Half a bottle of bourbon, the sounds of radiohead and aggressive rain on the windows. Is there something else for Reverse Town?
It was our weekend as writers, as imaginary legends. Dan let his beard grow out for the occasion. I prepared a stir fry and we talked about plans to make a movie come spring, but also about the capitalist beast (church of the free market, lethal injection has been privatized in Arizona) bearing down on all that's innocent and good in this country, about the meaning of our creative endeavors, of whiskey and of women.
The autumn turned damn cold that weekend but for all the rain and bluster, the mornings were pure and white and we walked to a coffee shop called the wandering goat and took strolls along the river sipping coffee black and smoking. I complained about the pervasiveness of men who hype without substance to back it up- hype artists, perpetual marketers- how in fact, hype and substance are diametrical opposites in the world of creation, as I see it. He agreed.
Though sometimes, a little bit of self encouragement is good to get the ball moving again. In the end, we'd agreed on alot and were ready to stop talking and get to work.
