Fiction Sings

[susanstinson]

Via slit:

Why not post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me? It can be anything you want – good or bad – BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.

Anything graceful and unlikely especially appreciated. Gripping is good, too.

Comments

[une-femme-est.livejournal.com]

Oh, Susan, how I dearly cherish the memories of the jazz & gin palace we ran in the basement of our candy shop! The sweet days and smokey nights! And the time you stole the show from Saxophone Jack, you on the stage with pearls looped round your neck and beaded dress, jamming with the boys, the wildest sound I ever did hear.

What a disappointment it was when we realized it was 1992 and not 1929 as we had been lead to believe. We should never have let the calendar get in the way of our friendship and dreams.

[susanstinson.livejournal.com]

Oh my. As I'm typing, I can still see you standing there with the caramel turtles that I flung in our terrible last fight stuck to the keys of your beloved accordion. There was a mint patty smeared on your cheek. I never told you how jealous I was of your musicianship, the seriousness always working underneath all of those four am champagne swims in the fountain in the square. You'll always be a flapper in my book.