Script Frenzy started April 1. I am giving up pretending to write a screenplay, because I am busy pretending to write other stuff. This post title, for example, is a memoir of life here in the three story condo that I am currently not writing. On the top floor lives my brother Scott, surrounded by his movies and music. In the middle lives my Dad with his new leather powered double recliner and his hi def TV. I live in the basement with the art I love and the art I create. The dog lives on two floors, preferring the floor that momentarily houses the person with food. The dog is not allowed in the basement, because he yaps at will and scares the hell out of me. I am too finely tuned for yapping dogs. Some may call it high strung, but that's their story. For meals, communal gatherings, and MORC or healthcare meetings, we share a floor. On any given day, we share a brain. These three floors are squashed between other condos, stage left lives Marilyn; stage right, the Florida snowbirds who all smoke. We can smell when they've arrived for the summer. Marilyn and I share metaphysical beliefs, and a passion for reading and homemade cookies. Marilyn is teaching me meditation, which will be handy when the snowbird smokers arrive next door, because they are also loud. They bang. We don't know on what, but it involves them having to shout over the banging. So when they bang and shout, I will meditate. Hopefully I can learn it by Memorial Weekend, when the big shiny black Mercedes pulls into the lot.
Monday, April 4, 2011
A Three Story Life
Script Frenzy started April 1. I am giving up pretending to write a screenplay, because I am busy pretending to write other stuff. This post title, for example, is a memoir of life here in the three story condo that I am currently not writing. On the top floor lives my brother Scott, surrounded by his movies and music. In the middle lives my Dad with his new leather powered double recliner and his hi def TV. I live in the basement with the art I love and the art I create. The dog lives on two floors, preferring the floor that momentarily houses the person with food. The dog is not allowed in the basement, because he yaps at will and scares the hell out of me. I am too finely tuned for yapping dogs. Some may call it high strung, but that's their story. For meals, communal gatherings, and MORC or healthcare meetings, we share a floor. On any given day, we share a brain. These three floors are squashed between other condos, stage left lives Marilyn; stage right, the Florida snowbirds who all smoke. We can smell when they've arrived for the summer. Marilyn and I share metaphysical beliefs, and a passion for reading and homemade cookies. Marilyn is teaching me meditation, which will be handy when the snowbird smokers arrive next door, because they are also loud. They bang. We don't know on what, but it involves them having to shout over the banging. So when they bang and shout, I will meditate. Hopefully I can learn it by Memorial Weekend, when the big shiny black Mercedes pulls into the lot.
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Oh write this one!!!
ReplyDeleteIt so makes me laugh!!
Thank you.