I'm trying something different with my journal. I can tell how many people read, so if nobody reads these, I'll go back to just keeping them to myself.
I went adventuring in Fondren tonight, using my motorized scooter. I'm still hoping to eventually get to where I don't need assistance getting around, but that's proving slower than I had hoped.
A new physical therapist is supposed to see me not next week but the next and work with me to figure out safe ways for me to use the leg press and the leg extension machine at Meridian Apartments. If a leg press doesn't resolve my leg strength issues, I don't know what will. Doing laps around my apartment in the wheelchair does a pretty good job of elevating my heart rate for aerobic fitness until I can use a stepper or something similar.
My goal tonight was to find ramped access to everything I might be interested in entering in Fondren. I found ramps to everything but Saltine. I'm sure they have one; I just haven't found it yet.
I've run thousands of bar tabs in my life, just not any in quite a while. Getting a bourbon and branch at Fondren Public felt very comfortable and very familiar. My doctor says I can have only one. That's ok by me. I exceeded my maximum allowance for spending the night obliterated long ago. One slow one is just fine by me.
Rowan Taylor tried to teach me about really good whiskeys and bourbon. My mother drank Cutty Sark, which I can't stand. My dad drank Stolichnaya out of the freezer, sometimes with grapefruit juice if he was on a diet.
Eudora Welty drank either Maker's Mark or Old Crow. That's fine by me. If I'm just gonna have one, I'd like to have one with some local history to it.
Fondren Public has a strong Cherokee Inn in the 80s kind of vibe to it. From what I understand, it gets pretty lively after ten o'clock. I, however, do not get very lively after ten o'clock, so I'll probably miss that. There are three or four bars in Fondren, but this one's a pretty good fit.
I'm probably gonna have to haunt Hal and Mal's bar some. I've spent many nights there with great music, sometimes commiserating with the local journalists and politicians.
A lot of my life was spent in bars, then after my divorce, I cut it off cold. Part of it was that I knew my wife really liked bars as well, and I didn't want to make it awkward for her. I can't spend my life avoiding exes, though. There are too many of them.
It took me a couple of weeks to adjust to living here, but I feel very at home now. I'm still progressing, but it's a struggle to figure out what the pace is.
I spent about six hours writing today, producing a little over 2,100 words. Ray Bradbury says to aim for a thousand, so I figure I'm in the good. Most of today was a conversation between my two main characters, discussing their positions on the main action. At this point, they don't agree on the best way forward, which will become more of an issue as we go along.
Even though that's not the point of the novel, I kind of want people to "ship" the two of them. I don't think they'll end up together, but it'd be nice if people wanted them to if they were invested enough in these imaginary people I created to hope they find happiness.
The thing about fiction is that all the characters are basically just the writer wearing different hats. That's probably why most people think they're crazy and why so many of them spend their lives in a bottle. I don't want to spend my life in a bottle. I've known some really talented people who did, and I don't want to live that way. Hopefully, I can create without lubrication.
I've spent a lot of time in bars with a lot of you. I guess the point of today's journal entry is that those days are back, I guess, maybe in a measured sort of way. I think that was inevitable.
