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A Table, a Chair, and a Horse

February 22, 2005

With all the house business, I found myself obliged to take the last week off from writing.  I returned to my toiling Saturday.  I only wrote for two hours (I’m usually at it for three), and had a difficult time focusing, but still managed to make some solid progress.

Last night was trickier.  For some reason that made sense at the time, I went out to write.  I punched out four paragraphs; nowhere as many as I’d hoped.  But, as they say, anything is better than nothing.

Then, today, the morning came on gloomy and humid.  Thunderstorms were predicted, which is something, because for the last month and more we’ve been subjected to days of nothing but gloomy, drizzly, humid weather, interspersed by rare days of cerulean blue skies.

Alas, I think the meteorologists put in "thunderstorms" when I think they meant "fog".  Never has Austin so resembled Portland as it has for the opening days of 2005.

I chocked it all up to the fact that it is Tuesday.  Tuesdays are always the worst days of the week.  Unlike Mondays, you can’t blame the crappiness on the fact that it is, well, Monday.  And unlike Wednesday, it isn’t the halfway point to the weekend.  I won’t even bother with Thursday through Sunday, all of which are preferable to Tuesday.

When the time for lunch came around, I slung my backpack over my shoulders and made my way to the nearby Seattle’s Best.  If you don’t know, Seattle’s Best is the Starbucks-owned coffee shop that ignorant anti-corporate types visit to stick it to Starbucks.  Me?  I go there for the tasty chai lattes and the atmosphere (spacious, generally less crowded than the nearby Starbucks).  Oh, and the free wi-fi.  None of that T-Mobile hotspot nonsense.

After getting my tea-and-steamed-milk goodness, I make my way outside.  There are two loud, obviously homosexual (not that there’s anything wrong with that) men sitting at a table near the door, gesticulating wildly.  I’ve found I don’t write well in the presence of boisterous conversation (or other people, actually), so I make my way around the corner.  Here there are three tables, and a random bronze statue of a horse.  I settle down at the nearest table, pull out my trusty laptop, and get about my business.

But, there’s a problem.  Since I’ve made the transition from notebook to computer, I’ve had moderate success, but only on my desktop.  My attempts to write on the laptop have been less than stellar.  And, to add to the stress of things, this is the first day I’ve tried to write during lunch since abandoning the pen and paper.

Things get off to a bad start.  I can’t seem to find the words, or even really figure out what I want to say.  Frustration begins to take hold.

Then, suddenly and absolutely without warning, the clouds part.  The sky clears.  Sunlight beams down.  It is glorious.

With the sun comes inspiration.  My fingers start hitting the keys.  Yes, this is good.  Go with this.  I find the tone I want to take, I find how I want to get from point A to point B (okay, point Q to point R, I guess).  The words, the sentences, the flow, they just fall into place.

I’d guess that I only really, actually wrote for about half an hour, but it was the most satisfying half an hour of writing that I’ve had in the past six months.

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