A Conversation with the Smartest Man in the Room
The other day, I was sitting in my room and trying to figure out what I had to do for the day. It was a nice, sunny day so I went out on the balcony and just people watched for a time. As I looked over the railing, I noticed a woman standing on the corner. There was nothing conspicuous about her. She was an older woman, gray hair cut short, like a nurse, a tan London Fog overcoat with four buttons, white blouse, dark pants and a pair of brown, casual and sensible shoes. She was an attractive older woman. I bet she was a looker back in the day. So I stood there watching her. The light turned green but she didn’t cross. Now she piqued my interest. She just stood there, looking in all directions. I thought, “she must be lost and can’t figure out where to go.” I contemplated going downstairs and asking her if she needed help. But I didn’t. I wanted to see this thing play out. The light turned green again, and again she didn’t move. Now i’m fully intrigued. I thought, “how bizarre? Why does she not cross?” After what felt like an eternity, (but what was in actuality was 10 minutes), a car pulled up, a silver Camry, the door opened, and she stepped in. Whisked away to join the other 10,000 cars coming down Front street and into the fray that is Downtown driving. This led to conversation that I had with myself as a result of this little vignette that I just witnessed. I sat in the sun with my eyes closed, absorbing the warmth from the sun’s rays when we started our conversation. It went something like this:
Other Me: What does it mean?
Me: What does what mean?
Other Me: Everything, life, love, food, family, friends, cars, sex… everything?
Me: If I knew I’d be a millionaire. I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.
Other Me: I’m serious. It keeps me up at night trying to figure out the meaning of life.
Me: Oh brother. Why don’t you, like, grow a goatee, wear black turtle necks, smoke cigarettes and frequent all the open mic nights at different coffee shops so you can share your heaviosity. I mean really, you sound like a cliché.
Other Me: Do you mean to tell me you don’t think about it?
Me: I think about it, but I don’t dwell on it. If I did, I’d go mad. In my 38 years, through trials and tribulation I’ve learned that the only way for me to survive this ride called life is to accept life on life’s terms. That means sometimes I hit my point and life’s good and sometimes I roll the dice, out comes snake eyes and I crap out. You don’t have to approve of everything that happens in your world, but you have to accept it and come to terms with that. If not, then you’re treading water in the deep end of the philosophical pool, and the way you think, your floaties don’t have enough air to keep that fat body afloat for long.
Other Me: Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit…you twit!
Me: Ha ha, your so funny I forgot to laugh.
Other Me: Whatever asshole. Go ahead and be glib about it if you want to. But when the fit hits the shan, when you are at that moment of clarity right before the ride ends, you’ll look back and say what, uhh, like cool man, like my life was rad! Get real.
Me: There are people in this world, hell, in this city, shit, on this block that don’t know where their next meal is going to come from. Do you think they have the luxury of contemplating the universe and the meaning of live. You get real! Take up a hobby. Looking at you, I’d recommend working out…
Other Me: Point taken, and fuck you very much. By the way, I’m you and you are me.
Me: Oh yeah, my bad.
Other Me: Anyways…
Me: Anyways?
Other Me: Yeah, anyways.
Me: Anyways is not a word, it’s anyway, not “anyways.” Just like “these ones” or “those ones,” it’s “these” or “those,” drop the “ones.”
Other Me: God I hate people like you. You’re one of those pricks who have to whip out their literary prowess whenever anybody makes a verbal faux paus. So what if I want to say “anyways.” I like it and I’ll use it whenever and wherever I want.
Me: Fine.
Other Me: Fine.
Me: Good.
Other Me: Good.
Me: And no, .I don’t correct people when they butcher the English language, but I must admit I do correct them in my head 
.
Other Me: God, your a pain in the ass!
Enter God: What did you just call me.
Other Me: Holy Shit! I mean, wow what are you doing here.
God: I was in the neighborhood, buying some Prosciutto and salami for a party I’m hosting and I heard you two knuckleheads blathering on about a bunch of nonsense. Just kidding, I wasn’t buying Prosciutto or salami, I’m a vegan.
Other Me: Doesn’t being a vegan make you fart more frequently and with a stronger odor?
God: I don’t fart.
Other Me: Oh, I’m sorry God, my bad.
Me: He’s just asking because we dated a vegan once and I mean this girl could fill the Hindenburg with her fumes in one day. I mean we could completely abandon our reliability on fossil fuels if we could harness the vapors that she expelled. She could…
God: OK I get it.
Me: Sorry.
Other Me: God, can you help us with this dilemna. Can you please explain to us what is the meaning of life?
God: Well I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. Just kidding, no but seriously, I would have to kill you. dead.
Other Me: How bout charades? Can you show us if we played charades?
Me: Are you trying to incur the wrath of God? Shut the F up!
God: You can curse out loud. It’s not like I can’t hear you saying “fuck” in your head.
Me: Oh, yeah, I mean, your God.
God: Damn Skippy! And you, smart ass. Charades huh. You know what happened to the last guy who was a smart ass to me?
Other Me: You made him the Devil?
God: No.
Other Me: You made him a meter reader?
God: Keep it up smart ass…
Other Me: I’m sorry God, I’ll keep my trap shut.
God: Ever heard of a Platypus?
Me: Holy shit! So that is why we have the platypus. Who would have thought…I just figured you got some really good weed, say from Humbolt County, put on some Doobie Brothers, turned on the lava lamp and stared at your poster of Farah Fawcett on the Mexican blanket and decided to “shake things up.”
God: HOW DARE YOU PRESUME TO KNOW THE MIND OF GOD!!!!
Other Me: He did it! Not me! Please don’t make me a platypus!
Me: Oh God!!! (isn’t that ironic, I’m screaming oh God, to God to keep God from turning me into a platypus), huh.
God: Aaaaah Gotcha! I was just messing with you.
Me: (very quietly) Gotcha’s not a word.
God: What!
Me: Oh nothing nothing.
God: Fool, I can hear your thoughts. I pity the fool who thinks he can correct me. I got that line from Mr. T. I loved the A Team. Man they just don’t make American action adventure television series like they used to.
Other Me: Amen Brother!
God: Time’s awastin. Let’s get down to brass tax. You two foolios are debating the meaning of this life that I’ve given you.
Me: yes.
Other me: yeah.
God: Well, I’d be doing you a grave injustice if I tried to explain it to you because I designed you not to know. You see, to know and understand the meaning of life would diminish the experience of this thing called life. It’s like getting a great book and reading the last 10 pages to find out how it ends before experiencing the process of reading the book itself. Imagine going to a movie after knowing who is in it, what the plot is, what happens, and how it ends. Would you still go and see that movie? You have been given this privilege of life. Focus on experiencing it, and less on trying to make sense of it. Don’t waste your moment of existence on frivolity. Take time to enjoy those little moments that make your existence meaningful. Roman, I know how much joy you experience when you take your sheets and blanket out of the dryer and they’re warm and smell fresh from the softener. I know how much pleasure you take in slipping into those clean sheets at bedtime. I see the smile on your face as you fall to sleep. I know the pleasure you take from spending time with your friends and family. How it fills those crags in your soul that reinforces those blocks that makes you you. I know how much you enjoy cooking and the satisfaction and feeling of accomplishment you feel when you cook for friends and family. You see, it is more important to focus on experiencing life, than to try to make sense of it. I am using language that I know you can understand. If I used my own vernacular, your head would explode. Just kidding, no but seriously, it would explode. Like a melon with a M80 firecracker in it.
Other Me: Got it.
Me: Me too.
God: I only ask one thing from the two of you.
Together: What is it?
God: Be good. Be good to yourself. To others. Be kind, be humble, be honest, be loving, be authentic. I know you can never be perfect, because if you were, you’d be Me. And I’m not giving up my job any time soon.
Other Me: Word!
Me: Well, thank you God, I think we have a better understanding of what we have to do.
Other Me: Speak for yourself. God, what about my proposal of charades?
God: Does your butt itch?
Other Me: A little, why?
God: Because your growing a platypus tail.
Other Me: Oh God, No!!!!!!
God: Just kidding! I needed to stick it to you one last time before I leave you two. Your still a smart ass, but you’ve got spunk, and spunk carries some weight. Peace out fellas.
Together: Peace out God.
Me: So what do you think?
Other Me: I think I need to get with the program
Me: Word.
Other Me: Oh stop trying to sound black, you grew up with white kids in the suburbs
Me: Word.
Other Me: Yeah, word. I’m getting hungry, how bout we go and make a bologna sandwich. With real Wonder bread, real mayonnaise, real mustard and a side of potato chips on a paper plate.
Me: Man, that sounds delicious right now. FYI, “bout” is not a word.
Other Me: Oh STFU! (that means shut the fuck up)
Love,
Roman
