Writing and Reading

Believe me, certain experiences are worth writing about. And those certain experiences happen enough that they simply have to be chronicled in some way–either fiction or biography. I’m writing this post only because I absolutely have to–it’s too good to pass up. I’m talking surreal joy here, the kind of joy that makes you laugh and not have the power to stop simply because you’ve seen something completely nonsensical and illogical.

I have a day job. Yes, me, the wretched writer. And it’s an early day job, too. As in, I get up at 6:00 in the morning. Every day. Usually, it’s the shake-off-the-cobwebs-and-drag-my-sleeping-feet morning and pay-attention-to-the-road ordeal every day, and it’s usually boring and uneventful. I grab a granola bar and drink some juice for a quick breakfast, pack my lunch and head out.

This very morning itself was slightly different. You see, I have two roommates. Last night, it just so happened that one of my roommates had a couple friends over. My other roommate went to bed at some point. Not sure when. So for the rest of the night, it was my one roommate and his two friends, laughing and enjoying themselves. They had pizza. And beer, I’m sure. Absolutely nothing wrong with that. I say live it up.

Now, bear with me–we live up on the second floor apartment, and along with the front door there’s a back door out to a balcony with a stairway winding down to the parking lot. The balcony’s about a good four feet wide and spans across the way on the building about twenty feet.

I had my lunch packed, I’m ready to go–I open the back door to head out to my car in the back lot, and I find my roommate and his two friends sleeping peacefully. On the porch. On the floor of the porch. Literally passed out.

Luckily, it was a very comfortable night, not too cold, not too warm. The three of them were sprawled out, no blankets, no pillows. Just out in La La Land, snoring away, on the floor of the porch. And the three of them managed to blanket a section of the porch with their bodies.

I’m not joking–I had to carefully place my feet in several places to get across. It was like walking through a mine field. No kidding.

Once I was across the sleeping human mine field, I made my way to the car and couldn’t stop laughing.

Right there was prime material for any book, fiction or biography. See? Life can be entertaining and still be realistic!

Trackback URI | Comments RSS