postandeason

Preamble to the Constipation:

My hope has been to contribute short, often full of expletives, opinion pieces to the Postandeason Community. I've been a little backed up lately. However, I have recently relocated to a city where I know no one, and I am hoping this lack of distraction will allow for more writing to occur. Here is a sample piece. I wrote this shortly before leaving New Orleans. It began as a rant on the bad drivers who think they're good drivers so they honk at everyone they deem bad drivers in hopes of teaching those bad drivers a lesson as well as cutting time off their commute - which averages to about 90 seconds. A minute and a half. That's it. However, the column took a turn somewhere along the way. I hope you can follow the trail, and I hope you're game for the journeys to come. 

Honking and Waiting

by Pan Frederick

I can't write unless I've something to say. Lately, I got nothing. Even the excessively unnecessary horn-honkers don't rile me. Okay, maybe they still annoy the fuck out of me. But in a nice way. In a, makes me want to caress them sweetly, sort of way. I want to tell them, "It's okay. You're doing great. You'll arrive at your destination shortly."

I'm beginning to feel like I finally have my shit together. At least more than the honkers do. Because if I can make it across town without bolts of rage and barreling obscenities rushing around my veins and pouring out my mouth at those stupid idiots who don't know how to drive - they better get out my way - MOVE you Mother Fucker - HooOOOOOOONNNNNNNNK ......then I'm doing okay. 

Actually, the true test of mental stability is getting through a Sunday Brunch without wanting to punch every hungover-er who orders a coffee and a water, a Diet Coke and a water, a fucking Bloody Mary - not too spicy - and a water, with a lemon - please. Whenever you get a chance. 

That's my favorite. Whenever I get a chance. That's actually code for, "You better fucking bring it in two God-damn seconds. Haven't you heard me slurping on my straw for an hour over here. Lazy sack a shit."

Although, I'm sure they hate when I leave the bill and say, "Whenever you're ready." Because that's code from me for, "Get yo fat ass up outta my booth. You are not the only one who needs to eat today okay!"  

Shit. I've managed to over analyze iced water and credit card receipts. Inanimate objects are making me neurotic. Or maybe just bitter. Actually, I'm probably just bored.