Today is a free writing day. Write at least four-hundred words, and once you start typing, don’t stop. No self-editing, no trash-talking, and no second guessing: just go. Bonus points if you tackle an idea you’ve been playing with but think is too silly to post about.
Daylight had crept through the openings of the curtains giving me a chance to wake before the rooster crowed. Dan’s 80s sing-a-long and thumping throughout the apartment was a sure sign I had overslept. The four hour rest period was more than enough to keep me on my feet and if not the images of Donzilan flashing through my head would do the trick. I forgot how many people I had told in my drunken state and now my phone was lighting up every minute. After responding to the final “did you get pictures?” text there was a normal one asking me out for breakfast this morning. It was Stella, who I had met earlier in the night. She seemed to be a very fun girl and apparently had a sense of humor; there was no way I’d make breakfast but I would do lunch.
“Eww wee, girl what time did you get in last night?” Dan asked. “Or should I say this morning?”
“It wasn’t that late, almost five, I think,” I answered.
“Child, you kids today and your partying.” He said handing me the glass of water. “Don’t get me wrong you need to have fun, but every night? I couldn’t do it.”
Dan was a flaming Puerto Rican with a chiseled physique and high cheekbones. He moved from Virginia and lived in the city for fifteen years. Besides working on his fitness he was an LGBT camp counselor who had just been laid off a few weeks ago.
“New night, new adventure,” I teased. “I actually met Donzilan last night!”
“Shut up! That must’ve been exciting.”
“It was crazy, I also ran into a former classmate from Atlanta and I’m having lunch with his friend who lives here.”
“Girl that’s the universe for you, but you needs to get on those castings.”
“I promise I will.”
Dan had more interest in my modelling career than I did, he always asked for pictures and if I had castings. He was melodramatic but very thoughtful.
Looking in the mirror didn’t help me, I wasn’t expecting to see my polished self but at least appear halfway decent, eww wee was right. My eyeliner and mascara were smeared all over my under eyes and my false lashes hanging at the end of my lash line. My hair was a big tousled mess, matted into a stringy poof. The left side of my face seemed a bit puffy and I felt exactly how I looked, gross. All in all it was the evidence of a very good night and I would do it again if I had to. A cold shower would rid the zombie like feeling. I wasn’t a big drinker when I went out but some nights I felt the urge to go overboard and always regretted it the morning after. The cool water running down my limp body felt like a surge of energy bringing me back to life, it was just what I needed.