I want to write. I sit down and tap away for what seems like hours (but is actually frustrating minutes protracted by my dull, depleted brain) and end up with nothing that makes any sense—even to me.
I want to write about Scooter Libby skating out of prison with an administration "Get Out of Jail Free" card, and the GOP spin machine pointing the finger at Bill Clinton (!?) when the nation cries, "Foul!"
I want to write about country songs, right-wing radio nazis and chain emails that encourage us to "never forget" the horror of 9/11, to keep it a festering boil soothed only by hatred and vengeance. Oh, I feel horror all right…horror that there are people—legions, apparently—who believe that crap; who hang on every lying word of the administration propaganda engine as if it issued forth from the mouth of the Almighty Itself.
I want to write about being "Proud" to be an American… I was born here. My citizenship is a gift…for which I am grateful, for which I feel blessed. But proud? Is pride not named as one of the seven deadly sins? And for excellent reason, if the behavior of "proud" Americans is adequate demonstration of what pride causes people to do and be.
I want to write about the characters that people my new world: "Meals-on-Wheels" –the café cat, and Mamie, our 94-year-old regular who drives herself to the restaurant a couple of times a week for her mushroom burger and "a few fries."
And the high-maintenance patrons whose next request, I swear, will be for us to chew their food for them…maybe digest it, too; and Dick, who comes in at least once and sometimes twice or three times a day…brings his wife from time to time, who knows I will make her soup for breakfast or a half-order of French toast (with no cinnamon!) because she reminds me so much of my own mother whom I can’t spoil because she is far away.
I want to write about more than just the excrement that regularly makes forceful contact with the oscillator.
There is so much more to my world. At least, I think there is. Yes, I’m sure there is. It is there. Somewhere…
Ahhh Lisa....you tease us with snippets of the stories from your world, your mind and your heart. I want you to write too....because you do with such passion.
ReplyDelete:)
Sounds like there is quite a lot in your world and just not enough time to write about it.
ReplyDeleteLisa, no matter the subject (matter) you manage to draw me in to the reading and listening and ... everything. You have chosen work that allows little time for self enjoyment and so perhaps your writing could be done at the counter with coffee and laptop where you can leave it for your customers to read 'as it happens'. Write on Lisa -- you do have much to offer.
ReplyDeleteGreat entry. I love your word picture of Mamie and her shroom burger. I can just picture what Russ over at Inner and Outer Demons would do with some of your high maintanence customers. If you haven't run across him, he does really wicked cartoons.
ReplyDeleteJackie
sometimes, when it seems sooo cruddy, it makes more sense to just smile.
ReplyDeleteIt makes some people nervous and others worry.....
Seriously, I am sorry that life it is the way of your beautiful writing.
We want you to write, too!
ReplyDeleteDitto what Robin said...now I'm looking forward to eventually reading what you have to say about each of these characters...
ReplyDeleteThe thumbnail sketches are a teaser--I, too, would relish them.
ReplyDelete*debbi*