“Like the waters of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there.”
-Truman Capote, In Cold Blood
I see Truman Capote from time to time. He shops at Whole Foods and his staples are haunting little mysteries that would strip the plush off ryegrass. His epicurean habits are a brilliant formula of brevity meeting up with Caravaggio.On this occasion, his cart holds California Champagne Vinegar, Goat Cheese Mini-Medallions, 7-Up, Cippoline Onions, Castelvetrano olives and Blueberry Pie.
He is always alone, the erstwhile city dweller tending to his daily palette in a high stepping gallivant. But his mood is always somber and his eyes remain hidden as he goes about his business. It’s like he wants the world to turn on its heels and take two steps back from him, because he doesn’t recognize its presence any longer. The whole idea bothers him more than slightly, so his manner is stilted and abrupt. He peddles his cart mockingly, as if a medieval trouvere forced to conceptualize romance for minstrels.
When he stands in the checkout line, he breathes in his gut like Harper Lee used to do every time Truman went deep sea fishing for the hook to a new story. He fidgets like the typical introvert who’s trapped inside an extroverted body as his brain types witty banter for the checkout lady, to be delivered in fifteen items or less.
I watch him part the sliding glass doors with none of the flourish he once possessed so mightily, back inside a time when his walk for the morning paper held court with a million different crime scenes for his recklessly ambitious mind.
Now he departs and it reminds me of the sleep that has inhabited his absence from the world, a gaping tempest of a wound. His form begins its vanishing act, back to the lonely plains of New Orleans and Manhattan, Portofino and Bel Air. And I want to call out to him, because I have so many questions; the kind he used to answer in bold font, once upon a time.
I want to ask about his time in Garden City. And how he ransomed the words to make heartache speak so kindly. I want to know how he found inspiration as his feet dangled off the edge, and I want to know why the world doesn’t speak the same language as the lions who once roamed here.
He’ll fix me with a look before bemoaning the fact that ninety percent of the life we know is too dull to mention. And then he’ll say something like “Make the ten percent you do plumb worth giving a shit about,” And then I’ll fix us up with a couple tumblers of J&B Rare and light his Gold Flake cigarette as he carves the first sentence to a thousand different lanes of thought
This is gonna be good.
B,
You know how much I love it when you write like this. I find myself reading it once just for the basic read, then a second time, to absorb your fabulous prose and often (ok, always,) a third time to just bathe in the world you have created with your marriage of metaphors and linguistic and historical references (which often send me to Google). Then, like John, I want to throw my laptop into the river.
Let me tell you one thing I know for sure. Truman would have loved and appreciated what you write.
Always,
Q
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Q,
If it keeps the voices at bay, it’s worth it no?
As for the blueprint? I would fail a 101 class on the stuff, and truth be told I was miserable in the class I took way back in the day. Ugh.
Don’t be rash, you bring so much tasty to your grammatical delicacies!
I (we) can dream huh? 😉
And always,
B
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Absolutely!
Hey there are a poop load of writers who know diddly-squat about grammar yet their stories are so good, editors clamour to help them apostrophise and commacize (yeah, I’m making up words, now). Some learn to write through school lessons, others have an innate ability to do so. Like you.
Okay, okay, I won’t be rash. I’ll keep on keeping on and learning and improving – it’s why I surround myself with such fabulous writers!
We definitely can. And do.
And then some.
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The ideas are better left to just happening ones, I think. For me anyway. It is one of those things where details can get in the way if you think too hard. I’ve been called on various literary crimes in the past, to which I just shrug.
You do you. You’re so much more enjoyable than most writers.
Much buttah and love
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Agree. Thinking too hard does get in the way of creativity sometimes. Pffft! Shrug away. Call it creative license.
I will do me. And you give high praise. I shall bask a bit in it.
And some maple syrup to sweeten said love.
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Some people need rules the way some people need fences. But I never tire of hearing about the violations. That’s just the way I am.
Remember to give equal coverage to all parts of your fine self when basking.
You’re a little bit maple, I’m a little bit boysenberry. It’s why we get along so swimmingly.
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This is also true. Some never dare to break the rules and honestly, who is remember most? Rule breakers… You’re in good company.
I will do so… Front, back and sides .. 😉
Sweet and tart, eh? Sounds like a perfect match… Might as well tickle all the parts of the tonge by adding salty and spicy 😉
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The Rule Breakers . . . coming soon to Amazon Prime.
Now tap your toes and dosey doe and where it stops nobody know . . . .
We umm . . . I’m parched now so umm . . . HO?
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It would make a killing!
Grab your partner, round and round!
He he he…
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Can’t be worse than some of the fare they’ve got going on there at present.
And kick up your heels and paint the town!
Hahaha!
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Would be way more “inneresting”….
Coming with?
Tee hee….
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There are like, three million different series on Prime right now. All original. So I mean, they can’t all be home runs, yanno?
I enjoy painting the town and staying in. Both.
😘
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Laptop thrown. Who am I but a simple pretender.
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Oh come now, Mark.
Pass the whatever it is you’re drinking.
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You write in a way I can only dream about.
It’s beer, by the way.
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Salud!
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No. You can’t throw yours. You’ve gone your own voice, which is very enjoyable.
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Yeah, but … okay, never mind. Thank you.
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Right. Good. Glad you got it. 😉 And you’re welcome. I am not one to throw compliments willy-nilly. I say what I believe.
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I’m in your boat! Watch that sucker sink where I tossed mine.
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Nicely done. I’ll be the guy at the back taking notes….
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Thank you good sir.
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I enjoyed this piece, Marc. I am a huge Truman Capote fan not only for his words but for the fact that he went full out until he exploded. He would love the way you have described this interaction. Like Dale said I’m lofting this sombitch into the pond. (I’ll be close behind.)
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You know what John? I think the Dos Equis people screwed up royally when they didn’t nab you for their commercial spots.
I’d give you a MUAH! . . but I kinda reserve those for a certain someone, yanno?
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Yeah. Hold those MUAHs. Might be a better use for them over there. 😀
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Yes, they seem to work quite well there.
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Hahahaha.
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He would have loved your words and hated the world.
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Thank you Pam
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No part of life is full or boring though….
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You’re right, it’s how it be
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😉
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I want to run up and give you a big hug for introducing me to a new word – trouvere. You’ve made this logophile very happy!
I can’t count the number of times I’ve either thought, or actually said out loud, that had I been born a few centuries ago I would have been a traveling minstrel, telling stories and playing music, an adorable mongrel as companion. Of course I would have had to dress as a male like (the now-icky queen of goop) Ms. Paltrow in Shakespeare in Love, but since I’ve never been into fashion, no hardship, that.
Truman was a master. An odd duck, too, but sometimes that’s what it takes, eh?
Excellent playful imagining of encountering him in a mundane setting like a grocery store, Marc. Well done!
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Rebecca,
I forgot where I read it, but that word always stuck with me. And your hug has been accepted, virtually speaking. 🙂
This would not have been the worst life, a few centuries ago. And you would have had a most loyal of work pals at your side. You can’t ask for more than that.
I think the odd ducks created the works we read, write, debate, watch and gush over in museums. Here’s to odd ducks.
And a Whole Foods at that. Which is just so unrealistic since . . I hardly ever shop at Whole Foods . . 😉
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Started to read this earlier but could not rush such a well crafted work of writing art.
I agree with Dale with this
– so good with your Sentence style and “marriage of metaphors and linguistic and historical references”
🤸🏼♂️
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Thank you so much Prior. 🙂
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People who can write like you, Marc, don’t create the book on craft (or bother reading it), but just inhabit it like an alternate universe. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s where you were when you envisioned everything in this brilliant piece.
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Well, Eilene. You leave me speechless. Other than to say thank you. Much. 🙂
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You’re very welcome 😊
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Have a great Tuesday, Eilene. 🙂
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