[ Da roommate, pizza, and plotting . . . don't get no better than this ]
September 27, 1998
7:19 a.m.
A palm tree is right outside my fourth floor window. The beeze blows gently into the little kitchen nook, and the sound of traffic whines thinly in the background. That's the sound I remember. It's the sound of LA. The whine of tires on asphalt that never ends, like grit that gets under your fingernails and you can never really quite get out. My roommate is a guy named Stefano Donati. After knowing him for a mere 18 hours or so, I would characterize him as a deep person. Not physically, of course--but in the way he sorts through his thoughts and ideas. We stayed up until about 11:30 pacific time last night plotting a story about time and drugs and relationships. He wants me to write the story now. And I want him to. I love a good brainstorm. Stefano wrote "Literacy" to get into the anthology--and I can't wait to read it.   So I'm sitting here the morning before it all starts. We didn't meet anyone else yesterday afternoon unless we passed wordlessly in the hotel hallways, so our meeting today will be the first time we really get to place names and faces. I'm anxious to get going.  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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 Writers of the Future issue II |
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