Back to Boston
My husband woke me up at 8 am on Monday. It was a day I had off, and had planned on sleeping until...well, until I woke up. I grumbled at him for a moment, and then he told me
"I have a meeting in Boston today. I was going to come home right after. Do you want to come in with me and hang out in the city?"
Ooh. I love Boston. I went to college in Quincy, and spent most of my free time wandering aimlessly around the city, talking to strangers and writing about them. And eating, of course. I don't know why, but every time I go to Boston, I get this tingle all down my spine, and I smile a lot. Whatever season in Boston it is when I happen to be there, that's my favorite. For some reason, the best writing that I have ever done has been there. When I feel drained of all creativity, I start looking up train schedules, because I know I need to go.
As I always do, I got out several T stops before my desired location, walked until I was cold and hungry, and then hopped into a place that looked warm and sold coffee. I snuggled down with my cup and a croissant. I opened my notebook and looked around, expectantly.
Nothing happened. Maybe I didn't have enough coffee? Nope, that wasn't it.
I looked around at the other people. Two businessmen, and their conversation was technical and boring. Where was my spine tingle? Where was my inspiration?
Panic set in. Possibly the setting was all wrong. I left, with my coffee. I wandered around. I was accosted by a survey lady. I gave some opinions about pictures of soup. I made 5 bucks. I left. Kept wandering.
A distraction perhaps? I wandered to Downtown Crossing,tried to do a little shopping, realized that I have gigantic thighs. Stopped shopping. Wandered around until my husband called. We went to lunch at McCormick and Shmicks in Quincy Market, and the waitress had the kitchen make the sandwich that was on the menu a year and a half ago for me. That was pretty awesome. I left a hefty tip.
The day wasn't a total loss. I made 5 dollars and had a fantastic salmon club sandwich for lunch.
Sadly though...all day...no inspiration.
Unless you count this.
"I have a meeting in Boston today. I was going to come home right after. Do you want to come in with me and hang out in the city?"
Ooh. I love Boston. I went to college in Quincy, and spent most of my free time wandering aimlessly around the city, talking to strangers and writing about them. And eating, of course. I don't know why, but every time I go to Boston, I get this tingle all down my spine, and I smile a lot. Whatever season in Boston it is when I happen to be there, that's my favorite. For some reason, the best writing that I have ever done has been there. When I feel drained of all creativity, I start looking up train schedules, because I know I need to go.
As I always do, I got out several T stops before my desired location, walked until I was cold and hungry, and then hopped into a place that looked warm and sold coffee. I snuggled down with my cup and a croissant. I opened my notebook and looked around, expectantly.
Nothing happened. Maybe I didn't have enough coffee? Nope, that wasn't it.
I looked around at the other people. Two businessmen, and their conversation was technical and boring. Where was my spine tingle? Where was my inspiration?
Panic set in. Possibly the setting was all wrong. I left, with my coffee. I wandered around. I was accosted by a survey lady. I gave some opinions about pictures of soup. I made 5 bucks. I left. Kept wandering.
A distraction perhaps? I wandered to Downtown Crossing,tried to do a little shopping, realized that I have gigantic thighs. Stopped shopping. Wandered around until my husband called. We went to lunch at McCormick and Shmicks in Quincy Market, and the waitress had the kitchen make the sandwich that was on the menu a year and a half ago for me. That was pretty awesome. I left a hefty tip.
The day wasn't a total loss. I made 5 dollars and had a fantastic salmon club sandwich for lunch.
Sadly though...all day...no inspiration.
Unless you count this.
posted by Novice at 11:00 PM
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