The Beginning

2/23/01
I was sick this morning. It is just enough cold to make me think I am going to have a bad day.

The sun comes out and melts the snow and the Advil removes the aches and pains.

I go on line and post an old story which reveals much about me--at least the first part of it.

I am now at borders. Not to browse for books but to get a triple espresso and look at the people. How many of these people are real writers?

There a girl with blue coat and no chin and wet, curly hair. Over there a Rastafarian haired guy. I don't want to give myself away by the way I look. My hair however is between the way my barber likes it to look ant the way I want it to look; hence it is raised up in front much too high. There a pony tail shakes far too much for my taste. A young girl bounces across my path. She is smiling at the Rastafarian guy. A 20 something with an M on the back of his shaven head sits with his back to me. A guy who has a military hair cut---light on the side... slightly darker on top has a book "Stonger Abs and Back." Can you imagine writing a book on that topic? Maybe there is hope for me yet. I seem to be studying everyone's hair. There is a young mother with a man cut. She has a cute face and glasses. A young boy passes and I study the way his barber has made a perfect half circle around his ears... A young girl with no make up and shiny shiny hair attracts my attention. Reminds me of someone from my past whose name I cannot at this moment recall. The cappuccino is starting to hype me up. I feel it as it seems to make me hear more than usual. I over hear two nursing students talking about the sounds of blood flowing through the body. The baby wants attention and begins to cry. The mother at first feeds some scraps from the cake she was eating. But now leaves to take care of her cranky baby. I notice the chairs for the first time. The sun strikes them and they strike me. I think of a Paris cafe. I am nearly done with my coffee. I am going to find "Chocolat" and begin reading it.