Inspiration?

[wendybeth]

Originally Posted by Ghoulish Delight

That's the hotel I stayed at on my recent business trip to San Fran.

I wish I had more time. An entire story just popped into my little brain and I have literally no time to run with it. If this is still going after the dust from the Girl's soiree settles, I'll post it. Cool building, though.

[Cadaverous Pallor]

Originally Posted by Ghoulish Delight

That's the hotel I stayed at on my recent business trip to San Fran.

Geez, put a little more effort into your story, willya?

Actually, that's rather weird, since I chose that pic at random.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

“Oh, my God, is that Chris Martin? Honey, shut up a minute, I think I’m about to walk by Chris Martin....Are you serious? Chris Martin! The lead singer of Coldplay....Oh, for Christ’s sake, yes, Gwyneth’s husband, yes..... No, I will NOT ask him that. I think Apple is an adorable name. Well, we don’t have to worry about that, do we, Mr Vasectomy?................I do NOT always bring that up..........Well, I did, but I’m having second thoughts..........You ALWAYS say, Let’s have this conversation some other time. And that condescending, Shall we, you tack on the end? God, I hate that………………I didn’t……honey, I didn’t say I hate you, I said I hate it when you tack….honey, you’re breaking up. You’ve misunderstood and you're breaking up……..Hello?...............No, NO, I do not want to break up. That’s NOT what I said. I meant the connection is bad………………..No, not OUR connection, the phone connection. I always get such terrible reception in this area; I should have never switched to T-Mobile. What? Chris who? Oh, him. I have no idea. He passed by me a while ago, around the time we started arguing. I’m not even sure that it was him. Maybe just a look-a-like….Hold on a sec, will you, I think my blue tooth is falling out of my ear. Hello?”

[€uroMeinke]

Originally Posted by Ghoulish Delight

That's the hotel I stayed at on my recent business trip to San Fran.

Does that mean there's a story hear that you can't share with the general public?

[Stan4dSteph]

Originally Posted by Cadaverous Pallor

The other day I spent what seemed like forever searching online for a cool piece of photography to use as inspiration and found diddly squat. Today I actually found something.

I have an original from this guy. He's got some cool stuff you might use.

[Cadaverous Pallor]

Definitely some cool stuff there, Steph. Thanks!

And thanks for bumping this thread! My creative push is elsewhere at the moment, hope others can revive this for themselves...

[blueerica]

I'm going to resurrect this thread. Going to try and resurrect myself while I'm at it, but let's start here.

Thanks Steph, for the link. I found this picture there.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

Adam contemplated the pavement and tossed the cigarette we’d been smoking out into the gutter where a little stream of dirty water carried it away. Most likely it would wind up in the L.A. River. If the rain keeps up it might make its way to the ocean. Romantically speaking that cigarette is having a more wild adventure than I’ve ever experienced. Realistically speaking it’s just a piece of garbage floating out to sea and I hate Adam for littering. I always pocket the butts. Each month, money is debited directly from his account to benefit some environmental group that accosted us outside of an Urban Outfitters, but I know he doesn’t really give a **** about the environment. Environment to him means air to breathe and concrete to walk on. Bred in captivity, he doesn’t know what he's missing. He seems ensconced in a life devoid of conviction or aspiration. That’s why I was attracted to him at first - by contrast I seem positively altruistic. In truth I usually care more about the stories people tell than the people themselves. I do volunteer work at retirement communities for the free breakfasts and the story ideas I steal from the old folks lonely enough to befriend me.

“It reminds me of the beach.”

I’d been enjoying the quiet and Adam’s voice cut my eardrum like a blunt razor. I’d secreted myself away into my thoughts and would have preferred being left alone. I wonder how many people only have relationships because it’s what we think we’re supposed to do. Things were easier when I was only interested in having sex and didn’t care what people thought about my private life. Now that I’m no longer a teenager I care about people looking at me and thinking, Doing beautifully; nothing to see here! I don’t mind a little internal bleeding so long as I don’t bruise.

I smiled at him; no reason to be a little bitch just because I’m suddenly in a bad mood. He had paid for dinner - his family has money - and he even held my hand under the table when he sensed I was feeling nervous around my parents. He’s generous with his smokes and his compliments are never generic. This morning I woke up to him murmuring against my thigh. He said he loved the way I smelled in his bed, a combination of my own natural scent, his laundry detergent, and the smokiness picked up in the bar we went to the night before. When he kissed the back of my knee his tongue was still warmed by sleep, and I felt the full force of an impregnable affection. Bedrooms become fortresses that protect me from the rest of the world, making it possible for me to love someone. Everywhere else I feel cold and ashamed, and standing next to him then, just hours later, he hardly mattered to me at all. I felt like watching a movie. I wanted to be alone with my parents. Then I wondered why it’s so hard for me to converse easily with someone I’m fvckign, and figured he deserved some kind of response.

“What does? The street?”

“The patterns made by the water. It almost looks like the surf just rolled off the smooth sand. At night the sand almost looks gray.”

“Funny thing about light. Without it there isn’t any color at all, right? Take that shirt you’re wearing, for instance. In this light it matches the concrete but I’m seeing that it’s red because I remember it’s red. Pigment may be absolute but light is a moral relativist.” These thoughts, pouring out of my mouth like vomit, sounded so much better in my head. I was trying to be interesting and likeable.

He turned to look at me fondly then and I knew what was coming. Fear lurched in my lower intestine and I blushed a violent shade of beach sand gray. Why does he always have to buy into my bull****?

“You gave me this shirt, remember?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Your mother bought it for you but you gave it to me because it didn’t fit. When you went to the bathroom at the restaurant, she asked about it. Said it suited me perfectly and told me you were always quick to share when you were a kid.”

“That’s because I never liked the crap she bought me.”

“Liar. You were nice. C’mon. Tell me you were sweet natured and generous." His grin was borderline impish.

“Alright. I was nice.” It wasn’t even a lie. When I was a kid loved everybody.

“I think she knows about us.”

“So.” This disconcerted me greatly.

“So, maybe I could come around more. If she knows we don’t have to worry about her suspecting. She doesn’t seem to mind, and…”

“Fine.” It was stupid to stay disconcerted for long. My life has a way of deciding things for me, which is kind of comforting. It’s a load off to give someone what they want when there’s no practical reason not to.

"Do you mean it? Your house is so much more comfortable than mine, so much warmer. My folks are always fighting and it’s making winter break feel like a tedious experiment in devolution. Sometimes I think I was raised by well trained gorillas.

I laughed and it was genuine. Suddenly the idea of him being around more didn’t seem so terrible. He was my boyfriend, wasn’t he? We’d been dating for a few months. We were interested in the same subjects at school. The sex was wonderful - achingly so. Perhaps we could become better people together. Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much. Maybe my parents really don't care and are just waiting to hear it all from my own lips. I rarely ever give anyone enough credit. We could spend the majority of our winter break sequestered in my bedroom where I would find it so much easier to love him and be good to him. The world would be some invisible, unseen, unknown threat surrounding us as we sneak smokes on the rooftop and read to each other. I’m a closet romantic.

He hugged me tightly and I wrapped my arms around him. I suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere else. We continued to walk down the street to where the car was parked and I noticed that wet leaves had stopped up the gutter and there was a pile of refuse – most likely our cigarette butt included - encircling the leaves like a filthy halo. Life is like that: we move in a steady direction until it hits a road block or runs into traffic, and that’s when Destiny has a head on collision with Chance. It feels good to be stuck in traffic from time to time, giving you a moment’s pause to reflect on your existence. Here we are and only for a brief time, and if you are lucky enough to be loved, hopefully you’re smart enough not to piss all over it. At least that’s what I think I’m meant to learn from Adam. I'm not entirely sure what he's supposed to learn from me, though.

Adam lit up another cigarette and I watched a puff of smoke swirl and mix into the cooler air. The garbage halo tugged at the periphery of my eye and maybe I don’t care that much about the environment but my personal aesthetics were revolted. I bent down to pick up an assortment of cigarette filters, cans and take-out boxes, and Adam released a noise of surprised disgust. “What are you doing? That’s disgusting!”

“I agree. It IS disgusting, which is why I’m going to throw this **** away in the waste basket can over there. And when we’re done with that cigarette, it’s going into the basket, as well. I hate litter.”

“Okay.”

“I hate it!”

“I hear you. Calm down. I won’t litter anymore. Promise. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.” I deposited the trash and Adam tried to take my hand.”

“Don’t, they’re dirty.”

“I don’t care.” He grabbed for me again and his palm was calloused and friendly. I apologized for mine being somewhat sticky.

“I won’t litter anymore. I promise.” I looked at him and imagined I could be a person who could love another person forever.

“Thank you, Adam.”

Yes. Indeed. Thank you, Adam.

[Boss Radio]

You must spread some Mojo around before giving it to Eliza Hodgkins 1812 again.