Real Time Biography

Just me, talking about me, talking about nothing.

After finally figuring out what he’d call this tiny bit of writing, Adam sat there, hoping like crazy that the laptops would hold out for just a little while longer and not get worryingly toasty only inches away from his nuts while he typed. Adjusting his seating position and pulling the pillow from behind his back, he got to writing proper.

Just a few moments ago he’d finished watching a DVD, a rather important one at that. It was nothing really awe-inspiring or moving. It was the first volume of a cartoon series his friend directed. Though it wasn’t rightly ‘his bag’, he watched it because Caitlin made it, and a good job she did too. He even ended up enjoying the thing. Just watching this quaint little romantic comedy show made him feel a little warm and fuzzy. It was either the show or the illness he’d tried to convince himself he didn’t have.

It got him thinking anyways.

HE…was a dumbass. A dumbass in the nice way though. These days entertained by the simplest of things, and almost very hard to put down through any circumstance.

He had to hold on writing however, the cable at the back of his laptop was starting to get a leeetle too hot. The rubber around the metal connector tip was getting soft to the touch. Moving on after a quick switcher, Adam resumed tapping away.

Well so far the night or rather the whole day had been uneventful. The only thing he had to look forward to on his Friday off was sitting around in front of either his newly restored PC or his housemate’s PS3. Well tonight was just as bad, the only time he ventured outside was to do a little late shopping for food. On his walk to the local shop, he performed the usual ritual of winding up and pissing off the quite possibly large dog behind the fence on his way. Whatever that dog was, it had a deep and chesty bark and a loud snuffle whenever it jammed it’s face at the base of the fence to get Adam’s scent, possibly to track him down later with. The night was a sharp cold, a little too chilly for his liking and was very happy as he stepped under the warm heaters of the shop. After trying to figure out what to buy with the £5 he had to his name (the money he did have left over to go to the late rent he owed) Adam plucked up the New Scientist magazine on the shelf, liking to think he was somewhat of an intellectual. Flicking through the pages and scanning an article about memory, he stopped at a piece about some kind of proto-star. After reading the first paragraph, he snorted and placed the magazine back on the shelf. That was the one thing he hated about scientists, the claims that this or that little thing would grant them the answers to existence and how reality was created. Bloody Hell, give up all ready. Such things weren’t meant for our minds…or just yet at least . Focus your attentions elsewhere would ya, like curing the world’s diseases. Leave the mysteries alone.

Time for another paragraph.

So, after spending a little more money on food than he should have and forgetting to buy his lottery ticket for the following day, Adam headed home with food in hand, giving the secret dog behind the fece and few barks to get it started. Chuckling under his breath, his steps slowed a little as he passed the road sign. Knowlesey Road. He sighed at the name. Silly really, but whenever he saw that, it reminded him of the girl that got away, or rather the one he wish he had. Her second name was Knowles. Man he missed her.

The thing was, it wasn’t so bad though. Given a few months time, he’d be living in Mexico with his family, and only 300 miles from where she now lived, in the Caymans. Maybe he’d go visit her one day.

This was all daydreaming though, half fantasy and a reality he couldn’t quite grasp at this point in time. May seemed so far away right now, it wasn’t worth dwelling on just yet.

With pizzas now cooking in the oven, Adam gave the back of his head an idle scratch. His head was still swimming a little from an illness he wasn’t currently able to identify, but one he wasn’t too worried about.

As he sat there, face propped up on his palm as one hand typed, he wondered if any of those folks at WritersCafe would enjoy this kind of junk. It was the only thing he could currently come up with at this precise moment, and perhaps he was trying to prove to himself that his life wasn’t all that boring.

Would this even warrant a chapter 2? Heck, even a review? Well, it being the only thing in his head, maybe it would get those writing cravings going again. He’d been fumbling around for a while now.

Reviews

[Azaradelle]

An insight to a man's life, and a wonderful one at that. I think, although simple, this piece was done beautifully, and at first i thought it would be a wonderful beginning to a novel. I think it was the last paragraph that changed my mind. However, i do think you should continue it.
Interesting how, although it somewhat lacked a plot, the 'story' manages to keep a reader on his toes. And even though i think you wrote this piece more for yourself than anyone else, it is still rather captivating.
That said, the main character shouldn't really worry too much about dreaming. Sometimes it's all we have. Personally, i think he should go visit her, and try again. In the end, it's better to say 'i tried', rather than 'what if?'

I certainly hope writing this helped you waken your muse. Either way, i enjoyed reading it immensely.

Keep writing!

Yrs.

Azaradelle.