11:15 a.m. restaurant

Sometimes I walk by a restaurant and want to go in even though I’m not hungry.

Today I had the same feeling toward a laundromat. It was the wash-fold place The Bone used to go to. I had an urge to go in and pick up a heavy parcel of clean, folded laundry.  I was relatively far from home and didn’t have any clothes to bring them. My hangover feels like it’s frozen under a huge block of translucent ice, like that dinosaur in Travel in the Mouth of the Wolf.


3 thoughts on “11:15 a.m. restaurant

  1. Waffle

    Maybe so, but the below by RB could have been written by quilty:
    “November 3”
    I’m sitting in a cafe,
    drinking a Coke.

    A fly is sleeping
    on a paper napkin.

    I have to wake him up,
    so I can wipe my glasses.

    There’s a pretty girl I want to look at.

  2. quilty Post author

    Y’all are way too kind. I first learned the word “contrived” in high school when I told a friend’s dad (who was also an English teacher) that I was really enjoying Trout Mask Replica in America. I mean Still Life With Trout Mask. Just kidding: In Watermelon Sugar. He said, “I’ve always found Brautigan to be contrived.” I asked what that meant, and he said, y’know, “artificial, labored.” I remember feeling a little “busted,” that I had enjoyed something lame, but also curious, because, like, isn’t all art by definition artificial and labored? I mean, it doesn’t just happen by itself! We’ve gotta contrive it, or else it stays internal and unformed! But I know what he meant. Even if art’s literally contrived, it shouldn’t smell like it.


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