Retail Therapy

Oh dear god it feels good! Last night, after almost falling asleep on myself at the keyboard, I abandoned my normal post at the hospital and made my way downtown to Powell's. My advisor had given me a list of books to read (at my prompting) and I really wanted to get started on them.

On the way downtown, I called my brother and had a positive conversation about an issue that was bugging me and was able to get it off my chest and then have a nice conversation after the fact. I felt bolstered by it. Contented that I had removed an issue from my table, at least until next time. The evening was nice and the Edward P. Jones book on tape was especially scintillating. I found a parking space right next to Powell's, helped a woman with her hand truck full of books to sell and quickly made my way inside to the Blue Room.

The Blue Room, even the room's designation makes me relax. I had the book list in hand and began to peruse the aisles, looking for books. I found about half of the books on the list, the other half will just have to be searched for online, and then I made my way to the sale racks and tables looking for other things that may spark my attention.

I found a short story collection I loved on sale for $3.00 and had to buy another copy. I figure I will send it to my friend, Brandon, who lives near where the stories are set. It was too good a deal. I found some authors I had never heard of but the covers sounded interesting and I couldn't resist as they were priced under $5.00. I walked out of Powell's with a paper grocery sack of books and about $70 poorer than I was when I entered but I felt elated, I gave some loose change to the homeless man on the street and walked down the sidewalk to my car humming a tune to myself simply to hear the tune play in my head.

On the way home, I came across an idea for a story. Actually, I had already had the idea and struggled through two stillborn versions before I decided that I was just going to come out with it. I was going to state what the story was about in the first line. So, I drove myself to a local pie house/coffee shop and asked for a quiet table where I could use my computer in relative quiet.

I was sat at the far end of a sun-room looking corridor of the restaurant. Directly opposing me, on the far wall was a group of teenagers who were discussing their elementary and junior high school pop culture influences. There was a lot of talk about the Spice Girls from the young ladies. The guys mentioned movies like Rocketman (not a bad Sunday morning goof fest, if you ask me).

I was poised, fingers over the keyboard, ready to state my case and I typed the first sentence. It was a piece of dialogue that directly stated what I wanted to write about. The rest began to flow. In an hour I had written four pages and more than anything else I have written lately, it began to feel like a story. I don't know if it is or not but I felt that way and it was nice. I called it a night after filling the fourth page and reading most of a short story from Emperor of the Air.

I packed my things, went home, talked with my wife and her friend for a bit and went to bed where I finished the rest of the story and fell off to sleep. Sleep rose quickly in me, I don't remember Tracy coming to bed, but I slept heavy and long, and, I think, I can't quite remember now because it is afternoon, but I think I slept and dreamt last night partially because I had new writers near me and books to explore once the sun rose again.

God I love retail therapy like this.