This is not the Story

This is not the story about the old girl and the driving rain, not
the story of the car rocking in the storm, not the story of the
subsequent call to arms. This is not the story of her sweetness, not
the story of the two of them, not the story of what should be and what
isn't. This is not the story that dwells upon her hairline or his
fingers, not the story of her, not the story of him, not the story of
the moments that lead to this. This is not a love story, or its
opposite.

This is not the story he wrote by hand, not the story he conjured from
chewing on the end of a pencil. This is not the story that came fully
formed, not the story he wrestled with, and not the story that seeped
out of him like blood from a gut wound. This is not the story he didn't
get around to. This is not the great story. This is not the story that
changes everything. This is not the story that was too good to write,
not the story he flinched from because he lacked the goddamn talent or
ambition or whatever the blue fuck you want to call it.

This is not the Japanese story that went nowhere. This is not the
London story that became a novel but remained unpublished despite
interest from David Godwin. This is not the Afghanistan story he wrote
for money, not the Czech story he wrote for sex, not the American story
he wrote to kill time. This is not the story that spiked a hole in the
world. This is not the story that showed everybody, finally.

This is not the story he wrote on a fag packet in a club, kneeling
below a sweaty wet stairwell. This is not the story he wrote while
ripped to the tits, the bleached bones of which he couldn't remember
writing in the starched light of day. This is not the story he gouged
clear of his reflection in her dirty mirror, not the story he wrote in
his head while she sucked his cock with that pierced tongue of hers.
This is not the story inspired by Bret Easton Ellis. This is not the
story inspired by Richard Brautigan. This is not the story inspired by
Ray Carver. This is not the story inspired by Rimbaud and called White
Niggers. This is not the story called Cumshot. This is not the story
called Aerial View. This is not the story called Passenger. This is not
the story called Ixnay, not the story called Amscray, not the story
called Blixen.

This is not the story of his life. This is not the story that begs and
pleads for another chance, not the story that breaks its spine over
you. This is not the story that needs you, not the story that wants
you, not the story that knows how to live without you.

This is not the story of his life.

This is the story of a man any man pick a man who stood boiling by a
kettle wondering what the fuck to do next.