sharks ate my post

I woke this morning with an image of a city set adrift on an ocean. There must be a story there, or a poem at least, I thought. I was Hemingway’s old man hauling the great fish home even as sharks tore into its underbelly. When we reached the shore, I found the predators had picked the idea clean. But it was too late to start a new post, and anyway, I like sad stories.

I wonder why I never see artists sketch in cafes. I suppose they inflict too much damage with their inks and paints, whereas writers only spill coffee. Once I saw a guy upset his cappuccino over his laptop and the machine died on the spot. Everyone in the cafe stared at him. Did he remember to back up his files? 

I wouldn’t mind sitting next to an artist. Or even a writer. I don’t see many writers at my local. It makes the lonely act of writing in a foreign land lonelier still.

Thirty years ago today, a writer I knew died. I should have written about her. But I’ve been saying that a while now.

Art by Mina Boromond

About listentothebabe

writing is the teeth that gnaw on my bones.

10 comments

  1. I once used to work at a club and the woman who was running sound spilled her beer into the sound board.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Andy

      😀 I was expecting another sentence then, as if to complete the story. But then I had the idea that I wouldn’t hear that next line because the sound system was broken – just you mouthing silent words.

      Like

      • Perhaps. That’s very poetic thinking. But, the truth is, I feel like comments are kind of like buying beer for your own party. If you’re going to go through the trouble and take the time to do it, you are only required to buy the cheapest kind.

        Like

  2. Andy

    That was my favourite image – a city set adrift.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You should come and sit with my artist group. You might find that a lot of fun and creatively stimulating. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Andy

    True; and better than no beer at all.

    Like

  5. O. M. mother. fucking. G. Exclamation point.

    Liked by 1 person

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