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21 august 2000
seven days seem so long Too much life "lived," so to speak ... when I don't write for a long time, I feel like I've cheated myself of memories. And I have, but I'll try and remember a snippet of every day since... Monday I called Verizon, formerly known as GTE, to inquire about the status of my home phone line, which hasn't been working since July 22. I'd just been out of town and too busy to worry about it -- and I'd been using my cell phone a bit too much. "Hmm ... your line seems just fine ... May I call you Charles?" asked the Verizon lady. "May I call you incompetent?" I nearly replied. About an hour later, she figured out that my phone _had_ indeed been disconnected for nearly a month. "OK, we'll have to credit you for that, and I've already contacted our DSL people to credit your internet account as well." I didn't bother mentioning that the DSL had been working just fine... Tuesday I spent the morning coding at the current company, and late afternoon in meetings at my new company, and later across the street at the Dume Room. Starting to feel overwhelmed, realizing I'm making another "huge" change in my life, and noticing that the full moon always seems to find me destructively introspective. Wednesday We had two band practices to prepare for Saturday's gig, and we hadn't played together since July 19th. The rehearsal was stilted, to say the least. Three hours of trying to get our groove back. Another hour of drinking and potsmoking to erase the negative vibe imparted by badly played music. Thursday Met Wamba at the Cinema Bar before band practice. Him being a former submariner in the Navy, we talked about the Russian sub thing. He said it disgusted him, but there was nothing anyone could do. It was obviously a torpedo accident, he said, but the crew could have been rescued if the Russians had immediately accepted help from other world powers. But it was a new submarine, and they couldn't afford to let anyone else see the technology. He told me that when he was on a sub, the crew were instructed that if there was ever a rescue attempt from anybody but the US Navy, the ship was to be destroyed by a designated (and suicidal) crewman. I thought that today, in "peaceful times," the sanctity of human life would outweigh the need to protect certain military secrets. But then, do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of an underwater tin can? I know not what I'm saying here. Band practice was better. The groove was back, and we left with a bit more confidence than the night before. Friday An email from my ex informed me that she's planning on moving in with her new squeeze. Five seconds after the email came in, half of Santa Monica lost power. I went next door to Vito and had two vodka collins cocktails in candlelight. I called Don from the bar and had him reactivate my match.com account. I wonder how one person can still have so much power over my emotions. match.com: do I want to date people because I want to date people, or do I want to date people because I want to shove it back in her face? At this point, it's probably the latter. Bad, bad, bad. If the full moon makes me destructively introspective, its waning turns me downright stressed. In a fit of "I must improve my life," I tore my bedroom apart and started rearranging. It's still not back together. A couple of friends came by to pick up the dresser that won't fit in my room. As soon as we loaded it up, I got the five-foot stuffed animal off my bed and threw it in the closet. "This is your new home. Get used to it." Yes, I talk to stuffed animals. We went out for drinks at Granita. I started to relax, but hardly enough. Back at home, I couldn't fall asleep. Was it because I no longer had a warm, fuzzy, yet inanimate and annoying bedmate? I stared at the closet door all night. Saturday Slept late and went shopping. Bought nothing but an orange bandanna to wear at the gig. By 6pm we were finished soundchecking. Two hours to kill before the show. I was incredibly relaxed, considering our last two shows had us finishing soundcheck less than five minutes before showtime. We went on at 8 sharp to an enthusiastic crowd of about sixty people, 36 of whom actually paid to get in. It was like playing in a very large living room with appreciative friends. A nice vibe, but perhaps a little too relaxed. Rachel showed up with her sister and some friends. I tried to get them to play the portable keyboard when I wandered onto the dance floor during Selva's tune, but they refused. After the gig, Rachel asked me to teach her to sing -- I was kinda stumped, because I didn't know that I knew how to sing. I said I'd try, and I will. We should be getting together later this week for dinner and conversation in a room where we might actually be able to hear ourselves think. Yeah, the gig was loud, _way_ loud. Next gig's at the Roxy, a week from Wednesday. We're gonna have to cram for that one too. Sunday I cruised up to county-line to meet Jen and her parents at Neptune's Net, a biker-friendly seafood shack on the beach. We had crab, oysters, clams, shrimp -- I dunno, it seemed whatever was swimming in their tank, we just said "yeah, steam us up one of those." Delicious. Relaxing. And my cell phone didn't work up there, so I was happily out-of-touch with reality for a while. And then I got home. And I had to work -- one more week at this company to finish the project I started in New York. I got a lot done last night, and even more this morning. Monday - Today Brutus called me this morning with news that my G4 Cube had arrived. A week early. "Dude, it's beautiful," he said. So I'm gonna leave here a little early today to go up and see it. A week from now, I'll be in my new office, with my new job, and my new computer, and my same old self. I wonder what it all means. (note: since my digital camera has been fried, all pictures are from two years ago, this date) 21 august 1999: : didn't write 21 august 1998: strange new vibe : I smell like Simon LeBon. It's that soap, y'know. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
