And hello Everyone!!!


It's good to have you. get comfy. Imagine we're in the same room, imagine I'm handing you a cup of coffee, or a beer, or cigarette.
Or soft, fuzzy slippers.
Peruse. enjoy yourselves.
For a submissions and bi monthly mailings of the WWD tiny magazine send an email to worldwidedirt@gmail.com
Also Check out The Year That Everyone Died - Season 1- Rich and Free. Complete, in order, hyperlinked internet adventure.
Also check out the WWD reading series here.
Also check out the trailer for Heavy Hands here.
Also Check out the WWD ONLINE STORE
If you want, order a paperback copy of House Of Will on the left side of your screen. or download it digitally for FREE.

good to have you. Stay awhile.
love, world wide dirt

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

tomorrow night

tomorrow night will you remember what you said tonight?  tomorrow night will all the thrill be gone?  tomorrow night will it be just another memory?  or just another song that's in my heart to linger on?

your lips are so tender.  your heart is beating fast.  and you willingly surrender to me but, darling, will it last?  tomorrow night will you be with me when the moon is bright?  tomorrow night will you say those lovely things you said tonight?

so, if, and this if is like the sperm whale of ifs, if a person, let's say a young man, glimpsed the future, not to see the end's catalyst or trapped folks screaming on a tumbling bridge, but the scenario that he was to find himself let's say 18 months post-pre-cognizant-vision.  He might be troubled by what is glimpsed. If he's partial to his current lover, then he's gut-punched to see her life tangled with another man's and dried out by seeing his life overlapping with a different woman, perhaps the lady at work who digs british invasion bands.   the importance and pay of his job have not inflated.  his apartment is the same, but more neglected and messier by a measurement of a year and a half.  physically, he will not be statuesque.  his stomach has spread to meet every corner of his shirt.  his head hair population has largely emigrated to his apartment's carpet and his shower's drain pipe.

he returns to the present and looks at his life the way a third party member looks at donkey-elephant democracy.  his candidate is relatable, his platform persuasive and realistic, and they are each a lost cause.

eighteen months later he's done caught up and he's allowed the prophecy to fulfill itself.  the woman he had loved is an acquaintance, a dark memory like a long play on a drowsy night.  the new one feels right, she feels like the woman he ought to know.  he's gotten good at his job; wise in its lore, suave in its performance.  he hasn't noticed the weight gain and he's become taken with the wearing of beanies.  even the vision he had had is like an R-rated movie snuck into as a child and revisited with a more sophisticated interpretation.

your lips are tender.  your heart is beating fast. and you willingly surrender to me but, darling, will it last?  tomorrow night will you be with me when the moon is bright?  tomorrow night will you say those lovely things you said tonight?

No comments: