More paragraphs from my unpublished NaNoWriMo novel. (I started writing this before Terence Malick released Knight of Cups.) I see how much of this made it into I Miss The World.
FOUR OF CUPS 1976
Did you hear about Milius? And the guy on the porch doesn’t want to know because he already knows. The sunset is streaky as bacon tonight. The back of his throat burns from skunk. What year is it? he asks and the other people in the hotel room laugh at his sarcasm. It’s not a joke. If he sees one more blonde he’s going to scream. His mouth closes on cotton candy. Someone offers a mirror. If he takes it he’s beholden to them. The good time goes on and on. This sun is hovering forever over La Brea, burning down and taunting. You just want this chapter to close, it mocks, you want the credit roll. And it’s true: nothing good is going to happen. The tar pits are full of USC graduates, Godard acolytes. Let’s get on with this oblivion, he thinks, and leans over the mirror like Narcissus. It’s such a lovely place. The powder white lines are the voice in the pool, I love only you, he leans deep and falls in. And when the ideas come fast and sharp in a Clorox burn he wants them all to shut up, stop it, stop crowding my throat, stop fooling me, taunting me, what about me me me and the blonde on the bed her eyes are mascaraed to hedgehog points and the saliva gloss on her rabbity teeth is drying to a dull sheen because she won’t shut her mouth, just sits half-pithed and he wants to scream stop breathing through your mouth I can see the enamel turn to yellow ivory and he’s across the room with his flat fat salty hand over her mouth just lick your lips goddammit, you’re driving me crazy and soon two guys are upon him Jesus give it a rest, don’t punch the guy who brought you coke who gives a fuck about Milius and his deal? And one is by her side Easy baby, stroking her hair, making that easy baby, so easy. Easy for everyone but me.