THE WEAVE:
Uranus whispers back
to Vesta, in the Library…
"I listened to you, the last Time I saw you. You said, 'You need to live in it, for it to take off.' And Now, I am more like the narcissist I am characterizing, than ever. I've written 120 pages, in my screenplay, in two moons. I'm brilliant." "That's cool..." Vesta trails, "I've published 450 poems since last April." "What's the Word count?" Uranus asks competitively. Vesta shrugs, "Fuck if I know. The 450 are just the ones who made it to the 'Big Time' -meaning my little blog. The Word count, is much higher. But the point is, after a while, the Word just comes, and there is Nothing you need to do about it. So congratulations! We can name it, a successful experiment. You have proven my hypothesis." "Being your lab-rat makes me feel a little bit deflated," Uranus pouts. "Don't worry, U," Vesta pats him on the head, "Your Word, is meant to be famous. Mine, is meant to collect, like Dust on a bookshelf." "Does that make you sad?" Uranus looks at V, proud to be who he is, and pitying her. "No, U," V smiles, "It makes me, me."
Planetary Signatures 