In My Write Mind
...Soundtrack: Have A Little Faith in Me, Chaka Khan (Disappearing Acts)...
I can't wait until the weekend, for some reason. While I haven't completed my assignment or even decided where my next meal will come from, it's still the weekend...so it's all good. Today, after work is drinks with Robyn and her crew, followed by the twisting, stomach-knotting torture better known as Yankees-Red Sox, Game Three.
Yes, I will bite nails down to disfigured nubs, probably intake entirely too much cold cereal during the first inning (and most likely, if the Yankees get a lead, will lather, rinse & repeat the cereal ritual), call my mom in the middle of the fifth to make sure she got to my sister's house, put my phone on mute while still checking periodically to see if a pretty young lady calls (hey, it IS Friday), map out my Saturday once the game ends (planning everything around Game 4, of course), think about how I still didn't finish my assignment, get over it, check out all the shows I TiVoed throughout the week, see what rapper or R&B singer Jimmy Kimmel is featuring tonight, fall asleep while waiting to see said rapper/R&B singer, wake up Saturday (God willing), head to Brooklyn to see my fam, do some CD (Talib & Def have new joints) & DVD shopping (I think the third season of Punky Brewster just came out Tuesday), come into work, fake like I'm concentrating on my assignment when I'm actually chatting on Yahoo! all day and completing the Daily News Saturday crossword, leave work, flip a coin to see who's house I'm going over Saturday night, go to the coin-winner's abode, sans food or drink, proceed to feast on their vittles, sneak in their bedrooms or rec rooms to catch some of Game 4, stay sequestered in there until they drag me out, get kicked out while explaining that IT'S GAME FOUR, for Christ sakes!!!!, head to the local bar in the neighborhood and stand for the next two hours as people never leave the bar, 659 pitching changes are made, I order an appetizer that takes 789 minutes to be prepared, nurse a beer other than Red Stripe (my beer of choice, but hey, I can't be choosy, I just got kicked out of someone's house), leave the bar after the Yankees hopefully win, wander aimlessly around the neighborhood with my Yankees cap and a nasty beer headache, stumble home and to my TV, where I will watch replays of said win over and over until my eyes begin to leak Yankee pinstripes, then wake up Sunday (God willing) and get the paper to read more about it, make last minute brunch plans with Tee or Brandi or Robyn or whomever will see me at this late hour, head to Queens before the football games start, fall asleep on my mom's porch while watching Jets-Niners or whatever CBS is showing, wake up halfway through and realize that I ate too much at brunch, spend some quality time with a magazine in the upstairs "office" in "flush-ing" (hehehe), go see the second half of the games, make sure I'm still having dinner with my friend Tomeca, who's moving to Virginia next week, beg her to take me home to Harlem, say goodbye, set up my TiVo for the following week, lay there while waiting for Desperate Housewives (pretty good thus far) and The Wire (ding-dong! Avon calling) to come on, think about that assignment that I have to finish on Monday, get over it, catch Boston Legal (Denny Crain!) while TiVoing The Surreal Life (two words--Flavor Flav), keep checking the muted phone for pretty young lady calls, fall asleep and wake up early Monday (God willing) and head into work and face...that damn assignment.
Next week, I'll get it done. God Willing, of course...
scribbled by Will at 10/15/2004 01:24:00 PM
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I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. (Joan Didion)
The Write One
Will. Lefty. Since Summer 1971. Over the next six months, I'll be saying some hellos, some goodbyes. Living, laughing, growing. Don't.miss.a.word.
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