Thoughts And Things, 2017

One of my favorite assignments for creative writing class was eavesdropping. 

I sat in a lobby or cafeteria and listened … to the kids having coffee, to professors talking about students, to Professor Keneally who loved vodka and was sleeping with a student, and often mocked beer drinkers. Where does the thirst come from, he asked. 

And I listened to the asshole behind me talking about what I guessed was cheating on his girlfriend. I told her I was running late, he said… 

I knew Karen missed class. I knew the girl with the pottery was frustrated that she had not sold much.

I walked over to see what she had. I loved pottery. My friend Maryanne's boyfriend Jason came by and said, that pottery is nice.

Not as nice as my ass, I said. 

I knew where the guy in the red shirt spent his night. She was hot, he said, we did it while her roommate waited outside. 

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Tim at the bar after closing was staring at long shadows cast by overturned stools. He said, I had to eavesdrop too. I wrote down anything interesting. We had to build a whole story around like, a sentence.

Did you like it?

I liked writing in prose, but this assignment wanted dialogue, he said. I was not used to writing that way.

Prose and dialogue, I said. It's the difference between, say, daydreaming and tennis.

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Grabbing the scrap of paper, I read what I had overheard: He said, My ass crack was bleeding. I was wearing a thong that night.

For his birthday he wore a sparkling tiara. I loved it. His eye shadow glittered. A true daredevil.

Another day, another comment…

As I walked up the basement stairs and turned to enter the bar, he said, My sister's name used to be Juan Carlos. Now, it's Julia Carmen.

Reading that last note to Tim, he asked, Is that what you were scribbling down?

Yup.

When I told Jerry about it, he suggested that I start writing down things I hear and putting together a book. Three hundred sixty five days at the bar, or something like that.

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Unfolding another stray thought that I wrote on a slip of paper, I read the words, The light fades for everyone eventually. 

I had not overheard that, but thought it on my own while pouring vodka and soda, rum and coke, and popped beer tops for hours. 

Lily has bone cancer. I found out in early October and those words from my vet are the first and last things I think about every day.

How are the dogs, Danny K asked. 

Well, we lost Hershey two summers ago, Bandit has arthritis, the pug had the good grace to quietly slip away in his sleep, and poor Lily has bone cancer.

I'm sorry to hear that, he said.

It's ok, I am not going to tell her, I said.

We hike each day and she chases her toy. I rub her sore leg where the cancer first showed up as a limp. I'm just going to do the things I know she likes. She'll never contemplate death. She will know discomfort one day, but not yet.

I am going to run through the forest with her and toss her rope toy until the light fades.