I’m on a hot streak of aborted tweets. Meaning I keep thinking of tweets, and then decide against them, either because I’m lazy or driving or because they’re not very clever.
But then… what if they really are clever?
Aborted Tweet 1: Finally got around to that tempura shrimp
Right. The difficulty is that momentousness can be difficult to communicate, but there are two factors at play here:
A few months ago, I bought tempura shrimp from Trader Joe’s, thinking that sometime, I might have a genteel sort of nighttime gathering in my studio apartment. Two people would sit in the twenty-four inch, Virginia Cross-Back kitchen chairs I ordered from Overstock, and two people would lean against the counter and we’d get so engrossed in conversation that we’d forget about everything until that greasy smell from the oven reminded us that we had a baking sheet full of tempura shrimp.
That was a few months ago. Meaning that reluctant as I was to give up on my fantasy of gentility, it took special circumstances for me to crack that box of shrimp and eat them alone. But, I found a way, and it’s called—total neurosis. In this case, the relevant neurosis would be the odd and possibly anorexia-inducing impulse to eke out as much from my kitchen as possible, without going grocery shopping. Because thinking about Trader Joe’s lately has come to feel like sort of a nightmare.
Aborted Tweet 2: I only didn’t shower because I was in the airport, on my way back to LA, where I live now, and am at work on a new novel, because the first one didn’t get anywhere… How are you?
This one was going to be to my former roommate, from Paris, whom I’ve slept with, in reply to her tweet. And the main problem was I couldn’t figure out how to shorten it without ignoring one of the questions she’d originally posed. I thought for a second, couldn’t decide what to axe—The shower? The novel?—so I forgot about it, and figured I’d email her sometime later, when drunk and lonely.
Aborted Tweet 3: Blew nose, blood in mustache. #healthproblems
This one just seemed inappropriate, even if it was true. But I have a seriously messed up infection right now. It’s in my nose and in my gums. I can feel it in the whole front of my face. I’ve been swishing ginger tea all day to make my gums tingle so that I can’t feel anything. Normally I’d just assume it was your typical psychosomatic situation, but fuck, nothing like a little blood in the mustache to confirm your worst fears.
Tom Dibblee is Trop’s editor. His fiction has appeared in Glimmer Train and his nonfiction has appeared in Pacific Standard, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and the Point. He lives in Los Angeles.