Tyler: Blah Blah Blah

So, I've not been able to write for a while, fiction at least. For the zine (which is fucking out and stapled and beautiful) I've written a couple things which we still need to workshop. One is an essay on the beauty of karaoke and the other is a conversation with Chuck Palahniuk which I'm fairly pleased with.

At the moment I'm sitting in my room staring at the houndstooth fabric on my wall, drinking a delicious Oberon and smoking some American Spirits and I am writing some fiction and it feels good and it's vaguely therapeutic. So until I finish this story here is a little piece of it. By the by, the name is directly influenced by Biz Markie



A Girl Named Blah Blah Blah

When did I start smoking? When the fucking dreams wouldn’t stop. When Morpheus decided I was the perfect target for his rage.
The dreams were, of course, about a girl, Blah Blah Blah. I had a much better name picked out for her but, you know what, I really don’t feel like she deserves it now so I’m going with Blah Blah Blah. It was a good name too. A sweet name. It fit with how I saw her at the time but looking back, she deserves a worse name. A name that really says something about her character, her personality. Something that conveys to you, the reader, my true emotions or feelings or whatever I feel toward this girl. I figure Blah Blah Blah is a very nondescript moniker apt to riding some happy median between blind devotion and shear detest.
This girl left me hard. She tricked me into liking her, something I usually try to do to girls successfully or otherwise. It could have been my own fault, I can’t really say. A couple weeks before I’d met her I’d just gotten out of a four year relationship with a girl that saw me as husband material for some reason. I was out in the open and not looking for much but I found Blah Blah Blah by chance. We were both at a show for a local band in which we had mutual friends. I came alone and she did as well and at some point I found myself outside with Blah Blah Blah just talking about, well, nothing in general. We were going through drinks and discussions and everything else. We got to the topic of where we went to high school. I told her I went to St. Charles for a couple years. She then proceeded to ask if someone jumped out of there or something. Didn’t someone try to kill themselves there? Yes, in fact, that was me. I was that kid, am that kid. She was in shock and a little embarrassed. I thought it was hilarious. I mean, I didn’t succeed so it’s kind of funny that she mentioned it, right? I don’t know, funny to me.
Whatever game I was or was not spitting, it worked. At the end of the show she hinted at lamenting her night being over so I offered we go to the Dube to end the evening right. She agreed and I was doing well. After my fried mac and cheese balls were finished I took her back to her car, got a hug and her number, and was on top of the world.