Meet Gib

and nobody loves you baby / the way i do 

hmmm, mmmm, mmmmm the music comes from out of the shower, muffled behind the wok-wok shhhh of the shower-water, Lola in there, washing the blue out of her hair.

if only it were that easy.

my novel inches toward completion and i love it hard now, love it deeply, not because it is perfect, but because it is my creation, one i have devoted years to, hunched over a keyboard and exacting from each sentence the maximum perfection of mood and propulsion that i intend for it to convey. 

meet Gib, Parish's ( main character ) uncle:

   The knocking woke me this time. I sat up, sealed shut: to the right of me, the left- opened eyes to the ceiling before I realized I was awake in my house, in bed; someone was knocking loudly on the front door.  Adrenaline squirted from the exhausted gland in my gut- I imagined it looked like withered eggplant: lopsided and purple. The door knocking/ panic/The phone ringing/panic/Life/panic. Pulling on black sweats and pulling up my hair: ‘ Just a MINUTE! ‘

   Just a damn minute. The grey crepe light came through the window. Miserable sky outside. The bushes fell sideways and haphazardly all along the backyard fence, a large glistening crow hawked his way through the trees, turning his head to look at me. I shook my head, feeling hungover. The door pounded.  ‘ I’M COMING!!! ’

   I pulled my face taut with both hands, held my eyes sideways. Wiped the sleep from my eyes and a cot of white from the side of my mouth. Moved my tongue around. Bit the side of my cheek; opened the door.

   Immediately the whipping sound of helicopter filled the room.

   His big face was tan, his sunglasses small and cracked. Long black hair was pulled into a ponytail which then looped in hairbands the way down it’s slick dark line, past damp armpits. A black and white tattoo of a beautifully pouty woman’s face with large, heart shaped sunglasses climbed from the neckline of a short sleeved tee up to his grizzled jawline. A massive tarnished watch lay in the thatch of his wrist hair like a treasure stolen and placed into a bird nest.  He smelled of sweet Pintanto cigars and breath mint. The sky slumped behind him.  His mouth opened in surprise!: ‘ Parish-  Hello! ‘  The helicopter’s whoomping and whirling began to fade. Gib.