Per usual I have a mumbled, jumbled bunch of stories in my head. I think that's the problem! I have a ton of short stories I wish to write. Almost daily new ones pop through, from out of nowhere and from my dreams. That's my first love, problem is they take quite a bit of time. I cannot help but see stories no matter where I go. I work the graveyard shift in case some of you do not know that. I can't sleep at night so during warm nights I'm out and about, an old habit, like the good old days me and my old dog Punkster took midnight rides every Sunday morning. During the winter I don't venture out, but something about warm days and nights I cannot explain. Something spiritual about the early morning hours, that calls out to me. I listen to my favorite radio program, Coast to Coast, it stirs my imagination with a never ending variety of topics. The kind you won't hear in the day time, no politics or Rush Limbaugh, thank God! I get a bag of cashews and a soda and lose myself, literally!
If I was a regular day shift worker, this would not happen, of that I'm sure of, however that's not the case and won't be for the rest of my life. I work at a job that must be done as others sleep. I teasingly say "someone has to make the doughnuts". As hard as it is to believe an awful lot goes on after the 9 to 5 people go home. The world seems to evolve around those hours, the rest of us are forced to work for various reasons!
Twice this week I have come face to face with stories people probably wish to just "sweep under the rug" so to speak! I cannot! I was at what may seem to be one of my favorite spots and in retrospect, I suppose it is! I like fountain sodas, peanuts and at 3 AM where you gonna go? Yep yer fav Convenience Store, as bad as I hate to admit it, I have one. It's a newer one close to the interstate, also close to one of them all night big box stores. I can get fuel for my Chevrolet Venture Van, fuel for me and stories. Being a member of The Night Shift Club, I go where most people don't. I write of what I see, feel and sense.
I have been reading a book called Help. Thursday night after work I get me peanuts, drink and the morning newspaper fresh off the press. The weather has been so nice I wish to relax listening to my program, read the paper and some of the book. I know yer thinking this old man is strange! I say "THANKS!" I do not wish to be like everybody else. The peace I feel in the night, this time of the year through summer is unexplainable. I become one with the night, the world moves at my speed. After a hard day's night (sorry an old Beatles tune) I can relax and reap the benefit of pure and total mind cleansing relaxation, my own sort of meditation I reckon!
DAMN!!! I know I ramble, but this is how I think! Seems I can be thinking too many words, sentences, stories, simultaneously. I had high hopes in time my focus would come clear! It only gets worse! You may laugh at me, but it's as though the thoughts of many other individuals are trying to come through at the same time! That's why I make fun of the ones I lovingly call Missfits in my head. You know channel surfing as in TV, maybe I'm a soul surfer. I use to convince myself that all people are alike, but as I age, I know that certainly is not true!
I'm checking the air in my tires at 3 AM, a man in a pick up truck parks and walks over to me talking a mile a minute. Don't take long to realize he is asking for a handout. An older man, bout my age in an older pick up. Since I'm hard of hearing and don't have my hearing aids in, I don't catch everything. Anyway to make a long story short. One never knows whether the person is telling the truth or not. I used to not give money to ones like this. Then one day I had a conversation with myself. I feel bad for quite a spell after witnessing people on street corners holding a sign for help. If I cannot spare a few dollars that may or may not help somebody in need, then what kind of a person am I? I must live with myself and my conscience!!! GLEN