Now At This Moment No.2

Now I am starting over on the back side of the sheet of paper. At this moment I am wishing I didn't label this as the back side of the sheet of paper, as it could just as easily be the front depending on the way you approach it. Now I caught a glimpse of my water glass out of the edge of my vision, my periphery.

Now I have my attention distracted by the computer mouse that is napping on the upper left edge of it's mouse pad that is sitting next to this typewriter, on the right side. Now I am making sure to think about my right and left to be sure that I got them correct.

At this moment I am wishing that my typewriter didn't slide around so much. At this moment I am glad that it slides because it reminds me, at this moment, that I am typing fast enough for the sliding to be noticeable. Now I am feeling happy with this exercise. At this moment, I am really happy with the sound of this typewriter—the sound of the little metal arms beating their tiny fists on this page, as hard or as soft as I tell myself that I want to make them punch.

Now I am distracted by Jason's phone conversation. I was able to move past the initial ring, but at the moment I can tell that he is upset at all the racket that is coming from my typewriter. Now I am left to be in this room alone, as Jason couldn't hear his conversation over all the noise and he closed himself in the back room. At this moment I can still recall the slam of the bedroom door, followed by the silent pause, then his voice exclaiming an apology for the door's slamming. It was the draft that produced the force, not his muscles in reflex to the noise.

Now I am lost.

Now, I am realizing that I separated the start of this sentence with a comma, and ended it with one too, it can keep going on and on forever if you only end things with a comma instead of a period, there is no end to where it can take you, now I think I just came up with another writing exercise of my own, ending sentences with commas, and pulling out of them their own guts, in long stretches, for miles and miles, until you end up dragging the body-end through their own drippings.