Scene: a bar in an artist colony, Lincoln Heights
“I’m taking a trip to New Orleans.” I told him as he handed me my regular brew.
“Where? What district?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Well what hotel are you going to be staying at?”
“Another one I’m not sure about. I’m thinking about visiting friends.. and maybe him. Where should I go?”
He retreated to another side of the bar and helped someone else only to return a few moments later with a pen and a piece of paper.
“Here. Also write down Elizabeth’s, Frady’s and Stella’s.”
“No problem. When are you going?”
“Not until next year.”
He walked away again. I looked at my phone to check the time. My friend should be here any minute. In my messenger bag there are multiple notebooks currently. Each one of them has its own series of stories. I got the two books at the same time- on that Strawberry Sunday. One was to be professional and the other was to be creative. Corporate and creative have met many times. With one of my moves, the red notebook became stashed in a bin. I had no clue where it had gone… until I’d found it this weekend.
“I want to show you something.” I told him as I pointed to a page in the red notebook. A section of it had been devoted to journal pieces written this summer.
“What is it?”
“Read the top line.”
He grabbed the book and began to thumb through it.
We laughed and talked some more. He gave me the book back.
“This book is about you.” I told him.
“No it’s not. It’s about you.”
He walked away as a text came in. I drank my beer and thought about things some more. About how honest the pages in that red notebook were. About it’s initial purpose being an art piece. About how it’s evolved.
On the front of this cover is an emblem stamp. Looking closer you can see that it is two people kissing. It is a tale that may never grace the inside of that notebook.
This is not a love story but it is a story I write about the life that I love.