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Sunday, 20 September 2009 (turning minutes to hours) 12:22pm After dropping Marta off at her place last night, I went to Pete and Sarah's house to drink wine, eat popcorn and watch Breaking Bad. I thought about going to Divas afterward to dance, but it was already past the time that the cover charge kicks in, so I just went home. Besides, I had this notion in my head that I would get a good night's sleep, then go running in the morning. Which I did accomplish, somehow. There's a lot more people on the walkway along the beach on the weekends than on weekdays, though. Oh well. Nothing's perfect. sometime after midnight I got stoned before Bad Movie Night this evening. Jim offered, and I accepted. It was about five in the afternoon, and by the time people started showing up at half past seven I'd mostly come down. I am such a lightweight—one hit off a pipe, and not even that deep a hit, was all it took for me. I guess it's a good thing that I know my limitations (and haven't been anything resembling a stoner since well before Maddy moved out), but damn. Mostly, it just made me wish that Marta was around. The movie itself (Dangerous Minds) went well, we got a decent audience, and I made a little cash, which'll help me make it through this week. | ||
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Saturday, 19 September 2009 (silent remnants) 1:56pm I'm pretty sure it's Saturday, but it feels a hell a of a lot like Sunday, mostly because Marta spent the night and that's usually a Saturday night thing. But this week, for various reasons, it was Friday night. First we joined KrOB to see 9 (KrOB was kind enough to buy my ticket), and after that Marta and I checked out The Power Exchange's new location. Tried to, anyway. I mean, we certainly got a good look at the outside, but couldn't go in—just before we arrived it got shut down by the fire department. Rhonda, Artwhore and the owner were out front, among others, and it was nice to see my friends and introduce them to Marta and hang out for a while and get a better sense of the swirling politics. It would have been even nicer to get to go inside and check the place out, but alas. We stayed for about twenty minutes, then returned to Phoebe, who was parked relatively safely on Folsom near Sixth. As much as I'm going to miss the hella convenient parking at the old location, this one will be more doable than I'd originally suspected. And if worse comes to aboslute worse (as it's known to), I can park Phoebe in my old office's parking lot. It's a mile away, but away from the Tenderloin, and it's also gated, which counts for a lot. Artwhore, a very tough-looking guy who can take care of himself, was clearly skeeved out by the Tenderloin being so close. Makes me feel a little less middle-class about it. Today, Marta and I walked to Other Avenues and back to get guacamole fixings. Exercise! And guacamole! | ||
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Friday, 18 September 2009 (the best world possible) 6:18pm Ugh. This is where things start getting dicey—my unemployment claim just ran out. (Frak me, has it been six months already?) (Oh my yes.) According to the stub, since I may qualify for extended benefits, I should call my unemployment insurance office immediately or visit their web site. I called the office on Mission, who said they don't handle this sort of thing but gave me another number to call, a pre-recorded message with all sorts of fascinating information about how to file for one's second extension, but not the first. The relevant page on the website says that if I'm eligible to file the first extension—and figuring out whether or not I am requires math which is a bit beyond my walnut-sized brain—the Department will automatically file the first extension and send me additional continued claim forms, ergo no action is required on my part. In other words, sit tight and let the system do its job. In more other words, I may be jolly well fucked. | ||
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Thursday, 17 September 2009 (gray to orange to green) 4:51pm I did make it to the gym for the first time in over a month, and did cardio for an hour. Felt like old times, and hey, I even got some reading done! (Nathan Rabin's The Big Rewind: A Memoir Brought to You by Pop Culture, which I'd just picked up at the library.) Raphaela was there. She said she misses me and is ready to start working with me again anytime, and that we can work something out regarding my financial situation, like a tab. Which sounds nice, though I'm not thrilled about the idea of going into debt with someone else (especially since I'm on the verge of having to start asking for favors), but the real problem is that I'm no longer in good enough shape to work with her, at least not at the level we were at a few months back. If I was able to do my hardcore hour or two of cardio a day, then sure, but even going running out along the beach (which I haven't done this week because it's been cold and I'm a wimp) doesn't get me sweaty and exercised nearly as much as the infernal devices I love so much. I just don't have the willpower to properly freestyle it, so to speak. A vicious circle, really. A dumb, stupid vicious circle. The friend of mine with the job lead just got hired on for real at the advertising agency in question. It had been pretty much been a done deal, but she hadn't yet gotten the official salary letter and stuff, but now it's all on paper and she's starting in early October. That gives me a couple weeks to get my portfolio and resume and cover letter all properly synchronized, at which point she'll hand it off to the recruiter and talk me up. And what happens then is what happens. Anyway, last night after the gym I went to a cheap-for-what-it-is Chinese restaurant for dinner, and as I was finsihing up I got a frantic email from a fellow writer. Seem they had a gig that evening which they weren't going to be able to attend, and could I fill in for them? This was at six, and the gig was at half past six. Naturally, I said yes. It was a pretty low-key event, a lesbian book club held at a cafe. (I guess doesn't get more low-key than that.) Fortunately, I still had the pieces that I read at The Garage this past weekend in my backpack, as well as the super-rough first chapter of Landing on Water, so I was at no loss for material. Though I was probably a bit louder and more energetic than the kinds of readers they usually get, the members of the club seemed to like me, and a few of them came up to me afterward to tell me how much they enjoyed my set. (Don't let any performer suggest otherwise—ego-stroking from strangers is the best thing ever. I read "The Last Snowstorm of the Year" at The Garage on Monday night, and after the show an older man told me that it had made him nostalgic for his own visits to New Orleans, that I'd really brought it alive for him. I glowed a little.) Conscious of the fact that I took this last-minute gig rather than go to Depression 2.0 (which admittedly just looked like a beer-soaked schmoozefest), I made sure everyone there knew that I was seeking employment. Networking and all. From there, I went to The Dark Room to brainstorm with Jim about my host character for Tales from The Dark Room next month. It's gonna be fun. | ||
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Wednesday, 16 September 2009 (death from above) 11:21am We watched The Hangover last night, which she liked a lot, as did I. One of the best modern comedies I've seen in years. Tonight is Depression 2.0, a job-seeker networking event. It's high time I start going to more of those. And, since it's on the way, I'm planning on going to the gym. It's been a while, and I need to start undoing the damage. | ||
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Tuesday, 15 September 2009 (darkened windows) 8:03am Marta and I have this thing where we get up at seven, ping the other gmail, and write for the next hour straight. (This is only on nights where she's staying at her place, of course.) She overslept through it yesterday morning, and today was my turn. I needed the extra sleep, though. Honest. I have an appointment at the Jewish Vocational Services this afternoon with my employment specialist person to spruce up my resume for a copywriting job. It's a vague lead for a job, anyway, and it's the best thing on my radar right now. The only thing, really. At The Garage last night, I was a star. Joe even pressed me into service as a host, so I spent more than my share of time in the spotlight. Afterward, at Death Guild, I was nobody. It's good to keep some perspective. 5:16pm Ugh. I really wanted to believe that the KFC Double Down Sandwich did not exist, could not exist, but The Onion A.V. Club has confirmed it. In doing so, they've confirmed that it's a dark, godless universe, but we already knew that. Marta's coming over tonight. | ||
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Monday, 14 September 2009 (gabriel's horn) 7:51am Nope, not so much. Didn't make it to bed until closer to three, and I slept for all of four hours. This can't be good. Oh well. I'm getting some writing done, at least. 6:33pm I had me a good power-nap this afternoon—it always seems to hit right after my big lunch salad, go figure—and now I'm getting ready to head out for the second night of Open Season at The Garage. And I'm beginning to think that tonight may be the night of my annual Death Guild excursion. I'll probably be hella tired, but I'll be dressed for it (I'm gothing out for Open Season, just because) and I'll be in the neighborhood. And it's not like I'd be getting to sleep any sooner if I went straight home. 11:11pm Not quite The Mark of the Beast, but it'll do. sometime after midnight Y'know, I'm beginning to think it really is all relative to the size of your steeple. | ||
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Sunday, 13 September 2009 (you may not have given side impact collisions much thought) 11:52pm Marta and I had dinner last night at Kiji last night, then returned to the Black Light District to watch Duck Soup. (She didn't like it very much, but I love her all the same.) We crashed out afterward, then spent Sunday the way we usually: attempting to be productive, and even getting a little writing done, but most falling into bed together. It's a slippery slope, to say the least. We left the house in time for dinner at Big Lantern, and then I went solo to The Dark Room to get everything set up for Bad Movie Night, both because it was running from my laptop and I'm far too obsessive-compulsive at my show to let it happen without me there. Someday I'll actually be out of town for real on a Sunday night, I'm sure. Anyway, once the movie (Lean on Me) was actually running, I picked up Marta and we went to The Garage for Open Season, another San Francisco Fringe event. This one was far less pressure than Friday—I was one of seven performers and only had ten minutes, so I read "vestri pen0r quod vos", which I haven't read since last year and is always fun. After the show I dropped Marta back off at her place, returned to The Dark Room to get my laptop, and finally went home. Tired. Maybe I'll actually get to sleep before two in the morning. | ||
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Saturday, 12 September 2009 (the kind you can't conceal) 5:51am Good grief, it's like I'm living in a freaking Bob Seger song: I awoke to the sound of thunder. I wasn't sleeping well at all to begin with, and it took me a while to figure out if I was dreaming it, and if I wasn't dreaming then what the hell that sound might be. It took me a while to realize that it was, in fact, be thunder. One of those San Francisco Indian Summer thunderstorms. It wasn't my head fucking with me, for a change. This time it was Mother Nature. | ||
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Friday, 11 September 2009 (tonite it shows) 4:12pm I went out in search of canning equipment today, with no luck whatsoever. I'll probably just break down and buy an inexpensive set off Amazon. It would be an investment. Honest. Meanwhile, I've been reciting "Intersections and Interventions." I think I've got it. sometime after midnight Tonight's show was a big success. We got a good-sized audience, thanks in no small part to Melanie's friends, who actually attend her shows. (With very exceptions, mine don't. Normally I take it in stride, but it's beginning to hurt a little. Otherwise, I understand that I'm not a star and I don't have any marquee value.) There were even a few people whom neither of us recognized, which is always the best—strangers! I did both "Intersections and Interventions" and "The Last Dog and Pony Show" with Melanie doing a half-hour of comedy in between. Worked out perfectly, I think, the audience enjoyed it all. Afterward, I joined Melanie and her wife and her sister (two different people, mind you) for a late-night victory meal at Mel's. This time last year I would have told you I'd never eat there again, but, well, things are a lot different now than they were a year ago, or even a few months ago. Besides, we were celebrating, so I ordered a tuna melt on rye with cheese. I still do the vegan thing at home, but evidently not so much out in the world. Plus I've been buying regular yogurt rather than soy yogurt because it's more readily available and less expensive. I'm pleading poverty to excuse my lack of commitment. It's a lousy excuse, but there it is. There's a dangerous snowball effect happening, and I don't know that I'm strong enough to stop it. | ||
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