Friday, 30 May 2014

a one hundred and twelfth story...'norman's next love letter'

Dear-est Rosalind:

My dearest one, my urchin one, my sweet n’salty sea-shell, my conch – how are you?

I know it’s only been a couple of days since my last letter, pray forgive me, but I just felt compelled to write again.  I realise you haven’t replied to the first, but still, perhaps you too have been busy?

Busy, busy, busy: that’s me just now.  Trying to get this goddamn manuscript finished for publication (yes, I have three publishers interested in the draft, all of whom say they ‘are looking at it’, and ‘will get back to me with a yes, or no’).  I trust you are as excited as I am at the thought of having a professional author in our future family.

Families? Babies?  Rest assured I adore babies.  Some men of my age don’t, and they sure as hell can’t handle the things on a hangover.  But, me, oh no!  I love babies as much as any woman, as much as I do my two dogs (you’ve met them, the Bullmastiffs), Fritz and Bruno.  Somedays I even I wish I were still one myself (a baby), then you could cradle me in your arms, and I could suck on your breasts (is that too explicit?).

Well, I suppose you’ve been wondering what my novel is about.  Let’s just say (and I realise I may sound a little presumptuous) it could take certain parts of the World of Literature by proverbial storm (I don’t know if a proverbial storm necessarily includes plagues of locusts?).  Anyhow, a critic might say of it: ‘Murikami – eat your heart out!’ (have you read him? Dreadfully over-liked, over-popular and over-rated!), (If you haven’t read him, don’t start now!).

So, to the plot: a man and woman meet in inauspicious surroundings (a grimy city bar), and they end up sharing pizza.  Their fingers touch as they tear and share the slices, and talk about pizza toppings, Italian renaissance painting, that sort of thing.  Then, a crazed ex-mafia goon bursts into the place and sprays bullets into the open kitchen, the man is hit in the shoulder and is taken away in an ambulance … but the thought of this their first meeting (perhaps unsurprisingly in view of the mass murder) never leaves either of them. 

Still, to cut a not very long synopsis short, gradually over the years, and the endless trial proceedings, the two are bought back together, and love blossoms from the darkest, most rootless place.

Like it? (perhaps don’t answer just yet!).

Rosalind:  can I write you more often?  I find on paper words come so much more easily than when I’m trying to speak them.

Bundles of love!

Yours,

Norman

…roaming, and waiting. 

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