pg 48

August 1, 2010, 6:10 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

jerry’s subconscious was alll riled up like you wouldn’t believe. He had three daughters, one, two, and three and they were young. young enough to still want to be told stories before bed although maybe you never grow out of wanting to hear a story before bed, you just feel strange asking. jerry would only tell one story each night not one story per daughter. for a while he had tried that, striving to/initially succeeding in creating three fully realized worlds. before long, with the day’s work nearly but not forgotten, jerry would just recycle the initial story. a second draft for the second daughter and so on. the trouble jerry found was that instead of each telling getting better as second drafts do when they become thirds, it was more of a copy of a copy of a copy, each retelling gaining a smudge/losing visibility so that by the third time around the story was plagued/peppered with “no wait”‘s and “i forgot to mention”‘s.

so he came to gather all together in one’s room because, fitting for the first child, one’s room was the best. it had a high ceiling and an arch that split the room in two, bed, desk, chair, bookcase all on one side, couches and beanbags, soft colourful lights and a blanket tacked to the ceiling that lent itself well to (a) story settling(s). jerry fully realized that these times, this getting three birds stoned at once, were coming to an end. soon one would be finding herself with a later bed time, and then would grow to not want a story, or be out for the night at friends. and the chain would continue until he only told stories to sara? a near empty house? grandchildren?

one, two, and three preferred that the stories told to them were told in a certain way. more importantly, that their stories began in the same way-by random. after that it didn’t so matter if it was a family story, or a real story, or an adventurous one. the best story they made started like this:

pa, tell me a story. [pa they liked using]

ok but i need an inventory first.

fine, where’s that pen?

make the letters big, i can’t read them otherwise.



Best was that they had been to montreal that summer and loved the city/trip. two liked it so much she went to the library and took out french language instruction books/tapes and it had come present practice to find two and sara at the kitchen table each night, pouring over something, conjugating verbs and the like.
so that the variable was becoming a constant-the vegetables.


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