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Bob Dylan - Creative Writing

*So today in my CW class we had a prompt to write prose with lyrics to a Bob Dylan song as the starting off point…and mine ended up being about something like sex or rape or idk. I didn’t share it with the class because..awkward. 

Smiling & Humming & Smiling & Giggling

We sit here stranded though we’re all doing our best to deny it. The smoke enters our lungs in a strange lucid manner as the night sky begins to play it’s tricks. In the middle of the day with no light left to play - I hold my coat close to warm myself. Ash softly pricks holes in the snow. I ponder over why anyone would want to live here - in the middle of fucking nowhere Alaska. Susan is already drunk - but I think she is pretending. She only took two sips and didn’t even swallow.

I want Susan and she wants me. I am sure of it. 

A small constellation of freckles lines the side of her cheekbone and she laughs as the picture of her skin dances. I connect the lines with my eyes are she reaches to her side for another false sip of clear liquid. Her neck is soft and pale, blue veins and tight skin. I want to kiss her. But only on her neck for now - because that spot is the most intimate part with clothes on. I take another drag and lift my head up to the sky - where constellations match Susan’s skin. I lit a joint as the stars begin to move haphazardly - then all at once - dancing left to right with Susan’s laugh a melody in the background. I feel dizzy like a kid spinning in circles around and around just for the sake of doing it. Susan’s hand touches my thigh - or has it been here all along? I knew she wanted me. I groan - maybe I say her name in this groggy state. Please Susan, please.

I rest my head against the snow as my hair grows damp and sticky. Susan was next to me - the bottle laced between her hands - almost empty. I didn’t realize she had drank so much. But, she still wants me. I fumble with the belt on my pants - careful not to pull them too far down that my bare ass would freeze. She is smiling with her eyes closed and sometimes she starts to hum. So I know she isn’t sleeping. Susan’s clothes were easy to help her remove as she lays back humming. I pull down her tights under a dress and she is there waiting for me. She is still smiling and humming and smiling and giggling. So I know it is okay to push my body on top of hers even if her voice has suddenly fallen silent. 

0 notes / 3 weeks ago


Self Portrait, Amsterdam, 1952.
eauderose:

James Stewart and Olivia de Havilland, Hollywood, California, c. 1936.
dull-bones:


Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire rehearsing in Paris for Funny Face, 1957Photographed by Richard Avedon
life:

Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly backstage at the RKO Pantages Theatre during the 28th Annual Academy Awards, 1956. See more photos here.
(Allan Grant—Time & Life Pictures/Getty Images
seabois:

Audrey and her son Luca photographed by Bob Willoughby.

F. Scott Fitzgerald offers advice to a fellow writer, plus an unusual prayer.


The postscript is mysterious. Did Fitzgerald forget to send this letter, and add a note before mailing it “years later’? Regardless, his list of rustic alcohols followed by a prayer is not to be missed.
 
 http://slate.me/VqfY1K
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