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11 july 2000
----- What a strange day. It was as if all four seasons of my mind lined themselves up in temporal unity, to play out a scripted drama that not even I could understand. Summer ... Awakening in sweat, mostly due to last night's ill-advised decision to sleep beneath a down comforter as opposed to a simple sheet. I know not what I was thinking. I was already late for work when I awoke, and I didn't care. I grabbed the computer from across the room, caught up on what had to be caught up on, made a few phone calls to the NY office, sat and stared at the ceiling for a while. At 10am I tried to go back to sleep, and succeeded for a good half-hour or so, awakening again to shower and shave (a very bad and lazy shave), and deposit myself onto Pacific Coast Highway for a late morning commute to lunch. Autumn ... In Santa Monica, I met my friend Y. (Y? Why? Because I can't think of a better pseudonym at this point) for lunch. It's been too long since I've seen her. We caught up over Thai food and caffeine ... somehow the conversation drifted to my (lack-of-a) sex life, and how I somehow need to go against the grain and turn myself into an asshole to get laid, which I inherently reject in favor of my right hand, which will satisfy me without guilt and allow me to live the good life with a clear conscience. It was really good to see her again, and our early afternoon culminated on the third floor of Santa Monica Place mall, where I purchased two identical earrings for myself, based on Y's recommendation, which now hang from my ears, and prompt me to vigorously shake my head back and forth every hour or so just to feel them dangle. Completing the earring purchase, and my cellphone rang. It was the President and CEO (two separate people) of my company on conference call. I told them I was lunching, and I'd call them back... Winter ... Thirty minutes later, in the office, I called the bosses back. They proceeded to rip me and each other a new you-know-what about the state of our website. The sick thing was, I couldn't tell if they were more pissed at me or each other. It was like a good-cop-bad-cop drama played out in a very wrong way. I sat there on the phone listening to these two victims arguing with each other and using me as leverage in their battle. In the end, I felt like a Foucault pendulum, swinging back and forth, swayed by the momentum of some external and unexplained force. It was an unexpected and really nasty addition to my daily grind. When the call finally ended, I proceeded to bitch and moan to my one trusted coworker about "underappreciated little me" -- I managed to get it out of my system. My cellphone rang ... Brutus, calling from Malibu, explaining that my "official job offer" from the courting-company is about to come through, so I should start getting ready to give two weeks notice. Which basically leaves previous said piss-me-off phone call as a moot point. I chugged a 16 oz cup of coffee. My head felt like it was ready to explode. I spent the rest of the afternoon making our website better and trying to catch up on email, despite the fact that the extended trial period of my trusty email client has expired, and now I have to wait three days for an activation key since I love the software so much I felt compelled to pay for it. So I'm using Pine and Eudora Light, alternately and temporarilly, hoping the new serial number will arrive soon for my preferred Musashi. Frankly, it's a pain in the ass. I busied myself in the office until 6:45, at which point I left to meet Rachel for dinner. I enjoyed an all-too-brief transcontinental cellphone conversation on the way to Rachel's, and reflected to myself how I can't seem to find the time to sit back, relax, and _talk_ to anyone anymore. Is there something wrong with me, or is this just a fact of life? As it was, I showed up almost five minutes late to Rachel's, rather shaky from an over consumption of caffeine, and at the same time tired with part of me quite ready to call it a day. Spring ... Rachel and I headed to Hama in Venice for sushi, tempura, sake, and conversation. Fifteen minutes after we were seated, the bad vibes began leaving my system, to be replaced by a warm feeling of contentment and an enjoyable evening with a new friend. Dinner finished, Hama got loud, so we cruised back to Santa Monica in search of a quieter venue in which to finish out the evening. I had vaguely remembered the piano bar at Bob Burns, an anachronism on the corner of 2nd and Wilshire, just around the corner from the touristy 3rd Street Promenade. It's an old-school steak and potatoes place with the ambiance of a mountaintop hunting lodge, with dark lighting, lots of wood beams, red plaid carpeting, and faux-leather booths. The lounge is nearly as big as the restaurant, the centerpiece being a grand piano with a bar wrapped around it. We settled at the piano and ordered drinks, a marguerita for Rachel, some vodka for me. Howlett Smith sat down at the piano and a very tall bassist with a very tall bass joined him for a jazz opener. Then Mr. Smith started singing a bunch of his funny original music, including "Chitlins in the White House" and "An Ugly Girl Told Me No," both of which had the audience of ten howling. It was incredible entertainment for the price of two drinks. We'll probably be back. We left Bob Burns at around 11, I dropped Rachel off, and proceeded up a refreshingly empty Pacific Coast Highway to Malibu. It was nice getting home in less than fifteen minutes. All in all, an incredibly fun evening that demands repeating. Off to sleep now, naked under a sheet, no down comforter ... I have no desire to wake up to summer sweating again.
In the forum: 11 july 1999: : didn't write 11 july 1998: fill me up : I've met a lot of new people over the past few months ... a few could have easily "evolved" into some kind of "relationship," be it a four-week fuck-fest or something more. And that most certainly would have alleviated this "emptiness" I'm talking about. And yet, feeling how I did about these people, my conscience wouldn't let me go any farther than the pursuit of a basic friendship.
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