As I traveled to Bailey’s I was struck by a moment that I didn’t want to be alone with. I don’t have much choice in the matter, though so I continued forward with the moment, doing the work.
Of course, writing is work you do alone. Drinking can be done alone and enough drinking can be isolating. If you’re writing AND drinking the door is open to a double whammy on the nights that have moments that one may not want to be alone with. So I am not unfamiliar with the condition of solitude, there are just times when I wish it was a little farther away.
Then again, an acute sense of lonely is the worst reasons to find someone to be with. Healthy (or wise) people recognize that and behave accordingly. So it is tonight: I am better off sitting down, writing, observing, absorbing the scene than I am trying to make friends.
I think I’d like to do it with a better beer though. Mill City’s Zech Bavarian Hefe’s first sip gave me liquid banana. The third sip gave me banana sweetened by Bazooka Joe and something else, something unpleasant. It isn’t spicy and I don’t notice a clove element. It’s like a sweet pillow on the tongue and I’m not enjoying the way the feathers stick around.
I have a different beer, I write, I muck on my tablet. I admire the middle aged ladies out for a night, dressed to the nines chatting up men half their age, the couple making friends with another couple because of table proximity, the lone wolf, standing at a table near the entrance, the woman in the Front 242 tshirt reading her book. It may be a tough day to be alone but it isn’t a bad day to be at the pub.