Charma

First I should note that I’ve written the other days over the weekend. I’ve not yet posted them. One I won’t be able to post. My on the road experience continues today and through tonight so I may allow that to color the quality of my writing now and tomorrow. Lucky you.

Jun-kata always liked to chat her up before getting to the money. After what that old monk had told her last night Charming felt like using a spear instead of a net. “I gave you the touris for the shirts already. I’m not paying you a second time. Especially not in [cool money sounding name].”

Jun-kata grimaced.

The set of his face made her think for a moment he was upset for reasons other than the undelivered shirts. His words brought her back. “Drown me Charma. That all you think onna these day?”

Charming wanted to tell him not to call her that. Tell him she wasn’t one of his little fish. “I think onna lots these day. But only the one thing onna you: my shirts.”

“Charma…”

“I gave a money; you keppa shirts. Where’s my shirts, ah?” she asked, “Don’t calla me that.”

208 words on day 535

Talking About My Room

I’m giving my brain a break on this one. Friday’s writing was surprisingly effective, but two places in three days makes for a tough writerly frame of mind. I’m just doing a thought stream or maybe I’ll talk about the things in my room. Either way I’m serving you notice.

A Sears|Elmore sewing machine stands at post along the East wall next to the open closet door. The table’s feet divit the cut Burbur carpet and may stab through the floor and into the three-car garage below.

The white pine door to the hallway and downstairs looms over the garment mender. It’s closed.

Continuing my circle counterclockwise around the room turns up a plain but heirloom hutch. A weird lamp on an three-shelf table. Two mirrors: one framed in the 80s and another—unframed—wrenched from a 90s bathroom wall. A virgin Raggety Anne doll sitting skirt-above-her-knees on Grandma’s sewing basket. And a pile of vacuum hoses and add-on tools.

There is some other stuff in here with me, but it’s as dull as what came before and there’s football ont he TV.

190 words on day 534

Goh Bhutin

There is at least a reasonable chance this is the only chance I’ll get to write today.

Phone cables, electrical lines, and guy wires stretched above the street turned bazaar and footpath. Some dried clothes near the plasterboard structures lining the way. Others hung heavy with pennant flags and beer ads. Still others ran the several meter gap empty and wondering why. Together they choked the sky and forced Drake’s attention back to earth.

Somewhere in this jumbled alley there had to be the best place in Goh Bhutin to find a cup of coffee. He’d find it.

107 words on day 532