Chat
11-30-2014, 12:39 PM
Judy asks me to write an article for her—it's just a rewrite I guess. We are in a congested marketplace. I feel as though I have been here or trying to get through the various obstructions caused by people and things all night. Earlier, with M and Andy, we had been walking through and trying to give Fabio a walk. They were worried that he had not had enough walks today. I keep seeing some of the same faces as I walk through, especially kids.
Judy wants me to type up her article right there like it is no big deal but it is so crowded and more people keep coming in to this open air room that we are in, that serves sort of as a library/writing room. Several writers are currently jammed into the small space. I have to comb my wet hair first, and half of it seems to come out as I drag my comb through the tangled mass.
Then I am ready to start and I don't see Judy's manuscript that I am to work from. She says it is already in the computer. I just have to rewrite from there. At this point since she is acting like it is no big deal I ask her if she is going to pay me anything, and she gets offended that I had to think like that. She wants me to do it just as a favor, because she has done so much for me, and I should be willing to do this out of the blue task for her. I decide to go ahead and give it a try, only now her computer is missing and so is Judy, and these cranky other eccentric writers are breathing down my neck for my prime spot at a desk in the room. Another writer thrusts her fat baby boy into my arms and asks if I could watch him and then disappears. So I am wandering around toting this kid and looking for Judy so I can get her article done with. I see other kids: One little shopkeeper girl of about four or five is telling another little girl to buy and eat these watermelon seeds and they will protect her from mosquito bits. She says another lady just told her that, and i remember I was there when the woman bought the seeds and said what they were good for. The girl is an able little salesperson, and I enjoy observing the exchange between the two children.
"Little" Noah, or Sam, is a chunky little personage, and I heft him from one arm to the other to distribute the weight, and as I do my thumb gets caught under the edge of his diaper and comes out brown with stinky baby shit on it. His pants are full to the brim and I have no idea where his mother is. I do find a spot in another room by asking a woman whom I'd met earlier to shove over on the bed and let me park there to write. She does so somewhat begrudgingly. I just hand write the article and hold the baby or sort of lay him against my side as I work. He's a dear little thing even if he's an annoying lump at the same time. He hasn't cried this whole time, which I find quite helpful and endearing. I finish my work and go find Judy. I think I get to hand off the baby to his mum as she is in the same crowded room as Judy.
Judy wants me to type up her article right there like it is no big deal but it is so crowded and more people keep coming in to this open air room that we are in, that serves sort of as a library/writing room. Several writers are currently jammed into the small space. I have to comb my wet hair first, and half of it seems to come out as I drag my comb through the tangled mass.
Then I am ready to start and I don't see Judy's manuscript that I am to work from. She says it is already in the computer. I just have to rewrite from there. At this point since she is acting like it is no big deal I ask her if she is going to pay me anything, and she gets offended that I had to think like that. She wants me to do it just as a favor, because she has done so much for me, and I should be willing to do this out of the blue task for her. I decide to go ahead and give it a try, only now her computer is missing and so is Judy, and these cranky other eccentric writers are breathing down my neck for my prime spot at a desk in the room. Another writer thrusts her fat baby boy into my arms and asks if I could watch him and then disappears. So I am wandering around toting this kid and looking for Judy so I can get her article done with. I see other kids: One little shopkeeper girl of about four or five is telling another little girl to buy and eat these watermelon seeds and they will protect her from mosquito bits. She says another lady just told her that, and i remember I was there when the woman bought the seeds and said what they were good for. The girl is an able little salesperson, and I enjoy observing the exchange between the two children.
"Little" Noah, or Sam, is a chunky little personage, and I heft him from one arm to the other to distribute the weight, and as I do my thumb gets caught under the edge of his diaper and comes out brown with stinky baby shit on it. His pants are full to the brim and I have no idea where his mother is. I do find a spot in another room by asking a woman whom I'd met earlier to shove over on the bed and let me park there to write. She does so somewhat begrudgingly. I just hand write the article and hold the baby or sort of lay him against my side as I work. He's a dear little thing even if he's an annoying lump at the same time. He hasn't cried this whole time, which I find quite helpful and endearing. I finish my work and go find Judy. I think I get to hand off the baby to his mum as she is in the same crowded room as Judy.