"The blue-backed notebooks, two pencils and the pencil sharpener (a pocket knife was too wasteful), The marble-topped tables, the smell of early morning, sweeping out and mopping, and luck were all you needed...
Then you would hear someone say, "Hi, Hem. What are you trying to do? Write in a cafe?"
Your luck had run out and you shut the notebook. This was the worst thing that could happen. IF you could keep your temper it would be better but I was not good at keeping mine then and said, "You rotten son of a bitch what are you doing in here off your filthy beat?"
That was an excerpt from one of my favorite books. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. He is interrupted by Ezra Pound, who is apparently a bit of an obnoxious ass. I love this book and it makes me want to be a better writer and go to Paris in the spring. It also really makes me miss my father. The book in thus wonderful and bitter sweet.
Then you would hear someone say, "Hi, Hem. What are you trying to do? Write in a cafe?"
Your luck had run out and you shut the notebook. This was the worst thing that could happen. IF you could keep your temper it would be better but I was not good at keeping mine then and said, "You rotten son of a bitch what are you doing in here off your filthy beat?"
That was an excerpt from one of my favorite books. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway. He is interrupted by Ezra Pound, who is apparently a bit of an obnoxious ass. I love this book and it makes me want to be a better writer and go to Paris in the spring. It also really makes me miss my father. The book in thus wonderful and bitter sweet.
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