Friday, November 11, 2005

Rooftop Access

I’m standing on top of the rooftop of my building with Rebekah, Colby (her boyfriend), a couple of their friends and Toby (my co-worker) drinking wine. It’s cold and I’m happy. Earlier, I served the gang. (Random ramble: I’m bored at work. I’m slumming it. It’s a place that I hate to be, for many reasons, one of which is that I’m bored all the time. It’s mentally unchallenging. No one cares and it shows. All of my co-workers exhibit no desire to be better at their jobs and that is unusual for me. I’m surrounded by accepted mediocrity. How did I get here? I feel like that Simple Minds song.) But now we’re all drinking a couple bottles of wine. Toby and one of Colby’s friends, Jessie, are on a one way ticket to each other’s pants.
“Yeah they are.”
“Rebekah what are you doing talking on my blog?”
“I’m just…you know…telling your readers that you are so right about Jessie and Toby. Hey readers, I was the one who knew they’d get along.”
“Yes yes. Rebekah is the one who predicted that they’d be into each other. But lady, are you going to let me tell the story or are you going to interrupt me? Because I’ll end this blog post right here missy.”
“Alright alright. I’m sorry.”
Anyway, it’s cold and now the wine is finished. We venture down to the apartment. It’s warm in there. Toasty.
Eventually, Toby and I hatch a scheme to go to Corner Bistro for watered down beer and quality burgers. Everyone reluctantly joins us. Toby and Jessie kiss on the way. (Random rant: Jessie and I, all night, are hitting each other. She started it by touching me while I was serving the table, which escalated to her punching me by the time we got to my apartment. She continued this throughout the rest of the night. I, as a gentleman, only retaliated after I consumed some wine. That’s when I slapped her. A couple times. It was weird. But she started it.) Rebekah and troupe leave about ten minutes after we get there. So now I’ve got a couple beers to finish and a burger. I eat and drink quickly and then book it outta there. Toby and Jessie are going home for some hardcore banging and I really feel awkward about being there. Wouldn’t you?
--
I slept on the floor of my living room. Woke up at 7. Four hours. Fuck. Dead tired. I’m up. Going back to sleep isn’t an option. I pack my computer and go to the coffeehouse. I stake out some prime real estate and start writing. The morning is intense here. A couple times there’s a line that’s out the door.
I’m surrounded by people with their routine. A couple sits down next to me. Two toasted bagels with coffees. They don’t talk for the first 15 minutes that they’re here. They just stare at each other. And they brought separate reading materials. So she’s got her New Yorker and he a free publication I fail to identify. I glance over and see she’s reading an article titled “Best Year Of My Life”. Great title.

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