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Show ALL Forums  > Creative/Writing  > Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?      Home login  
 AUTHOR
 WillToLife
Joined: 1/13/2009
Msg: 1
Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?Page 1 of 1    
A fellow fish e’d me recently and posed the question: Jesus, why can’t someone write a testimonial about me like yours? I told her everyone should have at least one… and that I’d whip her up something… this is what I came up with…


I have to go back some years. I first laid eyes on her sitting at the bar in Nick’s Place, Casa Blanca… the Moroccan coast Africa. I walked in around noon and grabbed a stool just down the bar from her, but she never looked my way or at me for the hour and half I listened to her talk to the barkeep. She was nursing a whiskey neat… I ordered the same. I could easily hear her speak… it was midday and the place was empty. The bartender was listening to her reason for being there… it was a break… she needed time away from her studies to think in simple terms… and to consider whether or not having a Ph double d in Ergonomics and Art History was worth all the neurons that were being sacrificed to that endeavor. For months, years her psyche had been drowning in the abstract constructs of thesis: her only real significant other thus far in life… that “one safe place”… that “true companion”… that sanctuary and safe haven for unreal thoughts… ideas absent underpinnings. I was there just healing from the fractured fallout that resulted from yet another failure to launch in relationship. As the neat took affect her monologue, which had been moored to the dogmas of disciplined discourse and discovery, moved away from the intellectual and veered sharply into soulful soundings... teasing at the depths. That’s when the man behind the bar stopped his multitasking and really began to listen… as did I.


Let me wade into a thumbnail sketch of her abbreviated, rapid fire staccato utterances. It was like listening to a symphonic overture that gradually built in intensity towards allegro. It was a kaleidoscope of cascading gray scale commentary. She started with: she believed that the novels of Susan Sontag are self indulgent, over rated crap… that great art should be like great sex, it should move one towards climax of thought and emotion… that when she sweats it smells like cologne… that she believes in long, slow, wet, deep soft kisses that last three days… she said that whenever she goes for a swim, dolphins appear… that she thinks it’s fine if you have nothing to say, unless you say it… that a man once tried to walk a mile in her shoes, after, he needed six months of electro shock therapy treatments… that the police often question her, just because they find her interesting… that when it’s raining, it’s because she’s sad… that she believes Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone… that she believed that there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing astro turf and the designated hitter… that she once taught a dog to bark in Spanish, this made her laugh, her laugh sounded eerie and slightly dark… then she commented on how her hair alone had experienced more than most women’s entire bodies… she blurted out that she believed in the cocck, the pusssy, high fiber, good scotch, the power contained in the gentle touch of a man, the soul, the sweet spot, soft core pornography, and that Christmas presents should be opened on Christmas day, not Christmas eve… that aliens ask “her” to probe them… that whatever side of the tracks she’s on, it’s the right side... that soulful paradox was her favorite snack food. And with that statement she suddenly stopped talking, looked up at the bartender and said: Men never listen… they only know how to stare… I can’t think in here, the blues have got a hold of me, I believe I’m getting dizzy, goodday to you both! She still hadn’t looked at me. She then slipped off her stool, walked a straight line to the front door, flung it open and quickly became consumed in a blaze of mid afternoon sunlight. The slamming close of that door snapped us from our stare. He picked up her half consumed whiskey neat and wiped the counter… I slammed home what was left of mine and ordered another. Then the barkeep and I suddenly stopped what what we were doing and spoke in complete unison: “Lordy!” I quickly obtained pad and pencil and began to write down what I could recall of her dialogue. I’m sorry to say that I only got the gist of it… just snippets, sound bites. There was much more. What I had heard did, however, lead me to believe that I may have just not met the most interesting woman in the whole world!


grizzlee
 WillToLife
Joined: 1/13/2009
Msg: 2
Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?
Posted: 7/20/2009 8:43:38 PM
To SC... Muchas gracias... and, don't do it... leave her alone... you know better...

To jwing... Hey, good hyperbola!!!

To CindLoo2.... I thought the sentences beginning with: It was like listening... and, that soulful paradox... seemed tacked on... :) But thanks.... :)
 WillToLife
Joined: 1/13/2009
Msg: 3
Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?
Posted: 7/27/2009 3:28:04 PM
Mr. body without a brain... "Life is tough... it's even tougher if you're stupid". John Wayne said that... I think he must have met you. Why must you be such an angry young man? Is it because no one will play with you? I recommend your next course of therapy include Anger Management... augmented with heavy doses of Thorazine. Now go away and get back to your favorite tv program: The Simpsons.... Homer, your hero.... dooh!!! How many times do you say that in a day? Hundreds... no doubt... Now run along.... :)
 WillToLife
Joined: 1/13/2009
Msg: 4
Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?
Posted: 7/27/2009 5:13:18 PM
You're so cute when wordless, not to mention thoughless MiniMe... (I knew I'd seen you somewhere before)...
 taoaru
Joined: 4/24/2006
Msg: 5
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Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?
Posted: 7/28/2009 6:33:46 PM
I just sort of skimmed this, but what is the purpose of an unattributed quote from the movie Bull Durham?

Crash Davis: "Well, I believe in the soul, the**** the ****, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. "
 WillToLife
Joined: 1/13/2009
Msg: 6
Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?
Posted: 7/28/2009 8:06:27 PM
You get it... one of the few... everyone knows that sphill... so I don't have to say ... duh! Right?
Show ALL Forums  > Creative/Writing  > Jesus, why can't someone write a testimonial about me like yours?