Watching TV last night, a scene at a dinner party, I asked Harriet if she could remember the last time she went to a dinner party. She couldn't. Neither could I. More than old age at work here.
In the 60s and 70s, I hosted or went to a dinner party every weekend, more or less. Very active social life. Even after my divorce and bachelorhood in Portland, 80s, I had an active social life in two regular bars, Nobby's and Seafood Mama's, friends with the owners, tabs at each, the whole shot. I cooked for holidays, when the owners hosted dinners for those with nowhere else to go. Homes away from home, where I spent more time than in my apartment, except for mornings when I wrote.
All this ended when I stopped drinking. Rediscovered the recluse I was in high school. End of my social life, really. I never really fit in with Harriet's friends after we got together. Didn't see my old barroom friends with any regularity. My closest two friends died in the 90s. My best friend became our dog.
Not complaining. Observing. I have fond memories of a social life, actually, but I don't need or want one now and don't have a sense of missing it after I left it. That was then, and then there was later and now there is now. I like the variety of my personal history. Good for material, too.
Of course, it's all material. Heard that first from William Goldman. It's true. It's perhaps the best benefit of the writing life.
In the 60s and 70s, I hosted or went to a dinner party every weekend, more or less. Very active social life. Even after my divorce and bachelorhood in Portland, 80s, I had an active social life in two regular bars, Nobby's and Seafood Mama's, friends with the owners, tabs at each, the whole shot. I cooked for holidays, when the owners hosted dinners for those with nowhere else to go. Homes away from home, where I spent more time than in my apartment, except for mornings when I wrote.
All this ended when I stopped drinking. Rediscovered the recluse I was in high school. End of my social life, really. I never really fit in with Harriet's friends after we got together. Didn't see my old barroom friends with any regularity. My closest two friends died in the 90s. My best friend became our dog.
Not complaining. Observing. I have fond memories of a social life, actually, but I don't need or want one now and don't have a sense of missing it after I left it. That was then, and then there was later and now there is now. I like the variety of my personal history. Good for material, too.
Of course, it's all material. Heard that first from William Goldman. It's true. It's perhaps the best benefit of the writing life.
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