Every Sunday, I try to post an excerpt from my novel, The Awakening of Russell Henderson. Here’s another. The book is available at http://www.amazon.com/author/edwardlehner.

She saw my confusion and said, “What do you think?”

I stammered, “I’m not sure. I don’t know what to . . . or — ”

Meg smiled, “It’s abstract art. There’s no recognizable image and isn’t meant to depict anything other than to illicit emotions, feelings. Don’t try to see anything representational. Most people see a painting and expect a recognizable scene, or person, or something they can identify. Just look at this and let go of preconceptions.

“Early painters up through the late nineteenth century worked on portraying the world as it was, realistically, many times incorporating fantasy, mythology religious icons and such. The French Impressionists felt that representing what they painted as reality, like what everyone was doing, was not what they wanted to do. They were the first to start abstracting reality. Then Pablo Picasso and Georges Braques pushed abstraction even further with what they called Cubism. Then there were the Dadists. And now we have total abstraction that elicits pure emotion rather than any representation. There is still representative art and always will be. But I chose this genre and have done well with it. Sometime I want move away from this pure abstraction and to something else, but for now, this is what I do. It has served me well.”

 I noticed her as she had turned, talking to me, how she cocked her head and twirled a loose strand of her hair, exactly like Hanna did. It was very sexy.

Every Sunday, I try to post an excerpt from my novel, The Awakening of Russell Henderson. Here’s another. The book is available at http://www.amazon.com/author/edwardlehner.

City Lights was another San Francisco landmark, established in 1953 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Peter D. Martin, Martin who left after two years. The store specializes in world literature, arts, and progressive politics. The signs in the upper four windows read: ‘Open Door, Open Books, Open Mind, Open Heart’.

Inside, Frank went to talk with the manager, something about his book. I roamed the main floor, then the upper, and then discovered a basement. I wanted to read everything here. Frank found me down stairs.

“Hey, Frank, what do you recommend? Anything about what you talked about earlier?”

He motioned me to follow him to the philosophy section and pointed out several books on Existentialism and Deconstruction. Then he said, “I have these back at the house and you are more than welcome to read them, if you’re going to be around, that is?”

“Thanks. We’ll see. If so, I’ll take you up on your offer.” I had already picked up a novel and another book on Buddhism. 

We left and drove back to Sausalito without talking. I sat back, enjoying the city sights and the return trip across the Golden Gate Bridge.

Every Sunday, I try to post an excerpt from my novel, The Awakening of Russell Henderson. Here’s another. The book is available at http://www.amazon.com/author/edwardlehner.

After another session of beautiful sex, I remembered nothing until, “Get up sleepy head, we’re leaving in a half hour.” I opened my eyes and saw Hanna standing over me, dressed in yoga pants and a tight black Tee that read ‘Yoga Bitch’.

“What time is it? I was really asleep. How long have you been up?”

“Not long. Coffee’s ready. Mom made some killer muffins.”

“I’m going to have to pass. I have some phone calls to make, to Chicago and it’s already 10:30 there. I’ve put it off too long already. I have to let them know what’s up. Next time?”

Hanna looked at me, “What? You okay?”

“Not really. I have to call my boss at Americo.”

“Wow, what are you going to do? You’re not going back, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe this is all ridiculous. I can’t drive around, living in a camper. I have good position and make good money. It really wasn’t that bad. I feel better about my life. My parents would be happier. Maybe things would be better — ”

Hanna gave me  look. I couldn’t tell if it was a look of surprise, dismay, or anger or all three rolled into one.

She turned away and started toward the kitchen, “Let’s go, Mom. Russell’s not coming. He’s going back to fucking Chicago.”