We met at a small cafe in Nashville on the road to Virginia. James was staring at me questioningly. Obviously, I didn't look that great. I had been on the road for the past two weeks, and it had been awhile since I'd had a shower. The air going out in the van didn't help this matter. I sat down in a corner booth next to the window. The sunlight was pouring through the tinted glass swallowing up everything it reached, causing the red vinyl cushions to shimmer as if they were brand new. The New York Times was spread all over the table and I was struggling to get it to fold correctly. He came over and fixed it for me and asked if he could join me.
"Try an omelette. You'll never have another like it."
"I take it that's a good thing?"
The waitress came over to take our order. She looked like she was in her mid 50's but really she was probably around 43. It's amazing what a life time of smoking can do for you. She wore nude-colored pantyhose to add more shape to her booming thighs, I guessed, and high heels for their so-called "slimming effect." Really though, she was trying too hard. Let's be realistic lady, you're a waitress for God's sake. Think practically; you are on your feet for a solid eight hours a day at least. If you want to be able to walk in ten years, invest in a nice pair of flats.
"Hey James. Whatchu boys havn'?"
"Hey. I want my usual."
"Alright sweetie." She was smacking her gum as she spoke and asked me the same question.
"Hi there, uh . . ." I searched for her name badge and found it tucked slightly behind the dingy red cardigan she wore. " . . . Candy." I guess I'll have one of those famous omelettes of yours. Why don't you surprise me?"
"They ain't famous," she said coldly. "And my name ain't Candy. It's Lucy. I'll be back with some coffee in a minute." She stomped her heels as she walked away from the table. I noticed her shoes were a little too big even for her swollen feet.
"Lucy really is nice. She must be havn' an off day."
"Why is she wearin' someone else's name badge?"
"It's just her thing, you know? She's gotta whole drawer full of them. Anybody that ever worked here got one made. She just keeps 'em. She bought 'em so I guess she wants to get her money out of 'em."
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i suck. i can't write anything. and when i do i get things like this. one may look at this and say, "hmm, this has an endless list of possibilities as to where this story could end up." i say, "no it doesn't." then i continue to struggle to figure out something else, anything else, for the characters to do to make the whole thing progress.
ug.
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5 comments:
just write for writing's sake.
and listen to sea wolf and tell me if it is indeed too emo for words. i can't tell
i've heard them. i believe so, but some of their stuff isn't that bad.
If you bring it with you we can work on it.
sounds good
sometimes writing is just an exercise, a practice.
you don't have to finish everything you write.
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