I need
to submit a piece for a blog, for a class.
I figured I’d start early. Maybe
get something decent, maybe something good, and maybe post it by the
weekend. I figure that for a lot of
assignments, and for the most part, it never happens. It’s early in the morning and I've eaten
pancakes, pancakes with pecans and banana slices, and scrambled eggs on the
side, slightly under-cooked so not to be firm.
I’m out of coffee because I never want to buy coffee when I’m already
spending too much on two or more cups of coffee a day and a bag of beans always
seems too expensive up front. I have my
laptop packed in my messenger bag and I’m heading to a cafe.
Inside,
the place is dim and smells of coffee as if the wooden tables were damp and
absorbed all the scent. The curtains are
pulled till only a few slits of sunlight come in, and half of my coffee, a Kenyan
pour-over, is gone. I’m feeling good and
open my notebook. My pen is sitting
there, nothing is written, and I’m four texts and a call into a conversation
where a buddy just found out where I am.
Now he’s across from me talking about life and its entire consuming void
of nonsense and my notebook sits untouched.
After
he bum rushed out of the place realizing he missed half of a class, I figured
I’d go skate since I had nothing to write anyways. I’d go skate and flush out my mind and come
back to it all. This is all a bad idea
when you’re having surgery in three weeks because of skateboarding related
shoulder injuries. But what the heck,
when in Rome, when in Tucson, when you have jack to write, do as you do. After a few falls and slides along dusty
concrete, I smell like dirt and look dusty, but I’m feeling good and I hit
another cafe.
The sun
is warm through the leaves and the shade brings out the pink of small flowers
by my side. A crowned iron fence wrapped
with vines runs along the small trees that arch over my table and I’m halfway
through yet another coffee, an Ethiopian pour-over, and I’m feeling good. I’m feeling inspired and damn, I feel that
I’m really going to write something good and my class will read it and tell me
“Yeah, your style, yeah, your style, your style!” A small bird the size of a finch is pecking
along the crack of the tiled stone.
Another crosses and ducks under a table through the corner of my eye and
looks like a crusted leaf blown by the breeze.
I don’t know my bird types. My
notebook is empty and my stomach too feels empty from the coffee burning down
there with no food to absorb it. A
yellow leaf just fell on the table and it’s there, right in the center,
completely still.
Screw
it, coffee doesn't always do it.
Sometimes you need a beer, maybe two or three beers. I’m now three beers in and instead of looking
at my notebook I’m looking down at my buddy on the ground and I’m all the way
up a flag pole. I’m not any closer to
writing something decent, something good, but I feel good and I’m inspired by
feeling good and I’m thinking that I’ll write something decent, something good
when I get off this damn flag pole.
Its
midnight now and I still feel good and I’m at my notebook. I’m writing now and now I’m here where
everything is written that’s been written.
I had writers block three times, or was it four times up until now so I
figured it’s about that time to just write about writer’s block. I’m feeling pretty good and I’ll let this all
sit because I need to submit a piece, for a blog, for a class.
All I can say, (no offense to my previous, forgotten classmates), is that this is a solid piece of writing. The imagery and ease with which you write, Ryan, is very enjoyable. You made a semi-average day something worth reading. That is not an easy task to accomplish, and I look -forward to reading other pieces from you!
ReplyDelete-Kristin K.
I really liked this. Your style of writing, to me, is very unique and effective and I look forward to reading more stories and blog entries from you.
ReplyDeletePerhaps from my own interactions with different people on campus, I can really imagine the feelings that you capture through the words in your blog. That struggle to work on something and the urge to do something other than work is something everyone goes through. But the way you write your day is enjoyable, despite being a day a lot of people can relate to. Your re-cap on the day feels as though you are actually telling the story to someone, but in a few places here and there like when the bird flies in, it sounds like a well thought out line to add to the post. I really enjoyed reading this piece of yours and look forward to reading more of your stories and blog entries.
ReplyDeleteI really truly enjoyed this. It felt organic, kind of like you were just telling a story, but it was also crafty, stylized, and thoughtful. Keep at it!
ReplyDelete