Daily Kup (My vision quest, but with food and sleep )Watched Juno this evening and realized that I wanted to write like Diablo Cody. Or at least talk like one of her characters. She wrote the screenplay in seven weeks in the Starbucks of a Minnesota Target.
I've got a Target with a Starbucks. I could sit with my freebie laptop. As long as there was an outlet nearby. I wonder where you go to get Diablo Cody lessons.
Not the stripping part.
The quirky, trendy, brash, erudite writing part.
In Every Autumn, You Can Hear the Spring
When I swung the earth-killing, petroleum-gulping, suburb-o-van into the local grocery store parking lot this afternoon, my attention was drawn to an elderly man standing at the edge of the pedestrian crosswalk near the store entrance. He had neatly pressed beige trousers, a long-sleeved white shirt precisely buttoned, and a tie. I usually view stragglers in the crosswalk as candidates for vehicular reminders about herd-thinning as I aim the V6 for the nearest parking space, but today I inched that baby across the painted diagonals slowly as the old gentleman simply stood. His chin was high and he stared resolutely across the parking lot, not glancing right or left. He could have been standing there for minutes or hours.
I parked and went about my business with my shopping cart baby seat filled with a box of coupons and every newspaper grocery ad forming a front shield of grocery price G-2. Taking the right turn to the produce department, I lifted slammed spinach and lobbed lettuce into the cart. Up ahead, my favorite section of the store: the free coffee station.
Handling the cart like Danica Patric, self-proclaimed "race car driver and godaddy girl", I hit the staightaway by the bananas, cornered by the squash while keeping two wheels on the pavement at all times, and then careened around the olive bar. Speed bump ahead. My parking lot waiting friend was carrying two cups of free coffee from the coffee station to the adjacent little table and benches. He gingerly handed one streaming cup to an elderly woman. She beamed at him, distractedly smoothing her dress with one hand.
Arms triangulated to sip the warming drink, they sat across from each other like timeworn mirrors. What they were talking about so intently on their formal date, I'll never know but I rolled away slowly and hummed a little tune of spring.
Empty Cups
Happy 70th birthday, John Lennon.
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3 comments:
Strange. This is oddly similar to something that happened to me on Saturday. I had a bit of time before the Grand Parents arrived for dinner, so I ran my Library books back. AS I approached the Library, I noticed a well dressed man with a cane standing in the middle of the intersection. He was moving back and forth to stop traffic from clearing the crossroads, and when I was next to him, he waved me over, and said:
"Gimme Somthin."
Having nothing in the cab of the truck other than old drive-through napkins, I said, "Sorry" and moved on. He was still out there stopping traffic as I left the library book return.
I've read better business plans.
It sounds as though you were the victim of Mr. Peanut. It's the monocle that gets them every time.
I need to work on my original story. The last few lines don't say what I want. There's something that's both humorous and that speaks to the eternal nature of humanity that he got all gussied up to invite a date to the free coffee at the grocery store.
And, by the way, the Porkus business plan was "Gimme Somthin" written in Mandarin. It's lovely as a pictogram. Half a dozen Hollywood starlets have that tattooed on their butts thinking it says, "Harmony."
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