Peezy was wearing this great t-shirt: "Saving lives one cat at a time." And his shirt was giving me this great vision of him as a super hero, driving around the country in his DRAMA van, and saving lives, one cat at a time.
I feel less sick now than I did early this morning, but that's not saying much. I'd hoped to either be here tonight for Co-op Rocks, or else to swing by Chatham and see Mitch, Tait, and Noel's band, Moment. But the more I sit, the less energy I feel. What I do feel are the aches and pains and general feelings of congestedness. Eek.
Hmmm. Or maybe I will go to this darn show tonight, if only to spend an evening someplace other than here. Not that Quiet Storm is a bad place to be. Well, OK, I was thinking earlier today about that Halloween party at the Dafodil 11 Collective. That night, among other things, was the first time I'd seen Peezy in about two months (which I remember because of a particular topic of conversation that night ... I'd been geeked to see him because I'd wanted to tell him he was right about something, but that's a long, other story, and one that I can't post here). At any rate, that night I was telling Peezy that it had been two months since we'd seen each other, and he couldn't believe it was true, but it was. Now, of course, I see him just about every day, and I was trying to think how things had become so different. Well, there's the weather. And there's the situation with the people in my life ... the people I spent all of my time with in late spring and early fall (Monica, H.W.S.R.N.) are, in one way or another, gone now ... and of course I had a fucking job then. Several, actually. From The Pittsburgh Film Office to ESPN Dream Job to Texas Justice, I was a woman with a plan of action back then. Now I'm just a woman.
And, yes, I suspect that I knew all along it would come down to this. I felt it when Texas Justice went on hiatus in the beginning of November ... I was going back into Standby Mode, putting myself up on the shelf, like I tried to do over the summer of 1992 (before Bill Berry yanked me out of not only that funk, but Pittsburgh ... love ya, Bill ... you always did know what was best for me) ... and now, with about a month left before the hiatus is over, well, it seems silly to do anything about it now. It's mostly over. Show comes back next month. May as well suck it up and stick it out. I've made it this far, after all.
But really: is this any way to live?
I told Mark Yokim I wanted to work at Whole Foods. I applied at Tela Ropa, but they never called (and when last I saw Alisa, she said she wasn't working there anymore). The Co-op hasn't been hiring in a while (I saw they were hiring dish washers, but by the time I saw the ad, the deadline had long since passed). I swear I read the papers every fucking week, and every fucking week it's "be a bartender" or "be a stripper," and I repeatedly wonder aloud if alcoholism is the only growth industry in this fucking town.