Anymore, I don't think of it as writer's block. I now call it old age brain damage! Been several days since that last writing jag left me. This morning I sat in the Torque coffee shop in downtown Vancouver and had to write a letter to the editor just so I wouldn't feel so burned out. Then I ate a lunch of five sushi rolls and a banana while sitting by the Columbia River in my parked, beautiful as any horse to me, Yaris. Later a stroll along the river in the overcast chill of Vancouver perked me up. Now I've driven east and sit near my home and Costco (where I'll do a little shopping). I'm sitting in a Black Rock coffee shop which I enjoy very much. A chain...all in black and white it is. Feels alive to me here, like someplace in a modern city or in the future even. Yeah, in the future...that's what they've aimed at. The future. I'm hoping to live another 25 years and stay as alert as I feel now. Part of what has happened, I think, is I lost sight of my goal to write for Boomers, Silents and the last of the WWII generations. Then I start thinking GREATNESS again, and it all goes to hell in a hand basket. That picture above is a feel of what they're attempting. Couldn't find an interior for the place I now inhabit, typing this.
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