Aug 6
Last night
So, last night, I went to this bar with my brother, sister-in-law, some of their friends. It was a really lame bar, anyplace that serves even their liquor in plastic cups just isn’t anywhere good. Beer in plastic, sure, that’s okay. Liquor in plastic, that’s completely classless. Liquor belongs in glass, no discussion.
Anyways, I still usually love a bar, I love writing about bars. Something interesting always happens. I kept trying to get in my writer space, where I’m taking in everything, feeding everything, remembering everything. I usually sit, and watch, and write things in my head. Even if I just feel lonely, lost, I’ll write that, wanting my drink to make me feel something other than empty, and how it almost never does. Even when I feel dead inside, I usually get some kind of peace out of using my craft to paint that picture with words, personal narrative, flash fiction, whatever. Last night, I just couldn’t get to that place of detached recording, where words just fit in my head. I was too anxious, nervous, too disconnected. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be somewhere else, with someone else. The weight of that, I don’t have the words to describe, I can’t.
Comments are off for this post