No news today - Guest Post - Sean Lovelace

No News about my Sex Life

Most days crows perch on the curtain rod and ignore The Velveeta. Dogs treat The Velveeta in one of three ways: 1. Stare it down snarling. 2. Sniff, wait, sniff, sniff, wait…lick away. 3. Slumber.

Two hundred and fifty catastrophes. Touching a sore spot, for example. Unflattering noise. Locks that do not lock. Protesters hiding in armpits and various throats. Multiple passwords. Multiple aftershocks. Never enough salt, for the triangles. My ex-wife who kicked The Velveeta while dying. People who refuse the dying, who play coy.

Silverware says in pearly clatter, “Looks like this is going to take all night.”

The pebble and the water and the grit. The brick. Power shortages. Audacity while the television smells of suffering. Twitters of toilet paper.

Hung in the shape of Q, these other ones. The Makeup Man. The cookbook. My new girlfriend. The curious reporters (see dogs above). The woman who wept about airstrikes while eating Ramen noodles. The man who closed his eyes. The man who blogged The Velveeta, live. The slippery phone. What to make of this buzzing? Kicking left and right and backwards simultaneously. EXIT signs. The boss and the boss’s wife.

The brick oven. Slatted oval windows and vents. Mudslides of air and light. Joint statements.

Example: I show up spectacularly drunk with a video camera and throw it hard into The Velveeta. We pull and we pull, but we can’t pull it out.

Just another conversation.

The cleaning of the oven and the dirtying of the oven.

The man I bring home says, “I see already this room has many rooms.”

If you squint your eyes…

Yawning crows. They suggest, Kill the lights.

Sean Lovelace is dropping two books in June 2011, Fog Gorgeous Stag (Publishing Genius Press) and, with fellow flash authors, They Could No Longer Contain Themselves: A Collection of Five Flash Chapbooks (Rose Metal Press). He has decided to write only about Velveeta for the remainder of 2011. He likes to drink beer and to run, far.