peace, somewhat

Ahhhhhh. I’m sitting here at Antidote Coffee (the newish place on Studemont that used to be a laundromat) drinking an Americano and using the free wifi. I came here not only because Onion Creek is tedious during the day on the weekend and I want to support a new, independent business, but also because there are no TVs here. I want to stay as far away from the super bowl as possible. I don’t care how great the ads are.

I’m on a couple of playwright listserves, and one of those groups is in the midst of what is called a “purge.” The concept is to write something every day for a month. How much and what you write is up to you. Some people are working on short pieces; others are editing first drafts or writing monologues. I’m going to use this time to start on my first long play. “Long” for me would be an hour. I have no idea what I’m going to write about – usually I have a hint of a concept or an image or a person. When I’m done wasting time writing this, I’m just going to face the blank page and begin. Begin at the beginning, right? Not necessarily. It’s day three of the purge and I haven’t written anything yet, so I’m behind already.

[the people two tables over are talking about something but I’m not really sure what because they are literally saying “like” every third word. yes, I counted. like is a horrible disease.]

Some things I’m wondering at this moment:
* is there still much of a market for singing telegrams?
* have they found a way to fix cockeyed eyes?
* was I hearing gunfire or fireworks last night?
* are the people sitting outside the coffee shop at the table with the guy in the funny hat who’s playing guitar (and maybe singing – I can’t see his face so I don’t know) really enjoying what he’s doing or are they just being nice?
* why are beards so popular right now?

Okay, enough. Off to face the blank page.

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