Catch Up

My last post was nearly three months ago.  I’ve left Word documents open for weeks on end, but all they do is accumulate phone numbers for people trying to get ahold of people I used to know.

When meeting new people, one of the oft-asked questions is, “What are you into?”  My stock answer always includes writing.  I actually do love to write.  So why is it that I stopped?

I met this girl.  I meet a lot of girls.  The one in this story is an actress.  I suspect I won’t see her again, mostly because she lives in NYC and is touring with a show for the foreseeable future.  I met her in the bar, because that is the entirety of my social life now, and we went to lunch.  We talked for a couple of hours.  We talked about the etymology of words.  We made up a couple.  We talked about acting  and being afraid of bugs and skydiving.  She said she had never met anyone who described themselves as a writer before and we talked about my half-book.   Her enthusiasm for everything was dazzling.  It was a good time.

All too soon, reality intruded.  She had errands to run.  Denver’s beautiful weather had swung back to intermittent rain.  We hugged goodbye in the hotel lobby, and I hoofed it back to the parking garage.  Rather than wait for the weather to clear, I fired up my bike and shot out into the soggy day.  I listened to the roar of the wind and watched the road with a thousand-yard-stare that cut through the water droplets splattering on my visor.  I thought about writing, not out of any overt need to woo a female, but out of a desire to start again.  I don’t even remember at this point whether I came up with any interesting thoughts.  It doesn’t matter because I sure as hell didn’t transcribe them.

Maybe it’s too meta, but I paused at the end of the last paragraph to read my last post.  The last one ended with me pondering a return to the old way – drinking until words spilled from my fingertips.  I’m sober right now.  I seldom have time or a safe harbor in which I can afford to get all “wastey-faced.”

There is light on the horizon though, and I am no longer a fan of pronouncing all things doomy and gloomy.  Yeah, I know “doomy” isn’t a word.  Neither is “wastey-faced.”  Did you still understand my meaning?  Communication accomplished, then.  Moving on.  I finally made it to an SCA event after a year-long hiatus.  My fighting authorization was still in good standing, but my entry to the event and the tournament involved showing a PDF of my new Society membership.  I did my best to catch up with all the people I used to know.  I did a poor job of it, as usual, but let that go for now.  There had been discussion at one of the fighter practices about a diminished level of “magic” in the air at events, so I took care to use every proper title I knew and bow to everyone in a coronet or crown.  Something still felt different, but that may have just been in my head.

I suppose I should wrap this up before it gets too unruly.  I do have more on my mind, which is a good sign.  I’m getting set to hit up more SCA events this summer, starting with Crossroads.  The actress brought to light that I’ve actually accomplished two of my three New Year’s resolutions, which beats most people I know.  Even better, I just squeezed out 600 words without being drunk!

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