Elbow Room

The journey from the West side to Hollywood was a gradual evolution from professional hustle to extravagant wealth to creative chaos to seedy and strange. It took more than an hour. The Curmudgeonly Lion had picked me up from work and we were heading to a casual mixer of actors and writers at a bar called the Elbow Room, which promised pizza and drinks in a laid back setting.

I was half-hearted about the whole endeavor, at best. The longer we drove, the heavier and more unenthusiastic I became: why was I even doing this? It was a Thursday night for Pete’s sake. What did I think I was going to gain? It was only scheduled to go until eight- we wouldn’t even arrive until quarter after seven. *le siiiiiiiiiiigh*

But it was free. And clearly I needed to find ways to break up my routine, so this was an obvious first step. If it turned out to be a flop then at least I tried.

It turned out to be just what I needed.

I didn’t know any of the actors, but I recognized a number of writers from my group, and it was pleasant to get to talk informally outside the writers group setting, even if the conversation was largely punctuated by the ear-splitting roars of a hockey crowd all fixated on the final match of the Stanley Cup championship being broadcast on the bar’s televisions.

I couldn’t say for sure what it was that tipped my mood over from ennui and angst to pleasant equilibrium. My one drink, maybe. Or just being off my narrow daily loop. New place. New people. A little bit of hope swept up from the corners.

So I guess the trick is to find an excuse to go out once a week. Thursdays seem to be the common choice: I’m not sure why. Thursday’s have the advantage of being a ‘school night’ so I don’t feel too guilty about heading home early, which helps to take some of the pressure off. But that’s just me.

At any rate, it was the tonic I needed for my dark and onerous mood of late.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on June 8, 2018.

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