(I was reading through my "work in progress" today or what I sometimes, laughingly refer to as a book. It's following a story line but there are whole passages and pages where I go off on tangents and I rant and rave and whoop and whirl across the page. The writing so far is painting the picture of a passionate, somewhat crazy, sometimes very angry young man. I'm not sure how I feel about my work so far. I don't feel bad, but I also don't feel that great about it either.
I cut and pasted some snippets below...One snippet may offend you pro-lifers out there, and I don't really care. I would suggest you stop reading now if you get easily upset by that type of thing. )
--"More heavy tears run down her face and she moves in to hug me again. I let her do so but instead of giving her a hug back, I coldly pat her on the back three times. I'm shaking with a caffeinated jolt of 6 espressos, only I'm dead sober. I’m repulsed, I’m in a state of horrific shock. I feel no empathy for her and I feel no empathy for whatever is (possibly) alive in her stomach, I only feel for MYSELF and how this would mess up MY life. My mind races with the abortion process and the money that is potentially involved. Who can I ask for advice, who has been here before? How much is it? I try to remember where the abortion clinic is in Richmond. Where do I always see the protestors? On Boulevard and Grove? Boulevard and Floyd? My mind flips and spins and my eyes blink uncontrollably. Tears are held in check, just barely. Can I scrape together enough money in the next week or so?
I walk along the streets pissed off and angry. Angry at whom? Myself? God? Her? An unborn child? I don’t know who to blame but I’m walking the streets in a white hot rage. I turn dark corners into unlit alleys and I imagine getting jumped by four muggers and I welcome the sight. I welcome a brawl and I yearn for the brutality of it. I welcome the adrenaline and the smash of my fist and elbows into eye-balls and foreheads and groins. I’m so jacked up with anger I could take on an army right now. An army of muggers or even an army of her, an army of lying, cheating, drama-loving whores.
Again I think of how much an abortion costs. I think of my mother and my father and I think, what they would they say? I think of what the fuck I’m doing with my life."
--"Oh sure, they tell me that you really start to live when you have a child and a happy relationship…
I spit on that, I spit on the whole god damn system. I whip off a condom I just filled and I wing it onto their glossy "bay windows".