existential toothpaste…

The Mandy Brush

He bent down to rinse the toothpaste out of his mouth and his left side cramped up. The cramp was the most severe pain he’d felt in his life. The sensation seemed like a vise tightening on his left rib cage and reticulating down to his hip.

He fell and the toothbrush lodged in his throat. And what happened next he thought ungodly — the Barry Manilow song “Mandy” began to loop in his head: “Oh, Mandy, You came and you gave without taking, and I need you today, oh Mandy…

What the fuck have I done, god? Please don’t let me die with this goddamned song in my head…

“…but I sent you away, oh Mandy
well you kissed me and stopped me from shaking…”

Then he remembered his Nietzche: god is dead… god remains dead… and we have killed him…”

“…but I sent you away, oh Mandy
you kissed me and stopped me from shaking
and I need you…”

This is awful, he rasped with his agonal breath.

“Don’t believe that graduate school will somehow make you a writer. Go into the world, get a job that sustains you, and write. If you are writing because you have to, if you are writing when no one is looking and no one cares, then you may indeed be a writer—and you need to cope with that.”
— Alyson Hagy

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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