The other day a friend and I went out to lunch. Of course some might say I’m always out to lunch. Get it? Hee hee…woo…hmm, yeah.
Anyways, I’ve been a little down lately, and at lunch I was lamenting the current state of affairs in my life. As we talked, she pointed out to me that it seemed that all I’ve gotten out of New York so far was a drinking problem.
Now… at first this seemed very sad. But then I realized something: A drinking problem is far from all I’ve gotten out of my New York experience. I’ve gotten so much more than that. Why, I’ve got a boring job and an apartment next to a crack house! I’ve even got a severe case of depression!
Just a drinking problem. Please.
So, my friend and I proceeded to go over the factors that were currently contributing to my depression:
- I dislike my job;
- I live in the projects;
- I have an alcohol problem; and
- I have no prospects for love.
And then I had an epiphany. My career path unfolded right before my eyes. My present may be bleak, but my future was bright as the midday sun! I’m going to be a tortured artist. I mean, am I the perfect candidate for a creative career or what?
We ran down this list, and my friend turned to me and said…well, actually to be totally accurate she didn’t turn. She was already facing me because we were seated across from each other. It just seemed that to add a little drama I should throw that “turned to me” in there, you know? It was for your benefit… but I digress.
Where was I…oh, yes… As we ran down this list, my friend said to me:
“You should write a novel.”
And you know what? Yes, I should.
Sure, I have no training, and I don’t actually have any ideas for a book, but that’s neither here nor there. I’ve got the artist’s Bohemian lifestyle down pat, and that’s really all that counts.
So I hate my job. Did Kerouac like his day job? No! So I live in the slums. Did Steinbeck grow up in the lap of luxury? No! So I drink. Did Hemmingway get pissed every night and then throw up on his cats? Yes. And as for love, you think Charles Dickens ever got laid? Well, you may not think about it much, but I do, and let me tell you: he didn’t.
I’m so excited. I’m going to write a whole novel! Just having this one thing going for me makes everything else fall into place. I mean, my job isn’t that bad. I like the people, and I’m learning a lot. And sure, my apartment’s no castle, but I live in the center of one of the world’s best cities. And you know what? There’s tons of stuff to do in this town other than drink. I don’t need alcohol! As for love, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet the love of my life in the grocery store or at a Starbucks or while watching a Broadway show. You always find love when you’re least expecting it.
Man, my life has really turned around. I feel great!
Huh. I’m really not motivated to write that novel anymore.