rANdoM. ThOugHTS

The older I get the more I look like my mother.

Giving up caffeine is easier than I thought.  

If you don't like a book, you don't have to finish it.

The older I get the more I sound like my mother.

FLASH FICTION

YOU PICKED UP A HITCHHIKER

     You picked up a hitchhiker last night. Deep down in your gut you knew you shouldn’t have but you felt sorry for the kid. He looked so desperate standing there on the side of the road, in the dark, with his thumb out. You drove by and stopped a few feet away, rolled back. He leaned in and said can I get a ride? Anywhere, wherever you’re going.  I don’t really care. You said sure, hop in.

     You picked up a hitchhiker last night and this morning you are sorry for it. Deep down in your gut you knew you shouldn't have but you did it anyway. Now, here you are, in this room, alone, all tied up, naked, waiting for the maid to find you. At least you’re alive. That’s a consolation. A big one. You could be dead. He could’ve cut you up in little pieces and stuffed you in the tiny refrigerator of the motel room. But all he wanted was your money. He asked you to take him with you and you agreed. Whatever possessed you to do that? You said I’m going to spend the night at the Motel 6 in the next town and he said that’s fine, I’ll come with you.

     You picked up a hitchhiker for the first time in your life. All those years in the 60s when it was cool to do it, you didn’t do it. You were careful. And now, in your late sixties, you’ve become kind of a daredevil.  Next year you’ll be seventy. What will you do? Jump out of an airplane? That’s not a bad idea actually you think as you lie tied naked to the bed in this dinky motel room. The sun is beginning to sneak in through the half open drapes. What time do they clean the rooms in this place?

     You picked up a hitchhiker at least forty years younger and you thought nothing would happen. What a fool. But then – you didn’t really care. You still don’t. It could be worse. You could be dead. You could be.

BACK IN CHICAGO

I guess most of you are not interested in writing tips, given the small amount of views of my last entry.  I thought you would find it useful, at least, those of you who are writers out there.

It's been a week since I returned from San Miguel de Allende (actually it will be a week tonight). Needless to say, I haven't gone out much, only what was absolutely necessary, such as, a doctor's visit, a manicure, the OLLI Study Group, and the Symphony on Friday.  I am waiting for the day when I can go out and saunter down Bissell Street, Armitage Avenue; the day I can stroll for an hour or so and exercise my legs and my lungs.  Sitting indoors for days on end saps my energy. Not to mention, my creativity.  

Case in point: what can I write about in this blog of what I've done, what I've seen, heard, tasted, smelled?  In San Miguel there were always new vistas, experiences, colors and sounds.  In Chicago I am reduced to snow outside my windows, frigid air on my face if I venture out, and the same old thing, except for the Symphony and the Study Group.

On Friday we heard Ravel and Stravinsky with two very young conductors and a singer.  They performed rarely played pieces with explanations from Pierre Boulez on video because he was not able to fly to Chicago.  He selected the program.  It was dynamic, entertaining, and sometimes exhilarating.  Every couple of weeks or so I need my dose of classical music.  The CSO is the perfect provider.  Close to home, easy to get to, and fantastic.  

The Study Group discussion focused on Ann Patchett's book State of Wonder.  I had read it a couple of years ago and didn't like it then.  Still don't.  The conversation on the novel centered on who did what, why, when, and so forth.  After a while I expressed my opinion that the premise made no sense; the book was long and boring, and my disappointment since I really enjoyed her previous novel Bel Canto.  I seem to be the voice of disagreement in that group.  But, once I offer my views and opinions, many of the participants agree with me.  I wonder if they are afraid to dislike a book.  Next week it's Howard's End.  Not liking it much either so far.  Will let you know when I'm done.