"Well, it's the same problem as always. I can't write."
"Ok. We spoke some about this last week..."
"Yes, and I did try to write something. I had this vague idea about this girl,
the girl is me, and she's in the porn industry, and while she's getting fucked
by these two guys, well, she's getting it from behind from one and the other
she's doing oral on, and while this is happening she's thinking about this guy
she met at Danceteria a few nights before, and she really likes him a lot, but
she feels unworthy, because she's a porn actress, and he's like some hipster
artist type or something."
"So you feel unworthy?"
"Huh? Where did that come from?"
"You said the girl in the story was you."
"I did not."
"I'm fairly certain I heard you say that."
"I didn't mean it. The story is written first person. Maybe that's what I said."
"Ok. Please. Continue."
"So what else happens? I mean, she can get with the guy and something bad would
have to happen, like he would kill her or or something, or maybe she could OD
while doing the scene she's doing for the movie and she just dies thinking of
the guy but never gets with the guy. It can't turn out good. Happy endings make
for really dull stories."
"Would you like it to turn out OK for her?"
"No. Because no one would want to read that."
"Do you see any parallels?"
"Are you trying to say that I feel unworthy?"
"We had that discussion a few weeks ago about that man you met on the business
trip."
"I didn't meet him on the trip. I knew him before."
"Yes, but that was the first time you met in person, right?"
"Yeah, but I knew him. I thought I knew him. I wasn't expecting him, though.
I wasn't expecting it to be so nice. I haven't felt like that since I was 17."
"What happened when you were 17?"
"Nothing happened when I was 17! It's just that was the first time in like 15
years that I felt that good just laying around for a week with the same person,
never getting impatient, never wishing that I could go to the pool, or go see
a movie, never thinking about my damn laundry. I didn't even check my email
for a week! Nothing else existed for me."
"And nothing since."
"Nothing has existed since?"
"No. I mean there's been no contact. Since."
"No, not really. But what the hell was I expecting? I mean, he's with someone,
right?"
"So it can't turn out the way you would like it to turn out."
"How could it? There's no way he feels the same way I do, because I'm fucking
insane! It's stupid! I know it's stupid! I didn't think it was gonna be like
that! I should have just stayed at the roulette table..."
"So, in a way, you are the girl. In the story."
"No, because I don't feel unworthy! I feel pissed off! I mean, why is he with
her and not with me? Not that there's anything wrong with her, I don't even
know her, but I mean, christ, the things he said, jeezus. And he's so good!
Am I confusing technique with passion? I mean... goddam. Why am I so stupid."
"Why don't you write this story. And give it a happy ending."
"I can't. No one would want to read that."
copyright 1999 Marie Mundaca