Six minutes

It doesn’t take much lack of imagination for me to be sitting outside at Starbucks somewhere in Lincoln Park. At this Starbucks, they’re serving wine and people are drinking. They’re playing “Rock and Roll High School” on the sound system, but is anyone listening? At least I am in the wireless outdoors.

Trying to find words to express my thoughts. Or maybe thoughts to express in words. But all I am really doing is gazing at the other consumers and pedestrians. And pigeons, too. We all sit under umbrellas. I guess ultimately, we’re all under the same umbrella (I guess I really did just say that).

It is 5:41 pm and I just realized that I have not spoken to anyone since 8:30 last night, (except for cashiers and receptionists… and the woman I just asked to watch my computer while I momentarily stepped away). And it doesn’t appear as if I will do any speaking at all tonight. I haven’t planned that far in advance.

I think of the options for tonight and how I might elude The Familiar… and I’m coming up empty and directionless. I know I have six minutes left before I must move my car. But who knows what’s supposed to happen after that?

Again, I’m in this state of waiting, instead of activating. But one thing I can say about myself right now, I’m not bad at typing.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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