No Money No Beer

1,200 words today, so far. We're moving.

I had to take a break momentarily. I can't read or write when people are eating around me. A woman sat across from me and leisurely ate a bag of those purple and red potato chips. She sure did take her time, savoring each one, and even tipped the bag upside down and thrust her face into the bag to ensure the discovery of every precious gram of salt. I'm sure those chips were tasty. No doubt!

I tried not to stare.

When she was finished, she picked up her cell phone. I'm screwed, I thought. No more writing for Goo Goo. But no, manners! She collected her bags and belongings and headed outside.

My noise cancelling headphones have run out of battery power. But I was safe now.

*

After Charlie's mention, I started the day off with Keren Ann, but that was horribly inappropriate writing music. When you're in a relationship, the partner's tastes make discernable yet slight changes to your own. Or, more specific, they reinforce tendencies, and redirect others. Since Jess doesn't like female singers (except Chan Marshall and Ella Fitzgerald), it has since become nearly impossible for me to listen to Kate Bush or Joni Mitchell or, today, Keren Ann, even when she's not around. I like the music. It just doesn't feel right. I'm sure this works in reverse. Funny that: how you develop a collective aesthetic sense. It doesn't just happen in romantic relationships, but in social circles of all sorts. And this is too obvious to state. But it's interesting to note it when it happens and when you can specify how it manifests itself.

So, in honor of Lux Interior, I put on Gravest Hits. Raucous rock is usually good writing music. It accords well with the rhythm of the keys. It is spirited, youthful, unapologetic! Good fuel, that, with the coffee. Thanks, Lux. I owe you another thousand words.

Cramps just ended, as I wrote that. Moving on to The Black Keys The Big Come Up. Haven't listened to this one much. Sounds good so far.

Dozen or so pages left of Gringos. If anyone wants to borrow it, let me know.

*

Billy and I talked like we hadn't seen each other in months.

"You look good. Shit, you lost weight."

"No money, no beer."

He finds the slightest anti-beer sentiment hard to stomach. "You know a soldier needs a frosty one!" he said, his face turning red.