Not Going Out
This evening you find me sitting in a hotel hundreds of miles from home, actively using the internet to escape my temporary confinement. I could have wandered along the road to the public house next door, but solitude is often my preferred friend.
If I had propped up the bar I would have been the guy sat quietly with a netbook in the corner of the bar. The bar staff would have presumed I was busy working late on something – in truth I would have been writing a long and monotonous blog post describing them to an invisible audience.
I both love and hate eating alone in bars or restaurants. I've mentioned this before. On the up-side, you get to order quickly, eat quickly, and get the hell out of dodge without making conversation with anybody. On the downside, you occasionally spy a couple out for a date night, and wish you were in their shoes. They will probably be heading home together to watch a movie, and who knows what else. You're going to be returning to your empty room to either read a book or watch the awful hotel television (or if you're me, download a movie from the internet to watch on your tablet).
So yeah... I'm avoiding the bar situation entirely tonight. I'm writing this garbage into the blog, listening to music on my archaic iPod, and may wander out into the Tumblrverse next in search of idiocy. I shouldn't have to look far. There are a couple of nerdy techy blog posts I could write on the “slightly more professional blog” (what, you didn't realise I had another blog where I almost talk sense?). The slightly more professional blog is really just a notebook of stuff I have discovered that might help me in the future – if I don't write notes up for an audience, they become utterly unintelligible.
I am in the hotel for the next three nights – doing battle with the rail network once again on Thursday evening. I have no idea what I'm going to do for the next few nights. There is one thing nagging away at the back of my mind – I want to read “To Kill a Mockingbird”, so I can then read the new Harper Lee book an decide for myself if the journalists are right, or if they just picked the book as this week's target for their spite and vitriol. I have a history of reading classics or scandalous books – to make my own mind up. The likes of Lolita, and Tropic of Cancer.
I guess I could spend the week writing insufferable garbage into the blog. It wouldn't be the first time.