Brave travellers all, we appreciate your efforts. Riding the bus ain’t always easy, but it does help you write.
I was having a rough time thinking of something to write for this week’s As I Sat On The Bus Invitational.
I felt dejected, rejected. All hope was gone it seemed. I would never be able to think of anything to write! It was hopeless! I wanted to throw myself under the bus…..(sorry for that one)
“Don’t do it,” said an inner voice.
“Huh?” I said.
“Don’t pay any mind to all that pessimism,” continued the voice, “It’s just writer’s block, and you’ll get past it soon enough. Just ride that bus. Ride that bus”
The voice of wisdom went on, “Just listen to the sound of the wheels, the hum of the engines, the vibration to your seat, the bumps, the jolts.”
“Before you know it you’re writing.”
As I Sat On The Bus
Marcus headed for the beach even though it was a cloudy day. Marcus had been in L.A. long enough to know that 1) the skies usually clear up by early afterneoon, and 2) that you could never really know or make any sense of the L.A. weather anyhow.
Or about anything, for that matter, considered the grizzled, cynical Los Angeles private detective Francisco Marcus, a personal friend of Philip Marlowe and a used-to-be L.A. legend in his own right.
Marcus was tailing someone: the guy in the seat behind him. Marcus had picked up the job two days before. The guy’s wife was a rich widow and the guy was her second husband. Son of a gun had married an attractive and very wealthy meal ticket six years ago in a big wedding that was covered in all the gossip columns. And now it looked like the guy was ordering take-out. That’s why the widow had hired him.
Marcus followed the guy to the pier. It looked like it was starting to clear up a bit. Marcus photographed the rendez-vous. (Photos of rendez-vous not presented here for reasons of confidentiality)
Just another job for Francisco Marcus.