DIARY
Again at work…
Last weekend was interesting and eventful, so I should write about it while I’m thinking about it.
On Friday, when I took the bus to the Snail on 55th to meet some of my fellow scav hunt judges to have a scav hunt meeting, I didn’t get much to eat because I’d flet nausious all day, having the prior night contemplated the possibility of dying due to food poisoning. That, and I’d forgotten that the hunt would cover the bill.
Those last two sentences were composed to leave you dazzled and confused.
You should eat at the Snail and enjoy it.
When I first arrived, I saw Kimmy, with whom I went to New York City, and stayed in Queens Village by day, while by night I wandered across Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Manhattan (I never made it to Staten Island… *sigh*). He bought me Beef Tripe in Chinatown. We exchanged pleasantries. Later, the other judges and I were concerned that we might be overheard in the public setting. This is what we talked about.
From there I walked with Christian to the U of C’s Mardi Gras party. We bitched about the University’s policy of holding their big Mardi Gras party on a day that is often neither Fat nor Tuesday, specifically the first Friday of Lent. That is, the angst and disaffection that results from wandering past huge steaming trays of chicken gumbo in celebration of a specifically Catholic holiday on a day when Catholics are not allowed to eat things like delicious chicken gumbo. It’s maddening! This year, however, the MGP fell on the Friday prior to Lent, so all was well. I somehow stumbled onto a student wristband, which enabled me to get free beer, (don’t worry, I paid for it to the tune of $120,000 something… along with my parents, the government, and the Bank of America). I met Jessica, and we had our Tarot cards read. Her reading was unequivocally joyful. Mine was supernaturally inaccurate, but the fortuneteller was writing an autobiography about her experiences during the 60s, and she was very friendly, and we talked for minutes about that. Afterwards, I caved, and got some chicken and chitlins. And pop. We returned to the Tarot readers, and talked in the line with Laura and Meridith and Emily and Matt. Then we left.
Soon after, all the power blew.
That was Friday.
I woke up at around noon, or one, and longed around for too long.
Then Jess and watched Wayne’s World with Evan and Sarah. Then we went for egg-lemon soup at the Salonica with Laura. At seven, Jess and I walked to the Reynold’s Club to see Eric Bogosian’s Suburbia, directed by my friend Caitlin, and featuring my friend Sarah as the part-owner of a 7-11. It was okay. The good moments were funny and aggravating and sparkling. The bad moments were… throughout. I think I has some basic problems with the honesty of the production, which seemed to permeate casting, script, direction and interpretation. And audience. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so much white, middle-class guilt in one room. Passive-aggressive WMCG. Or maybe I’m just PMSing. Whatever. Caitlin did a fine job directing. All of the actors demonstrated talent and skill. All seemed to enjoy themselves onstage. They were invested. And Sarah was, I’m happy to say, a high point.
After that, I met in the coffee shop with my friend Colin (see his picture at the top of my blog this month), and we talked about Scavhunt and the Nocturnal. And I left, then, and went to a party at my old apartment, honoring Occidental Steve, a fellow judge. He’s turned 22. I drank a lot of good liquor, including a Polish apple-spice martini. Not a martini at all, actually, but very Polish and very good. And rapped with Ben, another judge, very poorly, I suppose. I got home at 1:30, and Jess followed an hour later.
That was Saturday.
I woke up at around ten, and left to do some reading before church. I was going to read at the Medici Bakery over coffee, but I met Tom, my godfather, and he invited me to read at the peace and quiet of his own place. He asked my plans. I told him I’d be going to Montclare to do research for my other novel, Euphemism. He asked if we could go explore a neighborhood together the next week. I accepted his offer, and this Saturday, we’re researching in Hermona and Kelvyn Park. Followed by church. Followed by a seat-of-my-pants tour of Montclare (I had four-and-a-half hours, over three of which was spent on public transit, getting to and from the place). And then four hours of roleplaying, in which we battled one large scorpion and two praying-manti.
That was Sunday.