I don’t know what made me flip through the notebook I wrote in so many years ago, but I did. For several years I always had a notebook with me. There I recorded ideas for stories and often snippets of poetry. Some of the things in the notebook made me laugh when I read them. I can no longer remember what was pure fiction, and what of this book were words stolen from overheard conversations. In some cases I imagine the stories I might have written. In other cases, I’m glad I didn’t write the stories.
“Quite frankly, the conversation reminded him of one of his anthropology classes, the one about black culture that he took to impress Lena the black girl he was dating at the time. That was before he met Leena the Indian girl he’s dating currently, for the time being.”
“I don’t deal very well with men reminiscent of Beavis.”
“Girl, you can’t be puttin’ that cigarette so close to that fake hair. I don’t have the right shoes on for a fire.”
“Personally, I like code switching. Know what I mean. Gives you a little edge.”
“Sex so wet and messy you need a drop cloth.”
“Don’t mind her, she’s just the house girlfriend.”
“Greasy-face stains on the windows.”