I drank a latte at ten p.m. so that I would be sure to make it through the film, and then I left for the theater at about 11: 30.

Earlier tonight, I thought about buying tickets online, but then I realized that if the theater was going to be sold out, or even close to it, I would rather just go and see the movie tomorrow. Maybe I've been spoiled growing up in small towns, but I can't stand crowded movie theaters.

When I arrived at Kerasotes, the parking lot was as full as I've ever seen it. I didn't think much of it until I parked my truck and headed for the entrance, when I saw that there was no one waiting in line to get in.

As soon as I walked in the door, I heard the cashier tell the people in front of me that The Dark Knight was sold out. I quickly turned around and headed for my truck, though I wish now that I would have stuck around to scope the place out, see what all was going down.

Looks like I'm going to have to go to a matinee tomorrow.

* * *

Since I haven't been around this place much: This summer has been one of the most productive I've ever had. I've written a longish story, two essays (for a specific purpose; more on that when the information becomes more relevant), five short-shorts, and tomorrow, I should wrap up a second longish story that's going to clock in, I think, at around 8000 words. I've also written about 3000 words already on the next story I'm going to write.

And I've started working out a little, and eating better.

Maybe that whole shaving-my-head thing ended up paying off, gave me just the kind of fresh start I needed.

* * *

After I missed out on the movie tonight, I decided to stop off at a bar to have a drink or two, hoping that the alcohol would counteract the espresso I had earlier. When I got home, I wrote the following little micro fiction based on a conversation I overheard at the bar:


He asks her how long it is now until she takes that trip.

Two weeks, she says. And one day.

Her feet bounce in their flip-flops. They curl and flex.

She is sitting on a brick step outside the bar. A beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

For the past few days, she has been asking herself, Why Tunisia? She doesn't know thing one about the place.

Looks like you're going to have a good time, he says. A great time.

She wonders: What language do they speak in Tunisia?

What color is the natives' skin?

Where do they fly off to when they want to just get away from things, when they want to wake up and find themselves in an entirely different world?

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