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24 may 2000
----- Lunchtime. The CEO just called. Seems he liked the new business cards so much he wants 40 more FedExed to him today. "People kept taking them and saying how cool they were," he said. "Can you print me some more for tomorrow?" Who am I to say no to the guy who signs my paycheck? So I launched Illustrator, whipped up a new sheet of ten cards, hit the "print" button, and got an "out of ink" error message from the printer. Oh well, looks like I'm gonna have to run down to Creative Computers this afternoon. Sure enough, I woke up at about 4 this morning to find my lack-of-an-ass trying to squeeze itself between two of the wooden slats supporting what was left of the air mattress I was sleeping on. Too lazy to get out the pump and reinflate the leaky piece of shit, I grabbed a pillow and threw it under my butt, and promptly fell back asleep. And now I'm wondering why my back's been hurting all morning. Looks like I'll have to push my Malibu move-in forward by a couple of days. Tonight will be my first night in the new apartment. I want my bed back, and I'm too old to be sleeping on a slow-leaking inflatable. On the bright side, yesterday I called my old boss and he pointed me to a Japanese mega-store in Gardena where I'll be able to find tatami mats for the new bedroom. Hopefully I'll be able to get down there this weekend ... South Bay is quite a haul from Malibu. Of course, there's also the problem of being able to fit two 3' X 6' pieces of flooring into my car, but I guess I'll worry about that when the time comes. ~~~ So I did it. I moved. I moved myself, as opposed to my belongings. I'm here, in bed, in Malibu. And it's way strange. Way quiet. My senses can't compute. Nothing looks, sounds, feels, tastes, or smells right. It's almost like I'm away on vacation, in a hotel room. But moreso it recalls my first night of sleep-away camp. Umfamiliar surroundings, a profound sense of loneliness, quiet, almost alien... But then, vacation and sleepaway camp don't call themselves "home," and "home" is where I'm at right now. Reluctant, perhaps, though I don't know if the reluctance is on the part of me or my environment. Both I can control. And yet, uncomfort threatens to drown me. After getting the bed together, I drove across PCH to Granita, the oh-so-chi-chi hangout of my rich and famous new neighbors. I dined alone at the bar, spent $70 on myself, and slowly talked my mind out of the morose that had overwhelmed me since hours earlier, when I finally decided to call Malibu my home. Sleep beckons, and tonight I'll give in without a fight. It's going to take a while to get myself into this place, or get this place into me, or both, or whatever need be. For now, I'll try to enjoy the newness of it and forget the disheartening solitude. 24 may 1999: didn't write : 24 may 1998: looking the other way : Lying in bed now, drinking Oregon chai. I have no idea what makes this stuff different from California chai, or even Bombay chai, but it's still quite tasty.
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