Nathan and Me

Brought my laptop with case out to Starbucks this morning on the motorbike. On the way, on Yeh Aya, I saw an accident. Girl was sitting in the street holding her shoulder, looked to be in a fair amount of pain. Of course, dozens of bikers had stopped in order to move her bike out of the streeet. But I thought to myself, wow, what if I got in an accident with this laptop on my back. No more laptop, right? Perhaps taking the car would be wiser, though in that case, there would be no parking spot. Hmm. It's a quandary. I guess the solutiion is to avoid getting in a wreck.

Back in old Portland town, there was a period of time when I went to Starbucks with my laptop nearly every day. I suppose this was between 2004 and 2006. I would write poetry and short stories. The stories were mostly about a character named Nathan. Nathan was a drunk whose life had fallen apart and all he had left, really, was the bottle, one-night stands and his faithful dog, Frank. Only one of these stories was ever published. A long story called First Things First. Of course, I didn't try very hard to get any of them published. For one thing, my first wife, who had always been a trustworthy reader, said that they they rotten and depressing and that Nate's alcohol abuse was tedious. I guess they served more as a personal catharsis. an honest discussion with myself. By the time I had stopped writing those stories, I had stopped drinking altogether. Nathan was dead. But I still have a soft spot for him, as one does with all drunk, dead people. As one does for all lost souls. Poor Nate. Rest in Peace.