working weekend

FaithOccasionally, the silence becomes deafening.  It becomes an invading, pulsating entity, a presence completely separate from the surrounding atmosphere, and it disrupts me.

When that happens, I go to one of two spots:  if it is during the day, I find my way to a local Mexican place and have a couple sangriàs, some chips, and guacamole, eavesdrop on conversations from other tables, and scribble happily away in my notebook.   If it is at night, I pop over to a bar on the lake, find a corner table, and submerge into the chaos.

Last night was one of those nights when the silence descended and chased me from my home.  And it was perfect.  I enjoyed a drink and tossed off several pages of text.

Productivity feels good.  And now I can sleep … at 2am.  G’night, lovelies!

working weekenf

My beloved spiral notebook, my oversized bag (chosen for its ability to accommodate said spiral notebook), a gin and tonic, and my hot pink pen.

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