and I'll give in, but relunctantly so because in my heart I know that this won't be the last time. With a couple flowing sentences, he gets me to think again, and things become good again like before the hurricane. During times like these when I'm high in the spirits, I'll sing to Novel so mellifluously because despite the way we fuss and fight, I know he my baby.
The relationship between Novel and I is quite complicated. We live in this one room shack trying to get love right day after day. We argue, fight, make peace, then argue some more because our worlds wouldn't be right without this type of unbalance. Sometimes we fly so high together that the ground seems days away, and other times we don't. But no matter how things fall apart we always say, "This time I'm gonna do you right, and we do."
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2 comments:
How long is Novel?
Lovely.
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