Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Down at the sunset grill

Lunch- looking: Sunset grill. Hollywood High. Passing...

Old Hollywood I recognize- residentially structurally challenged, on the sidewalk, mumbling, wandering, meandering, not shopping, no place to go, nothing to do. It's just like the eighties.

I pull into the corner strip mall. Shit. Wrong one. Plenty of parking. I drive to the next block. That's it.

Falafel is what I'm after. I pull into the corner strip mall. There's a delivery truck double-parked. Plenty of room, I pull around no problem.

There's no parking. One spot is open but the jerk to one side has hogged into it.
I think about vandalizing.
I pull out onto sunset. The signs say I can park. There are tents on the sidewalk and a filthy looking guy with a bun is lurking. I take the tools out of the back and lock them inside the cab; stuff the meter.

Russian neighborhood. Maybe Ukrainian. I can't tell the difference, but calling one the other is an insult. Two pale guys with buzz cuts in shorts and flip-flops order in Cyrillic in front of me. Former Soviet Armenia owners, I guess.

The workers all look Mexican or Salvadorean.
I can't tell the difference but calling one the other is an insult, I guess. Maybe it isn't.

I sit to one corner where I can watch the door in case of armed bandits or Chechens. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Is my car going to get broken into?

Comments

Why do I love these glimpses into your day? I wonder how the neighborhood would describe you? Smiles.
 
I don't know what they think, only what they do or say. I prefer to be invisible. My seat at our kitchen table used to have me looking across at a mirror. I switched places. I like it much better.
 
sas has a good point... I wonder
what the locals thought... this fish is
is out of his pond...
I never had any fear of going anywhere
and sometimes became invisible too.
Though, until the last few years and
times have changed, there’s no respect
for old people, just an easy mark.
 
Tuesday- daytime is safe for whatever reason, the demons/monsters are out after dark. Wee hours you pack. :) ( I don't pack)
 

Blog entry information

Author
Kevin
Views
42
Comments
4
Last update

More entries in Creative Writing 101

Top