RandomCha

The phone remains silent. There’s a big expanse of nothing tonight. I simultaneously treasure it and loathe it.

Andy made dinner for us tonight. Chicken breasts sauteed in garlic olive oil with oregano and mushrooms, wild rice with petite peas, and glazed carrots. Sooooo good. I bought most of the ingredients the other night when I went grocery shopping but it was Andy who volunteered to make dinner. We sat on the back porch as we had dinner. It was still light but the sun had gone down behind the rooftops and there was a breeze. It was wonderful.

Andy knows how unpleasant these last few weeks of work are and he was sweet to make dinner. He knows how desperately I do not want to go the mandatory store meeting tonight, when everything that will be discussed will probably cause me to internally fume. I only hope I can keep my mouth shut and try to be detached. I need to observe and take notice of what’s said. There will be details to put in the letter I’m thinking of writing Emily to let her know exactly part of why I gave my notice.

And Andy has stress of his own; the last week at work has been demoralizing for him too. Their new manager is making all these changes (mostly for the sake of change) and expecting all the changes to be implemented by the rest of the staff, who are overworked and behind with things already.

Why can’t life be more fun; why can’t work be more fun? We shouldn’t complain. We have it awfully good compared to others. We can have a nice dinner and a glass of Coke if we want. We can buy a CD of Debussy if we feel like it. But there should always be a striving for purity, for contentment and wholeness; complacency and apathy are terrible. So despite my uncertainty about the future, about what will happen after the 27th and I’m no longer working at the coffeehouse, this step is a good one. I’m doing what I can to find something else and that’s all I need to be doing right now. Life can be good without having to be fun 24/7.

I’m just really content reading the David Toop book “Ocean of Sound.” I’m almost finished with it. It’s the best book about music that I’ve read since the Alyn Shipton jazz book. I’m excited about the new Julee Cruise album which is released on Tuesday. It’s called “The Art of Being A Girl.”

David David Katzman gave me some great feedback on my manuscript. He spotted a lot of typos that slipped by me. Plus I think he genuinely enjoyed reading it, which is awesome.

Reckless Records now has 20 copies of “bowwow” to stock between their two Chicago stores. I hope this generates even more of a local audience.

Next Thursday I turn 27; wow.

I gave my notice at work today. My last day will be the 27th. I felt strangely relieved after it was over, despite not having anything else lined up. I’m not worried about it. Yet, anyway. I pulled Dawn in the office, said what I had to say, and then got the hell out of there. To avoid the nuclear fallout.

Anyone know of a job that’s non-retail, at least $11/hr., not more than 40 hrs. a week, and interesting?

So peaceful, calm, the air so dry. I can’t concentrate. I can’t seem to muster up the motivation to interact with anyone tonight. I’m not articulate enough for any of that. Listening to my “Wind In The Trees” recording now. It’s all in harmony without words.

All right … you can call me cheesy but I really happen to like the album “Nat King Cole Sings/George Shearing Plays.” I just made a copy of the CD I checked out from the library.

If I ever try to play it at the coffeehouse though someone will probably kill me. I think the main reason I daydream about owning a cafe or a bar is that if I owned one then I’d get to play whatever music I wanted all the time. I’ve even daydreamed about being a DJ. But let’s face it, I’m not commercial enough for that and a lot of the music I play has nothing to do with dancing.

No plans for tonight. Where has this afternoon gone? The Paul Bowles stories that I’m reading are just excellent. I wish my imagination was more fertile. It’s been sort of a where-am-I kind of day. Just as I begin to enjoy my day off the realization hits me that it’s back to work in the morning at 5.30 am. I wonder what Andy wants to do tonight. Lately I’ve been feeling some friction, the constant question of “how will we spend THIS evening?” I should just agree to whatever he wants to do. I don’t think I have a preference today.

I was sitting along in the living room watching “Diamonds Are Forever” on TV when out of nowhere I was seized by a very vivid mood, a certain mental impression. I turned off the TV and wrote three pages of something just now while listening to part of the “Lost Highway” soundtrack. I was feeling nostalgic about when I was living in L.A. That date I had with John C. when we drove up to the Griffith Park Observatory at night to see the view of the city. I’d been in town maybe two or three weeks. We kissed that night, but I only saw him three times the whole period I was living there.

It’s all pretty ironic, when I start daydreaming about that time in my life; I was unhappy a lot of the time I was there. But I remember several moments clearer than crystal, experiencing new things in a different city, remembering and recording. I almost never think about when we were working on the film. I guess all that work blurs together for me. I seem to remember the lunch breaks we took more clearly than the actual work. And my time off, my free days. Walking down La Brea on really hot days, high noon, no one else on the sidewalk but me for very long stretches. Walking to Stir Crazy on Melrose for a cup of coffee to sip while I sat there reading or writing something.

Somehow L.A. is a magicial place when you’re only visiting, when you’re there for a certain period of time all the while knowing that you’ll leave. It’s when you try living there that things go sour. I wonder if Bunuel felt that way when he was there. I still think about that.

I have three days off from work stretching ahead of me. And I have a small list of things I want to accomplish in that time. If I do all the things on my list, I’ll feel good about myself later on.

It’s still so humid, so sticky, even at night. It cools down at night in L.A.

It’s been quiet and cool for a few days & i’m loving it. Perfect weather to listen to Ben Webster. I hear that the warmest front of the summer is sliding eastward across the country and will be here early next week. Yesterday it was 128 degrees in Death Valley. It’s nice to enjoy a bit of peace before things get absurd and it’s difficult to think again.

Of course, now that I CAN think there’s nothing much on my mind. I’d love to write something right now, a new story or a poem or something, but I can’t think of anything I want to say. I’m not feeling any extreme emotions or profound insights. Recently I’ve noticed I’m in a definite ‘input’ mode: listening to tons of music, watching movies voraciously, surfing the net for far too long at one time. Just absorbing things, or at least allowing things to pass me by while I watch. I guess if I have nothing creatively to say at the moment then I shouldn’t force myself to try to say something. Otherwise it’s just talking to hear the sound of my voice.

On Monday Andy will start his new job as head of fiction at the bookstore, leaving the world of the newsstand & bargain books behind. The day he found out he was both astonished and overjoyed. I hope he likes it. It means that he won’t have a set schedule anymore; just like me, his hours and shifts will change from week to week. Asd I told him, I think that’s a good thing. Shake things up a bit.

The new Morcheeba album is damn good. It falls somewhere in between their first and second albums, stylistically, and that’s a great place to be. “Slow Down” is my new favorite song-of-the-moment. So hypnotic. I also bought “Ole Coltrane” and it’s beautiful too. Very dense, heavy stuff; a lot to absorb there. And yet somehow very fluid, almost casual-sounding.

Just finished reading “My Last Martini” by Barry Gifford. A very nice collection, but the pieces are so succinct that it left me feeling kind of unsatisfied. Still hungry. He can be really funny. The way the gets inside a character when he writes in the first person, inhabiting their soul, it’s flawless. Not a false note. Maybe I should mosey on over the library and check out something else.

I wonder what we’ll end up doing tonight. Living with someone, there can be the burden of having to entertain yourself every night of the week. Living alone you can goof off and it’s no big deal; you’re wasting no one’s time but your own.

Yesterday at Tower I bought “Talking Book” by Stevie Wonder and “The origianl Ellington Suite” by Chico Hamilton. The second CD is really exciting. I’m glad to have something by him finally. It’s just very frustrating that the “Sweet Smell of Success” soundtrack isn’t on CD! You’d think that becuase of the musical they’d’ve put it out. But no. Just copies of the musical everywhere.

Also got a new CD tower. This one holds 480! I better not run out of space anytime soon. Andy made a bet with me that I’d go a year until I ran out of space.

“Minority Report” was sharp, very enjoyable. Really interesting color palate, sort of like “Blade Runner” at high noon as seen through two layers of smog. Pretty good script. The dialogue was a bit overripe sometimes and, of course, the ending wasn’t satisfying. But this IS Spielberg after all. Tom Cruise was tolerable.

Today I work at noon. Whenever I go to work late in the day like that I’m never quite sure what to do with myself in the morning. I’m jazzed up on coffee though. It’s not as hot today, which we’re all grateful for I’m sure.

The heat goes on. Born under punches.

It’s nice having today off; it’s like having a real holiday like everyone else. That’s independence. Mild hangover. Dehydrated more than anything else. The heat and the 4 margaritas I had last night. It was such a fun party though. Cleanup was suprisingly easy. Luckily, in this heat. Without the a/c in the bedroom, we’d have killed someone by now.

Steven & Andy & I are going to see “Minority Report” this afternoon. A nice cool theatre. And then we’re taking a trip to Tower afterwards, maybe some pizza. Because we’ve all decided that we really need more CDs. Heheh.

I don’t work tomorrow until noon. It hardly seems like I have 39.5 hours on the schedule for the week. It’s so humid in here that the keys on the keyboard are sticking a bit.

Talked to Mom and Dad on the phone. They’re still in Colorado. Flying back to Iowa tomorrow. Mom said that she was practically having to drag Dad back, kicking and screaming. Neither of them wants to go back. They wished that everything was already taken care of and that they could just stay in Colorado, that the move was over and the house in Iowa was sold and everything. I’m looking forward to visiting Colorado again once they’ve moved. I think Mikey & I will be less bitter towards them for moving to Iowa in the first place, selling our childhood home. Mom said they bought a new Jeep. Just like that! It’s reddish-orange. Now they’ve got 2 cars again. Mikey is back in Houston at the moment I guess. I ought to try calling him tonight. It’s been awhile since we talked. Must be REALLY brutal there.

I have today off but i’m worried that with all the stuff I want to do today the whole day will just vanish without any enjoyment. I’m taking part in a reading tonight at Uncommon Grounds. Today is Jessi’s birthday but I don’t know what to get her. I’m thinking I’ll just stop by the theatre today and say hi rather than try to go to the gathering she’s having at that bar tonight. Plus I want to call the Film Center and spend some time browsing for jobs. I’m just going to try to relax. I’ve already had enough coffee for now.