Beantown Breakdown

We went to a restaurant last night in the North End; Italian joint with tables set up in the big wine cellar. It was cool and dark and quite the tony experience. I hung out, soaked up the free food, and then made my way out to the street where I met this friend of mine from Atlanta who moved to Boston five years ago.

He and I walked around the waterfront; these huge majestic cruising yachts were gliding past us in the darkness, their lines tastefully accented by the silvery moonlight. As one boat swished by we could see these shadowy figures on the deck as they finished their dinner. You could hear the soft clink of silverware and see wine glasses glint and cigar ends glow. My friend said that there was no reason why we shouldn't be on that boat having dinner instead of down on the pier watching.

My friend was telling me about a company he wants to start. He's the incurable optimist.

"It's all a game," he was saying. "We just have to get it started and then it's all a game."

I was thinking about my gut. How if this one thing would fix itself then I could take on the world. A cartoon tiger named Tony would bound into the scene, throw his arm around my shoulders, and lead me through a montage of success. Show me writing the perfect code; signing the IPO papers while other entrepreneurs watched from the sidelines with loud exclamations of amazement and dismay.

Earlier in the day I put a sentimental song in my headphones and walked to the edge of this little promontory overlooking Boston Harbor. The sun was hovering over the distant buildings of downtown and the wind was hard on the water; in the place where the sunlight lay in a blazing path across the harbor it looked as if the sea were literally boiling. I watched this effect for some time, idly wondering if I hadn't read that descriptive in Homer. It seemed like a very old idea. Into this boiling stretch of water came a small sailboat piloted by an old man. He and his old wife sat very straight in little well of the sailboat as it seesawed over the waves. That made me think of my wife and I let myself love her and miss her a little bit. I thought that someone with more talent than myself could write a story where a character is mentally unfaithful to their spouse during a long trip but then comes to realize they really love said spouse. By this time the song was over and I turned to go inside.