Davey Calls Miranda

"Hey. I'm drunk already, and it's only eight here."
"Hahaha! You kill me. Davey, how did you get drunk so early?"
"There was La Fin Du Monde involved. Apparently I'm not gangsta enough to handle such high voltage beer."
"Hey. Question."
"Yeah, shoot."
"You've never written a piece about me."
"That's not a question."
"You know what I'm saying."
"Well, you've never written a piece about me; I mean, I can't write about you, you're a writer. That always seems weird. But hey, I mean, I've written pieces for you, a lot in fact. Five or six. That's more than anybody, I think. Dude, I just wrote the Cake essay for you."
"You wrote a piece about Mathisen, he's a writer. And he's brilliant. Brilliant."
"Yeah, one. And it was like 10 lines long. And flattering. And I only wrote that in part to expose the whole I-know-that-you-know-that-we-all-know-that-Davey-was-forwarding-our-e-mails-to-each-other thing. I thought it was funny. And kinda poignant. Hmm, you know? The three of us. All we have."
"Right. Stories. I remember. But like, I mean, can't I be your muse, you know...just once?"
"Muse. That is the worst title anyone can have--trust me, I've dated lots of musicians. I hate it."
"You can never have your muse, you know? I mean, how much of all of this, everything around us and all of our stories and all of our everyday everything is all based around this one idea that there are beautiful women out there that men can't have. Soft and curvy and deliciously beautiful women. I guess it's worth it you know? Even if stories are all you can ever have."
"Yeah. S'pose. Have you talked to Mathisen lately?"
"Not since I was in New York. Not really."
"That's kid's too stressed out for his own good."
"Yeah, it can happen. Get him drunk."
"C'mon, that's a great idea."
"Oh, Miranda. I so knew it--there was some deal sealing. I knew it! This is great, you know? Like it's all coming full circle, and it was all me. I created it, and it was all me. This is terrible. Perfect.
"Whoa, slow down. You're drunk."
"I'm sorry, you know? I mean, I left something out a year ago. I mean, I didn't mean to hurt you, but you need this. I need this. I know both of you, and I need your heart torn out and tossed into the Bay. I want tears and pining and ice cream and all of the everything else that goes with that. I want cake. And don't you see that this is perfect? That you could be so terribly hurt and I could write the greatest story ever told. Don't you see it? Don't you want this?"
"What? What the fuck? Wait, back up. You left something out?"
"Yeah, well what I meant to say was 'Mathisen is everything you're looking for in a boy, but he's a heartbreaker'. It's the eyes."
"If it's anything, it's the dimples. That being said, there's no such thing as heartbreakers, only heartbreakee's and people who know they've allied themselves with one. Trust. I've been on both sides. That being said, are you saying that you gave me Mathisen's number a year ago so you could write a story? A STORY? And dude, on that note, slow you're roll. But what if things had gone as you had planned? What if, just like in all of your dreaming and scheming, I was left in a puddle of tears while you're typing away--you could be okay with that? Since when do people think I'm so susceptible to stuff like that? And hey, since when are we writing about other writers anyway?"
"Yo, homes. That's you're rule, not mine."
"Hmm. Muses? Fine. Done."
"Fine. Both of you are crazy. Brilliant. Beautiful. I can't believe you guys sometimes. Oh my god, you wanted a story. A story. I'll give you a story."
"No, I wanted a great story. The greatest story."
"Mine'll be better. Heartbreak not included. Trying to play God with two of my friends for a year also not included."
"You think?"
"Well, it's either that, or I get you back for this some other way."
"Cool. Story. Stories are all we have."
"Dude, I should be mad at you. Why aren't I mad at you?"
"'Cause I'm so unbelievably adorable."

[New piece soon. As per his wish, it stars Davey. Brilliant, crazy, beautiful Davey--cameos at this time seem to be forming around Mathisen, Olmstead, maybe Hunts and a little Jen up in there. Note that I only agreed to this 'cause he promised to write a song about me. A song that I actually like this time. It's funny how just when you think you have free will, you end up somebody's muse. Airplanes. Flight. Sex? Pass.]


quicky said...

we need to drink beer when your in B.C, we can take photos of us two kissing and send it to thao and make him all jelous. add me to your msn. croakerman@hotmail.com

quicky =)

~PhoenixRising said...

Yeah... I need to stop calling you when I drink! I never made it to the cab, though I did call one... instead I fell asleep... How non-punk-rock is that???
My fuckin roll got slowed.