Nasrin Khosrowshahi

2012

seriously footnoted

Chapter one- the muse is sleeping 1- For once, she wishes she would nail it. Her novels are utterly rejected, her slight poem about “sunday in new york”, rejected, rejected. Submishmash has a new name, the website which lets you submit all your work and which distributes your stuff to magazines and literary agents. They are all based in new york city, as the whole publishing industry seems to be. She has a peppermint tea in artigiano, the one that is opposite of the art gallery, the one that is rated by eager “yelpians” as the place to go for serious peoplewatching. Not that she cares, this beautiful vancouverday should make her sing, not stare down on the grey asphalt to search for the next great sentence, for words and for words. Reluctantly, she makes her way to VPL, she finds herself typing on the third floor. Next to her a beautiful woman, very professionally, very. So, this is the rejected writer's office, the public library, VPL, vancouver public library, this is where her words stutter against the monitor, where her letters, her words, fight with each other, this is her art studio, her animationlab. Four years of art school turned into ten, now she writes, types, left the world of paint and lines, for good and for good. Summer in the city, so near, so near. It is 2012, but, hey, it could be anyyear. And she could be anywriter, for that matter. Ah, to be generic, replaceable, ah to be successless, successless. 2- He should have listened to his parents. Study medicine, poke your finger into other people's cavities, make some money, drive some nice car, live a white pickety fence life. For some reason he ended up as a serious drummer, which is pretty hard on your ears and your hands. And the gigs they are not there. He lives the in-the-gutter-life of a failed musician. 3- She scoffs her hand thru her hair, her description of the musician is pretty off, inaccurate, inaccurate. To fashion other people, to make up antagonists and/or protagonists, that does not

1

Nasrin Khosrowshahi

2012

seriously footnoted

seem to be her forte. And she never has a plot, the persons that she puts into her stories, they just ramble around, they refuse to march along the lines of plot, subplot, overarching, well, storyarc,somehow, the story never comes together, never, ever. Her stories are all slightly off, staring at anna karenina from the fences, the words never gel, they are like a very badly constructed chair, she giggles, there is this funny ad on TV, that appropriates a nice Do IT YOURSELF instruction film, you know, the vila-ish kind, the person looks like a seasoned handyman, but all he does, is, hammer nails into the wall at random, shelves collapse behind him, while he looks into the camera and dispenses serious advice, she ponders, her sentences are the same, they just disintegrate, stop midair, and she cannot really call it artsy-fartsy and get away with it. It used to work in art school, it does not really work in the real world, nobody will publish her stuff, nobody will read it. Ah, to be a doomed artist, a doomed one, a so very doomed one. 4- Suddenly, she wishes for a chamomile tea, they call it CALM tea in starbucks, but she prefers the one in ”mink”, the one that has a MIGHTY LEAF teabag, the one that is a tad red like a good zinfandel-ey rose. Her words so not really make sense, she ponders, how to construct her words, this is her first venture into SHORT STORY-land, she just lets go of the drummer-person, her story has one protagonist, herself, yeah, yeah, me and myself and the writer, her words sail along and make the reader feel empty or wanting for more or confused, this is a short story with one chapter, which is not right, but, hey, she does not really feel like writing more, a-writing more, so this is slightly fragmented, ah, why not and why not and why not and why not and why not and why not. 5- A woman walks by, the downtown library still happening, she is embracing a stack of books, wears black and white and a happy smile, the writer ponders, she somehow nailed it, she might
2

Nasrin Khosrowshahi

2012

seriously footnoted

as well slither back to artigiano, have another tea, peppermint or otherwise, her story has 731 words, that should do it, do it, the sun shines, she is a lousy writer, the muse refuses to kiss, ah, whatever, so very very whatever, whatever, whatever.

3

Nasrin Khosrowshahi

2012

seriously footnoted

4

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