Licencia Por Enfermedad
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Sep. 26th, 2012 | 03:04 am
If you sit in your hotel room in Mexico and waste a rainy afternoon, does it still count as a writing date if you finish at 2AM? How much coffee is too much? If on the third cup you begin to vibrate, does it add emotional resonance to your work? After an intense emotional discussion--let's not call it a fight--with your paramour, followed by a brisk walk, how many Mexican taxi drivers have to whistle at you before you feel better, and just how racist will you feel basking in their gentle admiration while secretly admitting you don't find Mexican men attractive?
And why not? Is it their shortness, their stony Mayan profiles, their weird range of ages in which they apparently skip from not-old-enough-to-drink to responsible-Papi with no in-between? Is it your terrible, not-even-high-school quality Spanish, that strips all nuance from meaning, causing them to kindly switch to English for your benefit? The fact that 90% of them are trying to sell you something? That you aren't clever enough to come up with a kind but firm rebuttal to "Almost free, Señora, almost free!" or that you want to punch the next silversmith or shoemaker or t-shirt-seller who asks if you're on your honeymoon? Whatever happened to the days of the Mexican divorce?
How many rainy days or too-hot days or emotional-turmoil days do you get before writing is a hobby and not a vocation (or an avocation, let's be generous)? How many days does the muse let you call in sick before you're fired?
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What are you writing this week, or what are you fighting?
And why not? Is it their shortness, their stony Mayan profiles, their weird range of ages in which they apparently skip from not-old-enough-to-drink to responsible-Papi with no in-between? Is it your terrible, not-even-high-school quality Spanish, that strips all nuance from meaning, causing them to kindly switch to English for your benefit? The fact that 90% of them are trying to sell you something? That you aren't clever enough to come up with a kind but firm rebuttal to "Almost free, Señora, almost free!" or that you want to punch the next silversmith or shoemaker or t-shirt-seller who asks if you're on your honeymoon? Whatever happened to the days of the Mexican divorce?
How many rainy days or too-hot days or emotional-turmoil days do you get before writing is a hobby and not a vocation (or an avocation, let's be generous)? How many days does the muse let you call in sick before you're fired?
________________________________________
What are you writing this week, or what are you fighting?
(no subject)
from:
whipchick
date: Oct. 1st, 2012 12:57 pm (UTC)
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