from starbucks

I’m sitting in Starbucks today.  Somehow “doing work” (subtitle: reading Gawker, checking Facebook, and occasionally submitting a short story to a lit mag) is easier to do when there are strangers around.

It’s like I’m a working exhibitionist.

I’m trying to think of a new topic for an essay that I’d like to write.  I have a few ideas (“Living With a Liar” or another essay to go in the collection called “Conversations With My Jewish Mother”) but I’m coming up short.  I want to get rid of the old essays or short stories before writing new ones.

I’m also trying to look for a job, but that’s becoming tiring.  I have had about six people in the last two weeks saying they know someone here, or can send my resume to someone they know there, but I haven’t heard anything except “so-and-so really likes your writing samples, so maybe…”  Maybe doesn’t pay the bills, however.

Shit. I just got distracted by the Blackwell’s organic truck.  It’s sitting right outside this window and the flashing LED banner it’s got going on, combined with the bright green truck paint is about to give me a seizure.

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One Response

  1. TEACH

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