Walking across the street in the rain, there’s someone in front of me with a spiderman brand popsicle, the blue eyes two wan gum-balls that look like they were manufactured years before I was born. “Where did he get that?”, I wonder, searching my mind for available corner stores and coming up with nothing. Downtown east side, one block from the epicenter, I try to imagine what it tastes like as I step over a gray man slumped wetly on the sidewalk, dead aside from his lonely muttering.
I have two job interviews today, one with an e-music company I’ve done temp work with, one with Kokoro Dance, a butoh group I deeply admire. I’m looking forward to both of them, as they present vastly different challenges, and can’t help hoping I do well at both. It would be the greatest of blessings to have even one regular job. Living freelance has been hurting, especially considering how much flaky management I’ve had to deal with. I want it to be over with. I’d like a desk again, please and thank you.
In more good news, That Mike called from somewhere between Chicago and Madison yesterday, (on tour with Buckethead again), sounding so sorry he forgot my birthday that the earth might swallow him whole. It blows my mind sometimes, how nice he is. There’s a depth to his sincerity far past anything I can match these days. It seems to go one for miles, far past any horizon, glad for the world without end.
I still need to call him back, actually, him and Adam both, but for that I need a calling card, and for that I need to find out what in sam hill is going on with my bank. I wired money to someone in Alberta, only to find out that it was immediately rescinded, and the ATM wouldn’t let me take out all of my rent. Bah. Trouble. Not everything this weekend was good news. Almost, but not quite.
