If this story were its own blog, would you read it?

Last semester, DeCal-less and bored, I wrote some random snippets about Delila & Gordon. I showed them to Casey and a few others mostly for entertainment; there were no long-term goals and no motifs and no bells nor whistles. Now G&D are sitting on my desktop sleepy and lonely (they love attention)...

...think if I made their story into a blog, people might read it?

Here's the little beginning....

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“The only secret people keep is immortality.” --Emily Dickinson

“Marriage: friendship recognized by the police.” --Robert Louis Stevenson

He wasn’t really the kind of person you wanted to have coffee with. People stared. This is what Delila was thinking about when the barista (coffeeboy) squealed her name in a man-boy broken note.

IF it were really true what Delila’s father had always said--that relationships were defined forever within the first ten minutes of the first date--then Delila should be concerned about once again hurting this man’s fragile, love-massacred feelings. IF it were really true that he was now serving as an actress’s sex slave, perhaps a one-night-stand wouldn’t linger in his mind for too long. Delila wiggled her ass when she tugged down her skirt on the way to get the skinny vanilla latte.

Once, she thought she was one of the few people neurotic (and post-anorexic) enough to order a tall non-fat sugar-free vanilla latte. She whispered her order to the Starbucks boys. But then they changed the name of that drink to a skinny latte, one solid two-lettered common-drink title, which signaled that (a) there were several other equally neurotic recovering anorexics and (b) Starbucks wanted to make the women face the fact that they were still trying to be skinny. Delila didn’t think of it at this moment, but it also signaled that (c) the word skinny had a positive connotation in Los Angeles, unlike in much (most) of the world.

Gordon was flicking sugar packets at the wall when she returned to the table. People were staring. Still.

Gordon was the type of man who did not notice that people stared at him. In fact, if you asked him if he felt stared at, he would laugh and tell you that he is not that good-looking. He thought only good-looking people were stared at.

He was also the type of man who did not bathe more than once a week, and did not believe in taking off his snow coat. Even in Starbucks. Even in Los Angeles. Even in July.

Thirdly, he was the type of man who had an exorbitantly thick facial hair, although it was not long. He had very dirty-colored head hair, although it was not (too) dirty. His eyes had a piercingly blue color (which made Delila tense her thighs), although they did not piercingly stare (except sometimes at Delila, ten years ago).

Gordon’s irises were merely a result of God bestowing upon Gordon’s ugly mother one redeeming quality to keep her genealogical line going. It turned out to be unnecessary since Gordon’s father was half-blind and usually piss-drunk.

Delila liked (likes? Delila: no comment) Gordon not only because of the way the light happened to bounce off the insides of his eyeballs. She also liked him because, as much as it made her uncomfortable to have strangers staring at them in Starbucks, there was something liberating about the way they sat across the table from each other, saying not a word for twenty minutes. Especially since she had not seen him in ten years. And especially since he obviously had a lot to tell.

And especially since she usually talked so much, too much, to anyone she could stick her claws words into. Someone once told her, in her second semester of college, that she approached a conversation the way a Spartan woman would approach a cougar near her male baby. It was not the first or last time that someone compared Delila to a Spartan woman. Delila was high at the time and spent the rest of the night obsessing about whether or not cougars existed in the same geographical area and historical time-span as Spartans. It was the second-to-last time she smoked marijuana, and the only thing she could remember about the night.