There you go,
Falling off the map.
And who would’ve known
The Earth is really flat?
~ “Stars are Falling” by Dog’s Eye View
I used to be a writer. I don’t know what I am now; but that isn’t it. Still, I am clawing my way back. Along the journey that we will call “My Life”, because, well, it is my life, I have encountered some characters. One in particular inspired me to be a better writer when I actually wrote. ‘Addis’ has a natural talent for putting the truth on paper in such a way that it jumps into the reader’s mind as fiction. Think Hunter S. Thompson and Tucker Max on mescaline. That is ‘Addis’.
I have lived vicariously through him many, many times. He has travelled everywhere and done everything and I am envious of his freedom. My favourite picture of ‘Addis’ is one where he is lounging across Saddam Hussein’s throne with a devious look on his face. Good times! When I once expressed my desire to stay at the Burj Al Arab in Dubai, his response was, “It’s gaudy. I prefer the Ritz in Paris.”
Before a family vacation I took to D.C. in 2006, ‘Addis’ recommended that we go to Dupont Circle and eat at Pizzeria Paradiso. He promised it was one of the best in the world. I argued that Fat Freddy’s in Galway was the best pizza in the world, to which he said, he had eaten both and that Pizzeria paradise would definitely be my preference after trying it. He was right, as usual.
The thing that made him so different than the other people in my life is that his only expectation of me (and anyone, really) was that I find my truth and get it on paper (virtual or otherwise). He didn’t use a moral compass to dictate what I should do or say or feel. He provided me with constant feedback on anything I wrote and gave suggestions which made me a better writer (and arguably a better human). I look back at his stories and laugh aloud at the adventures he chose to share; adventures with bicycles and flak jackets and computer programming.
I don’t know the last time I spoke to ‘Addis’. It has been years. Last I heard, he had gotten married on a whim to an Irish lass who made his heart pitter-patter (my words, not his). Not sure how that turned out; but I hope well, as he deserves to be happy. He is on LinkedIn; a fact I discovered today when I decided to write this. I did not elect to “connect” with him. I don’t think I have lived up to my part of the bargain. When I am once again a writer, perhaps I will do so.
I used to be a writer.
PERSONAL NOTE: Have a safe drive!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: “There is no use trying,” said Alice; “one can’t believe impossible things.”
