I spent the early months of this year working on a longer piece to submit for publication. In the course of writing it I amassed nearly 2500 scrapped words. I kept these words in their own document. For some reason, they were precious to me even as I deemed them worthless in the grand scheme of my story.
If they were paint, I would roll around naked in them and throw my body at the canvas. They’re not paint though, they’re words. Visual artists use found material or “scraps” all the time.
Here’s my version of an abstract word rendering…
Navigating the city
the new adventure to begin
I hadn’t fallen down in months
clearly, my future was stardom
on a collision course like a gory flick
spin around, face down, stomach flat against the vinyl top of a barstool
closet so packed with clothing that the door wouldn’t close
I fell for the urban landscape at first sight
two guys named John
had no idea what I was talking about, it didn’t matter
real estate is a hot topic in Manhattan, even when you live in student housing
my world was a sliver of corner behind the stacks of speakers
adventure was on that side of the river
hanging out at the top of the Empire State Building
all the time playing McDonald’s drive-thru
the first step towards my inevitable top billing on a glittering theater district marquee
he glanced up in time to witness my approach
sitting behind the sliding glass security window
engrossed in that day’s edition of The New York Post
completely unaware of how much a simple box of mushrooms would thrill me
no one to congratulate me on surviving the streets
continued progress through the market
it resonated within my head as if someone had shouted right at me
the coolest work/study job on the planet
more concerned with my safety than my designated “asshole” status
inner voice on the attack
contributing. no longer just a spectator, listener
I could be whatever character I chose