Friday, August 14, 2009

Weekend Writing Retreat, Part I

Listening to a girl blow on piano. Sitting by a river in the oldest private swim club in America? There is a vending machine with 85-cent-beers. Jimmy Buffet happened, most definitely four rounds of "Margaritaville." I drank a bug, WHOOPS. Precious Boating Children. Pool, and pools. That train is SO CLOSE. TO MY BODY. I'm gonna make a shirt. The musical will probably have cooking, and most definitely love. Duh. I'm writing it. With Alyssa. And Farmer, permitting. And then there's the band, the guy whose voice I heard on a CD and in real life! The roads are mystical and surrounded by green. This is new to me, and fulfilling the lack of green in my relatively desert-focal childhood. I was very bad at soccer!

"Play TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS."

"What about WHEN I COME AROUND???"

"PLAY THE HITS."

Someone left baby powder on the side table.

"My mind is telling me yes! But my wallet! My wallet is telling me no!" - FM

That reminds me of a birthday present I was set to give and still have time to make! I will hand deliver it to Scotland, covered in brown paper, tied with a ribbon or a string of some sort.

I met a man on the side of the road. We shared Cheez-its and stories of world travel. He lives in Bordeaux, which is a wine place. I gave him my ugly business card; it was before I got my new flashy better business card.

There is a British girl who is a girlfriend, her name is Jess.

"What's the baby powder about?"

"I dunno. But I wrote about it. On my blog."

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