Do you ever wonder what other people in the world are doing right now?
Everybody's doing something. Even if they're sleeping.
Maybe right now some people are at a rock concert. Maybe some other people are at the symphony. Maybe the people at the symphony would rather be at the rock concert. Or vice versa.
Maybe some people are sitting in a bar. Maybe some of those people are alone. Maybe others are with just one good friend. Someone with whom they can be themself. Maybe someone is singing. Maybe someone who isn't supposed to be singing, is singing. Maybe that person has coerced her way into the heart of some deejay named Nelson with a leather vest and he's given up his microphone to her so she can stand on the dance floor and belt out Del Shannon songs. Maybe she's turned those Del Shannon songs into her own songs. Changing the words to her words. Giving those words new meaning. Her meaning. And maybe the other customers in the bar are cheering her on like a bunch of teenagers from a vintage American Bandstand. And maybe she ends her repertoire with something like, "I'd like to thank you all very much. You're all invited to my bachelorette party." But she's not having a bachelorette party. She never has. And she never will.
Or maybe someone is at a bar with a couple of friends. And maybe that someone has decided, on a lark, to annoy the waitress by unscrewing the light bulb above the table. And maybe that waitress gets so annoyed, that she summons the owner of the bar. And maybe that someone then decides to annoy the owner of the bar by unscrewing the light bulb above the table. And maybe the owner of the bar bans that someone from ever coming to that bar again.
Or maybe it's a dreary rainy Saturday morning and a woman is huddled under a shabby blanket next to the bank building downtown howling. You've never met her and you've seen her before, but you know her heart is aching for love lost.
Maybe some guy is at his workbench in his garage completely engrossed in his invention. A flux capacitor.
Everyone is doing something. Even if they're in the darkest, dingiest corner of a basement, typing on a computer.
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© Marie Carnes 2002.
All content herein owned by Marie Carnes unless otherwise noted.