09 October 2012

Writing, Nothing Special, Just Writing (Originally Published 20 May 2008)

Current mood:bummed

I got up after a boring night sleeping, the mattress of my bed slightly askew again, sliding on the hardboard insert that sits underneath it to give me extra support.  I pushed it back in place and grabbed a T-shirt, pulled it over my head, my open window let the cool night air in my room and I was chilled to the bone.  I padded to the bathroom and did my business, paying special attention to my teeth, my mouth felt atrocious since I fell asleep the evening before without brushing them.  I heard the laundry machines going and knew that my psycho-mate was home and would be all day.  I had hoped he would visit his mother like he usually does on his day off.  No dice.  I was hungry and I had nothing in my pantry but shoes so I threw on jeans and a hat, I need to get a haircut, and off I went down the street to Brittany's Café.  The sun was out and it was a beautiful day.  I saw through the front windows of the café that Nina's little boy was there, he's so cute.  I went in, grabbed the paper and sat in my usual table, behind the stairwell where the little supply closet is.  Nina seemed a bit out-of-sorts, I guess her young son had her distracted, and I ordered something from the special's menu.  My grilled cheese with ham and tomato came before my soup but I didn't care, watching the antics of her little boy and reading the headlines was distracting me as well as her.  I finished up and decided that the mood to write was upon me and I made my way back down Raleigh Avenue to the penthouse.  Up ahead, I saw my psycho-mate standing in the next block, chatting to a mutual friend and the dread of having to walk by took over.  I briefly thought of turning around and waiting a bit for him to go wherever he was off to but I forged ahead, the beautiful day giving me the support I needed to face the idiot.  I said a quick "hullo" to Scotty and walked to the other end of the block to the front door, up the steps and then to my room, opening my window farther and setting Lappy up on my bed to write. 
The entry came out of me nearly at once, my fingers typed and typed at a rapid pace.  I guess my self-imposed exile from writing because of the depressions I have been fighting has let up a bit.  The need to write came out so furiously, I was on page eight on my Word document before I knew it.  I transferred it to a floppy; put my shoes back on and off I went to the flower shop.
The clouds blew over my head as I wandered down the boardwalk. They were dark and ominous, threatening rain but thankfully not producing it.  There was a chill in the air, the breezes that blew the clouds above were changing the weather below.  I watched the boardwalk strollers as I walked and the joggers (who I secretly hate), noticing there were few out there braving the chill.  The sun peeked out now and again, an occasional brilliant surprise between the dark spells. I suddenly found myself walking down through the streets of the city, my thoughts of late have so clouded my mind that I didn't even realize that I had left the boardwalk.  It wasn't my intention, actually, I hadn't made any plans and didn't know why I decided to leave the boardwalk.  It's strange how the mind works.  I guess my thoughts were with the clouds, blowing me this way and that.  Since I was well past the flower shop by this point, I considered where I was, near the park that used to be across from the old high school, so I walked along there, looking at the buildings that line the diagonal street that borders that end of the park. The big "E" building, the former "Chelsea Fireproof Warehouse" always takes my attention with it's odd shape and the huge letter E on it's façade.  It crossed my mind to research this enigmatic building, I'm sure it has an interesting history.  As I walked past the war monuments that stand at the point of the triangle shaped park, I realized I was near my hair salon and, although I am struggling with money at the moment, I figured I'd splurge on a quick haircut.  It's a simple solution to change one's mood and I figured the expense would be worth it.  I also didn't want to have to attack my hair with my clippers again.  I popped into the little Spanish store to get a V-8 and made my way to the salon where I was rudely reminded that salons are shut, traditionally, on Sundays and Mondays.  Dejected, I had nothing else on my agenda so I backtracked along the park, on the other side of the street, and made my way to the flower shop.  Along that area, another building took my attention, the old Masonic Temple that became the police station, briefly, before it was abandoned.  I have often wondered what it looked like inside and anything Masonic reminds me of my father.  He's a Mason and I love watching the conspiracy-theorists prattle on about how evil they are. Hogwash!  Now Eastern Star, that's a witches cult!  Believe me, I know. 
I passed there, the little shops that line the street and thought of stopping in the Goodwill to check out the goods but I continued on to the Art of Flowers.  I walked in and had to find everyone in the back, going over catalogues and putting in an order for more flowers and whatnot.  It was slow, the Mother's Day hell was over and they were in recovery mode.  I quickly jumped on the computer, checked my emails and my MySpace and uploaded my entry.  Or is it "downloaded"?  I can never remember.  I chatted with Becky but she seemed distracted so I left the shop and walked back home for the second time today.  

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