by Geoff Schutt, from "Untitled"
(not an Eleanor excerpt, as much as I know so far,
but necessary words for Day Seven)
The first time we kissed was the only time in my life that I let go of all inhibitions. I wanted to kiss you that much. With that much force of emotion.
Your lips were chapped. I loved you right then, when I kissed your chapped lips.
It was a kiss played out in the movies, except that this was us, and I was pressing you up against a wall, and forcing my lips on yours, and yet you wanted me as much as I wanted you, and that’s what made kissing you like a miracle. If I had waited to kiss you, the miracle would’ve been lost. If you didn’t kiss me back, if this wasn’t reciprocal, the miracle would’ve never happened. But it did happen. My lips on your chapped lips, and we made out against the wall outside of that bar and we could have stayed there all night, just making out.
Kissing you, I didn’t have to use any special tricks. I didn’t have to try for eroticism to be erotic. I don’t think our tongues touched. We were so entirely focused with our lips, mouth on mouth, this intimacy, this rush of wanting the other’s lips, and that was enough. We didn’t need to add anything to this moment.
We were like a scoop of ice cream, pick your favorite flavor, but that done, your favorite flavor is the best you’ve ever tasted, so you don’t need chocolate on top, or sprinkles, or chunks of a candy bar. You don’t need this ice cream in a fancy cup. You don’t need it in a sugar cone. You just want the ice cream, by itself, and you can’t stop eating it, you just can’t stop.
That’s what it was like, kissing you, pressing your body against the wall of that bar but not needing to grope you for cheap thrills, just kissing you. Who would dare deny us after this? We could conquer the world together, so strong we were, so strong was our kiss.
I don’t think I ever thanked you enough for kissing me in return. I don’t think I thanked you even once.
And now I wish I could thank you properly -- but I would not know how or where to begin.
To Reach The Green Light At The End Of The Pier
FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES: "We are saving ourselves through the words," says Eleanor, the leading lady of a novel-in-progress. This exploration into the creative process -- which includes plenty of distractions/tangents /thoughts & rants by Eleanor, her Biographer, and selected guest artists -- will continue until Eleanor is certain her story is "right." (But we dare not jump ahead of ourselves.)
There will be the occasional typo (as Eleanor points out), and much of this is intended to be "original draft" -- what comes out of our mouths (heads) first, and then set down in that order. Not all of it will be included in the novel, but all of it is happening in real time.
ELEANOR says: "Please turn the page. Keep reading."
For more of Eleanor and her Biographer -- as well as the work of our many guest artists -- check out the older postings. "Everything is part of the process, and the process is the journey," Eleanor says.