-I wake up almost groggy from a long night of nothing. It’s kind of like the way I’ve been living. There are moments when I can sit quietly with my thoughts almost frozen. A state of zen being, funny though, nothing comes. No epiphany, no enlightment, and least of all direction. My morning ebbs and flows til it is gone. I sit and watch movies, a favorite hobby, past time, unyielding occupation. For all the hours I’ve spent waqtching and dissecting films, I have yet to write a feature length script. The longest I’ve written was sixteen pages, the most was fourty four, but the most lacked a certain coherencey.
I open the door in search of some sweet dessert and make my way a couple of blocks in my little neighborhood. The light bouncing off of a white car calls my attention, and what’s more it’s vanity plates, my alma matter. It just so happens I know the guy, a reminder of a past life. He doesn’t remember my name, and why should he, my faith and his were never the same. Yet he stands there and entertains the semblance of caring. In my faith, you never stop being a friend.
A bit pensive, I leave, drive somewhere else, they don’t have my sweet dessert anyway. Past lives in this life have a certain way of undermining your confidence. I find a place and ask some questions but the results aren’t good, so I sit outside in the patio at a time when everyone is sitting inside. The waitress comes out and introduces herself, as well as bringing out my order. I sit and frustrate myself trying to write but it all seems so sophmoric. Three cups of coffee imbibed and with the knowledge that my waitress is a motivational speaker with a degree in theater, I start to write a poem. It’s the wind hitting my eyes that gets me.
- 73
- 0