Yeah….see, remember that whole MONDAY STARTS THE BATTLE shit? Well, forget that for a couple of days. It’s all good, though. This stew doesn’t get finished in a day. Anyway, I went out again into VB and a street performer asked me for my pen. Now, if you know me, that’s the one thing you do not ask for, because like lots of writers I am very particular about my choice of writing instruments.
But he asked. I gave it to him.
Then he said, “I’m gonna need this for awhile.”
OK. I had to part with this brand-new Pentel even though I had every intention of going down to the Sidewalk Café and telling some stories, trying to get out some more drafts, and I am more possessive of my pens than about anything else. So I gave it up. I could not tell him no. That would have been entirely wrong. He was calling his lawyer and absolutely needed a pen the way other people need computer time.
So: I buy a cheapass pen (not that the Pentel’s expensive, because it isn’t; it just has that old Flair feel), report to my usual, and set down to work. It came to something today; who knows what? Not me. And I found some time to tell rooftop stories; here, you have to go to the roof to smoke, but what a view.
So, because I forget this is the statutory July 4th holiday here and of course Canada Day back home, nothing gets done in either country today. Another Edmund Blackader moment, just as with the pen. I had just been thinking, “At least I have the pen to write with,” when the street performer spoke. As I say, it was impossible to say no.
I couldn’t. But I’m pretty sure Santa Monica has places where they sell pens. It”d also be new territory. Why not? I love you ALL, you know.