Joel was swearing in the kitchen. From my bedroom I could hear him. It was for my benefit. He strung enough offensive words together that I laughed. He laughed. Then he pushed it further, improvising his vulgarity.
It became poetry of the profane when he said something about "maggots falling from the wound on the end of my tongue." I roared. He chuckled, realizing what he'd just said. I wrote it down.
Now this. Which took longer than was justifiable in a responsible person sort of way. I combined his imagery with mine.
Joel has recurring characters in his mutterings. There are recognizable settings, and an unfolding narrative. He has invented an entire universe. 27 years of development and it has taken on a real sophistication. It's an (accidental?) art. And like all arts it requires an audience. I'm his, and it is a privilege.
A few months ago I made a list of all the characters, settings, actions, etc. I have heard him mention, and posted it on our bathroom wall. I'm trying to piece it all together.