When: 06.21.2008
Where: Still sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Seattle
They had come here to celebrate. And to document every second of the festivities so that their time could be remembered with something as close to clarity as the years would allow.
The four of them, friends since childhood, had managed to escape the clutches of higher education with only a few scars to serve as unwelcome reminders of unhappy times. Being separated by states and time for the last four years had been trying, but the pact they’d made the day they threw their caps in the air echoed in every second until – in different places this time around – they repeated the ritual with black caps. And so, they had come here to make good on that promise they’d made to enjoy life as soon as they were able.
Gathered in the lobby of their hotel, they paused to appreciate the milestone they had just checked off their lists. And the gravity of what was bound to happen after this last jaunt before a whole new reality set in came calling. Looking around, they located just what they’d been searching for. They handed the man a camera, and he nodded in understanding.
Sitting there – the four of them shoulder-to-shoulder for the hundredth, and now maybe last time – they smiled and blinked at the flash.
They all waited just a second longer than necessary before lifting arms from around shoulders.
Showing posts with label North to Alaska '08. Show all posts
Showing posts with label North to Alaska '08. Show all posts
7.22.2008
First, Look Up
Note: The only rule I had for myself while writing these little oddities was this:
Do not edit. Write it as it comes, spelling and grammar be damned.
That said, I have taken the liberty of changing/adding/deleting one or two words in the transcription from moleskine to blog. I can't help myself, but at least it's written someplace in unadulterated originality.
All of these have evolved from an observation, whether I wrote the story of before or after. I figured that would stave off excessive self-indulgence, so please tell me if this tactic has failed. The whole point of doing this is to get over a fear of both publishing and criticism. Here, I look to you. :)
When: 06.21.2008
Where: Sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Seattle
The city certainly knows how to make an impression.
Fresh off the plane from a place melting in an unwelcome, but not altogether unusual heatwave, the first thing I notice are the clouds. Though they are a token of identity more than a mere weather phenomenon here, they are not nearly as depressing as I expected them to be. They move slowly across the sky, like pillowy leaves riding a wide blue stream. Faster than the clouds back home, their journey across the skyline is like the steady soothing noise of a fan in the background; just enough to prevent suffocating in idleness. The clouds here play a soft counterpoint to the glaring sun I’m accustomed to. And I decide theirs is a melody I could quickly begin to love.
Do not edit. Write it as it comes, spelling and grammar be damned.
That said, I have taken the liberty of changing/adding/deleting one or two words in the transcription from moleskine to blog. I can't help myself, but at least it's written someplace in unadulterated originality.
All of these have evolved from an observation, whether I wrote the story of before or after. I figured that would stave off excessive self-indulgence, so please tell me if this tactic has failed. The whole point of doing this is to get over a fear of both publishing and criticism. Here, I look to you. :)
When: 06.21.2008
Where: Sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Seattle
The city certainly knows how to make an impression.
Fresh off the plane from a place melting in an unwelcome, but not altogether unusual heatwave, the first thing I notice are the clouds. Though they are a token of identity more than a mere weather phenomenon here, they are not nearly as depressing as I expected them to be. They move slowly across the sky, like pillowy leaves riding a wide blue stream. Faster than the clouds back home, their journey across the skyline is like the steady soothing noise of a fan in the background; just enough to prevent suffocating in idleness. The clouds here play a soft counterpoint to the glaring sun I’m accustomed to. And I decide theirs is a melody I could quickly begin to love.
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