Getting out of work early and stopping by the pub on the way home with S. Having a beer and chatting. Don’t think we’ve done that without kids in three years.
Dead slow day at work today. This is the painful business of working at a restaurant that has just opened… even if the place has been in business for forty years. But the good part about this is that when it was so empty customers must have thought it was closed, I took my southern Iced Tea and sat at one of the tables outside, and chatted with my colleague, pretending to be eating there. And the weather was nice, and the breeze was fresh and the jasmine still smelled sweet. It wasn’t that bad a place to hang out. Even if I should have been making money.
I wrote, yes I did. Forced it, but it worked. And the words came back, out of the confusion. I should have more faith that the words almost always come back, once I try, honestly try.
I had an idea for keeping track of the thoughts, experiences, creative impulses and maybe even sketches that occur while I am at work. I am thinking of calling them the “Sunset Chronicles,” or the “Restaurant Pages” or something like that. I used to write poems on my dupe checks. I used to paint mini landscapes when it was slow at work. I used to plan novels while watching my tables. I think that might be fun to continue it, probably online.
No comments:
Post a Comment