Sorry, people. No big amazing posts over the weekend. I spent more time thinking about writing than actually writing. It’s amazing the contortions I can put my mind through in order to avoid writing.
- “I can’t write now — my apartment is filthy!”
- “I can’t write when Smacky’s scratching himself bloody from fleas; I need to give him a bath.”
- “I can’t write here — it’s too quiet. I’ll go downtown and sit in a coffee shop somewhere.”
- “I can’t write here, it’s too noisy. I’ll go back home where it’s quiet.”
- And the worst of all: “I can’t write now. Maybe I’ll just poke around the internets and see if I’m inspired…”
(That last one is where hours upon hours disappear)
The good news is, this weekend I hung out and drank beer with Caleb and Gus, watched “Ocean’s Twelve” (stylish, witty, excellent entertainment that doesn’t aspire to be more than it is), watched “Donnie Darko” (the non-director’s cut) for the first time (amazing movie but I’m left feeling ‘what’s the point?’), cleaned my apartment, gave the cat a bath, posted my editorial on Sec. Rumsfeld (see previous post), ran 3 miles… more or less, and got most of my laundry done. Oh, had lunch at a swank restaurant in the Pearl District. Can’t remember what it was called, started with a “P”, but it was very good. Just normal day-to-day stuff.
Sitting at Starbucks I saw a girl who bore a striking resemblance to Allyson Hannigan. As I sat there trying to get up the nerve to talk to her (and struggling to find something to say other than “You look like Allyson Hannigan” or “Is it true what they say about redheads?”), she sat there with a notebook, kept checking her phone for messages, and kept looking around. Obviously waiting for someone. The someone showed up; a short guy, balding, goatee, glasses. The girl and he sat down and she started telling him about his part — apparently this girl was a filmmaker and was casting him in it. I listened in as best I could and tried to figure out if they were going to be very long. If not, I’d still try to talk to her.
A half-hour later, they were still deep in conversation. I headed home.