I sat, somewhat conspicuously, in the window of the coffee shop. My laptop open in front of me, I was there to hopefully get another brilliant piece of written prose down. The Television in the cafe was on and some 1950s TV show was playing, maybe Lassie? Around me were hard working, silent, 20-something’s typing away at their computers. I figured that by getting outside and planting myself among The Creative I’d be able to shake the writer’s block that has been gripping me in this rather inconvenient time period (I’ve got deadlines! I need to get my butt in motion for Grad School if I’m going to make this happen!).
I’m sitting there, chewing on my cuticles, feeling rather sorry for myself for having not written the Great American Novel yet, and watching Leave it to Beaver, or whatever is playing in black and white on the Tele, when I look over at the bar serving coffee and catch the eyes of a dark haired barista staring at me. I smile. He smiles back. I pull my fingers slowly out of my mouth and wipe them on my pants. He goes back to his job. I feel stupid and pretend to get back to the brilliant piece of hot steaming crap I’m cooking up about a monkey robbing a bank in the future (think of the computers they’ll have! All set up to detect humans… but what about Monkeys!?).
I stare at my computer screen for a while, willing myself to stay the hell away from Facebook. The lady to my right is lost in her movie editing, to my left a woman is writing what looks to be a dissertation in Russian, and I’m back to staring at The Dick Van Dyke Show having abandoned my somewhat half-assed idea of the Evil Future Monkey. I catch the eye of a big shaggy dog who just walked in with two attractive looking people all bundled up against the wintery day outside. The dog winks at me. I wink back. He starts to lick his butt. Touché. I stick my fingers back in my mouth, feeling vindicated; I can write anything.
Muses can come in all forms, who am I to judge?
November 14, 2013 at 6:37 pm by Natalie Allen