My vision is forever and always seeing as a writer. We go out to dinner and I peruse the surrounding tables; not taking in the cariety of people, but listening to the dialogue of characters. All are characters and all acts are potential for elaborated scenes.
Th
e last time i was in California, I visited a favorite spot in Laguna and there sat two older women. As they sat and talked, I snapped a picture of the two and wrote a story.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two seniored ladies sit across from me. Their polite conversation reveals a newness to their relationship. I am guessing the two are participants on some senior type tour offered by the airline industry; or they share placement within the same 'retired community' . I am thinking the first. They discuss husbands, youth, innocent times in the water, friends of yester-year, and days gone by. Flash back 30 years ago when the two women were close to my present age. Lively families, crying children, marital spats and optimistic futures.
One lady sits, legs crossed, white sensible, low heeled shoes and stark white cotton capris. Baubled rings, thick dark Jackie-O glasses and styled hair that is no longer soft to the touch, only coarse and stiff from the morning's aqua net regime. Her hair has aged well and is naturally blond/gray. Her older companion, sitting by, trying to defy her age. Rich copper colored hair absent of gray and mortician colored cheeks, vibrant pink.
Their discussion flows from youthful times to doctor's appointments, surgeries, numbness in the legs and arms and who can beat whom with prescription drug costs. I reach into my backpack, take out the small digital and if attemtping to take a picture of the Laguna Movie Theater, directly behind them, i focus in on the two, hand motions in the air and eyes intently looking at one another, i click my camera, close the shutter and put it back in it's dark home.
Their discussion flows from youthful times to doctor's appointments, surgeries, numbness in the legs and arms and who can beat whom with prescription drug costs. I reach into my backpack, take out the small digital and if attemtping to take a picture of the Laguna Movie Theater, directly behind them, i focus in on the two, hand motions in the air and eyes intently looking at one another, i click my camera, close the shutter and put it back in it's dark home.
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This next one is from a time we stayed in a very shady motel on our long drive home from South Dakota. All were tired and we simply pulled over to the closest place.
~~Upon crossing the parking lot, you would expect to hear the distant hum of the Twin Peaks theme song; the slow and new age melody that eventually lures you into a building speckled with questionable and intriguing characters.
As i crossed over the black top, i assumed that Mr. David Lynch would soon be shouting, "Cut, cut, cut - will someone get that suburban mom off the set, please." but there was no such voice.
The older lady with hunched shoulders walked slowly with cigarette in hand. Her head turned slightly towards me as she circled back. She glided slowly about her small piece of claimed territory. Methodically back and forth, almost with a sense of anticipation of something better to come her way during this last phase of life.
I walked under the wooded archway of the Thunderbird Lodge and pulled open the heavy glass door; the clerk welcomed me. Everything fits in the scene but him. The dull yellow light casts an almost gray haze over the tiny glass enclosed room. Three seedy layered women look up from the 'free internet' computer to catch a glimpse of the I Love Lucy show playing in the corner. Long stringy hair mimics their gaunt appearance. I feel the theme song getting louder and expect FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper to make his appearance.
The clerk points me in the direction of my room - "It's right there, number 43" and yep, there it was, right in front of me, less than 20 steps away from the front desk. The hotel key he hands me is authentic - it hangs from a green plastic oval. I pass by the three women, and notice the small mircrowave oven with coffee pot - this will be for the guests in the morning- i conclude.
I pass by the small sauna and jacuzzi room, which is also adjacent to the front desk area. From the jacuzzi, you might be able to make out the dialogue of lucy and ethel, but the two occupance tonight are not intested. They sit close together, bodies touching. I fix my gaze and our eyes meet. I watch them through the almost steamed windows. They take their gaze off me and back onto eachother. To them, i was transparent and added nothing to the scene. I take 2 more steps out of my complete 20 and assess the locked up liquor store on my left;each bottle righteously displayed; almost like rental movies. 5 more steps and i unlock my door and inspect the room. It is as decent as one would expect; the window air conditioner is on to circulate the air. The bathroom is acceptable and the two beds will be fine for the night.
