I started writing a “story” and hit a wall, hard. As I was babbling about yesterday, we saw two forms of entertainment today: “Batman Begins,” and “View from the Bridge.” While it’s difficult to compare movies and plays, I enjoyed both, and I learned something important that I had hopes of applying to my writing.

Before I get there, I have to talk about the title. I have nothing against Literature majors. Hell, if I had to do it again, I would probably have added it to my long list of degrees. What I’ve grown sick of, however, is my endless discussion on writing, my countless paragraph and words that I devote to talking about how I’m going to make it all better. All of my analysis and promises and consternations I follow up with nothing. I spend so much time wasting words on this because I’m scared of spending words or thoughts on stories. So much babbling again.

What I learned from the play—and will share with you instead of writing a story—is that good stories don’t need explosions, they need characters and simple situation. There were few if any clever lines in the play, but it was enjoyable, and it was a story. That’s what I need to tell: simple stories with interesting characters that do something. Bah. I repeat myself.

I thought about pounding out the Goal tonight, but I don’t feel up to it. I’m disappointed with my feeble attempts below. I reached a story-decision point in the writing, and I click over to the internets, and return here to put words in this part instead of the story part. It sickens me. I know. More consternations.

On a positive note, I’m having a wonderful time with beautiful Doolies. Tomorrow should be a more relaxing day. In the afternoon, we will go to one of the resident’s houses for a potluck lunch for the new interns. Doolies made a reservation at a new restaurant for the evening, but other than that, we plan to relax, maybe go for a swim if the weather warms up (it’s been in the 60s, which is delightful, but a bit cool for swimming).

I won’t waste your time with many more words. Failure never tastes good.

***

“I am Batman,” Tommy said.

“No you’re not,” I said for the third time. We had just gotten out of the movies and were walking back to Tommy’s house. Tommy’s energy scared me sometimes. Out of all of our friends, he was the only one who could jump around for hours and not get tired. It served him well on the basketball court, where he played point guard for our junior high school team. But when we were alone, his energy made me nervous.

“How do you know I’m not Batman?”

“First, because there is no such thing as Batman, it’s just a movie guy. And second, even if there were such a thing as Batman, you sure as hell aren’t going to be him. For one, you’re too scrawny. Batman would be huge and muscular. Not to mention taller, Batman would be much taller.” That shut Tommy up. He was very sensitive about his height. He was the shorter kid in class, and while he was quick as a squirrel, he hadn’t grown much since we were freshman in school. It was a sore spot with him, and a sure way to shut him when his energy threatened to swallow you.

Tommy didn’t say anything as we walked the next three blocks. A block from his house, he stopped. Three pictures were leaning against the trash. “You think they’re throwing those away,” Tommy asked.

“Probably.”

Tommy leaned the first one back. It was a photograph of leopard hunting its prey. Behind the first one was a photograph of two frogs with red feet on a lily pad. Tommy stared at the third photograph the longest. It showed