fuck your wedding pt. 2

NOt wasted wasted, stinking drunk. But intoxicated.   That's fair I think.

I drank alone.  In my lviing room.  Not even my roommates ketp me company.  Everyone I would have liked tospedn the evning with was indisposed, unavailable, out of town, or some combination thereof.  Who says you don't need oxford commas?

My dad called me today.  This is remarkable in and of itself.  My dad has called me a hnadful of times since I left for college.  BUt my sister called me first to warn me about my dad calling.  Which has also happened only a few times.

My father is remarrying.

After being divorced for not quite a decade.  And having a live-in girlfriend for most of that time.

This is upsetting.  I think it seals the coffin on the family I once had.  It is the final nail.  Sunk hard on the lid.  There was never any hope of resuceitation but it does hurt throw it in a hole and start pouring dirt on it.

I tihnk my father cheated on my mother.  I have no proof.  And this was never discussed but I remember a number of late evening phone calls where my sister and i were sushed away, my mother in tears, my father not around.  And the arguments during that timeintensified.

MY father tried briefly to compare his girlfirend ot my mother.  This was so outrageous I nearly snapped.  It was one sentence in a 7 minute conversation but it was everything tome.  The whole thing I felt wasabsurd.  I suppose, I imagined my father might end up like his father.  With a live-in girlfreind for the rest ofhis life.  Times cahnge I guess. My father tried to re-assure me by promising my sister and i everything in his will.  This was a nice gesture but not my primary concern.

So I will attend a wedding, against my better judgement, this winter.

For fuck's sake.  Are you kidding me?

well for fuck's sake

Is a great turn of phrase.  It's a pity we don't use it more.

Had a show.  Had drink.  Then a few more.  

I love these people.  I really do.  I don't know that I could ever leave them.  That's just how I feel.  I've planted too many roots not in this town but in these friends.  These dear friends of mine.

Fuck I love you people.  Imagine I had wrote a comma after the firs tword in that sentence.

I really do though.  I really do.

Nothing Great Comes Over the Counter

Tonight.  Oh, tonight I starved.  But were nowhere to be found.  You were far away.  Far away breaking my heart with your distance.  I giant lever pushed only milmeters to crack me in two.

So I stared out the bar window.  And I looked at girl passing by until she looked at me.  She looked at me and giggled and thrilled then looked back but I had alredy looked away.  I wondered if I had met her gaze again if she would have come in to meet me.  

Then later I walked home.  Through the busy areas.  Looking for that again.

I cut through the park and one of a pair of girls approached me.  We were all in the same state.  Intoxicated.  Walking.  Getting on (as best we could, or know how).  She stopped me, wlaked staraight up to me and said, "We need a hug?"

"All three of us?"

She looks back at her friend, "Yes."

We hug.  We embrace for a moment and I suddenly have a feeling that our whole is greater than the sum of our parts.  I feel like our humanity has comforted us more than anything else.

"Don't worry girls," I say, "Humanity is here."  I give both of their backs a little rub, we thank one another, and carry on.  As we all must do.

Two girls and a boy passed by after the park.  The third wheel girl, obviously intoxicated, said loudly "I'm a professional penis inspector.   But there's plenty of those [around here]."  I wanted to say (I almost said it).  "Curious, I have a penis.  And I'm certain it needs inspecting."  What would she have done?

I can only hope.

It is a struggle always.  It will no doubt be one.  We are lucky to have outlets.

The clock at the grocery is off by two hours.  or two ours I almost wrote.  This is disconcerting.

That ought to be remedied.

I could use a remedy.

What I require they do not seel over the counter.

What am I coming to? fucking prepositions.

I am the most unemployed and I paid for the most drinks tonight.

That seams unfair somehow.

Oh well.

C'est la vie as the French are always saying.

I like to anticipate that these dfrinks are coming back to me.  That one day they will figuratively and litaerlly pour in.  (fucking sentences ending in prepopisitons.)

I'm in love.  I'm in love a tousand times.  No one can possibly underastand that I think.  Or maybe I;'m just stupid and selfish and everyone knows what i mean.  I'm just bulshitting to make believe I'm the only one.

My girlfirend loves sour cream.  and i love er for it.  I will tomorrowm make fo rher corn beef and cabbage.  I ope it tuyrns out well.  typing

is so hard these days.

Fuck te old masters.  To glorify tem is masturbation.  I canhardly keep my eyes open.  Maybe I should rub one out and fall asleep.  i think I may fall asleep firwst.

bleh.

What am I coming to?  fucking prepositions.

I could use some elp-.  If someonje has help.  I'm not against it.

love ytou.

Another Chapter Closes

Sober (Hung-Over) Note: This particular entry was made last night sometmie between 10:20 and 11:30 pm without internet service. It was commissioned for This Improvised Life an improvised satire of This American Life. It will be performed live at the Historic Univeristy Theater, 5510 University Way, Seattle, WA on Friday, February 13th, 2009 at 8:00 pm (produced by Wing-It Porductions).

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Oh dear. I was pleasant a few moments ago, I thinik I have crossed the line into intoxicated. Pull you over intoxicated. This does not bode well for the morning.

I wonder, do chapeters ever really close? They do, I mean, but chapters slose but others start. Crystalis, the excellent video game for the Nintendo Entgertainment System beigns with “The end is really just a beginning in disguise.” I think this is true. Even if it’s 8 bit.

My ghead feels funny.

I feel a bit floaty.

A director dear to my heart said once on our closing night "The thing about theatre is, it is finite. We know the end date from the beginning. We open, we close. This is the worst and the best part." I'm paraphrasing of course. I'm also drinking scotch. Not especailyl great scotch but scotch.

I wonder what people do when they're closing night, when tey're chapter closes what do people do. People who do not have something finite. Nothing is forever but no one expects to be fired. First it was an economic slump, than recession, now they're throwing out the word depression. I was luckily, I knew it was a recession beofre anyone was willing to say the word. And I got out of my shitty, tanking job and got another before everything started to affect my commission. More so. But now I have debt. Which sucks. Boo to debt.

David Letterman is on and I dont' care for him.

I would very much like to be an actor wo gets paid to tour talk shows and talk abotu my most recent projects. Maybe that thought is a bit lofty.

Sorrry I digress.

Chapters closing. It's so hard to consider them. No one wants to meet the end. We only think of the transition into the new. So let us not think of this as an end. Let us tink of it as a beginning in disguise. These stories we tell, these stories we experience, live on. Live on in memory and in hearts and in heads. when our stories close this evning, the lights will dim and you will exit the theater but you will take them with you. Please take them with you. Love them.; Cherish them. Excuse the rambling, and please accept my warm embrace. My thank you . My apprecaition. For the times we had but more importantly fo rthe times still to come.

See you then.

Freedom

Sober (Hung-Over) Note: This entry was commissioned for This Improvised Life an improvised satire of This American Life. It will be performed live at the Historic Univeristy Theater, 5510 University Way, Seattle, WA on Thursday, February 12th, 2009 at 8:00 pm (produced by Wing-It Porductions).

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I am not free. I'm a trying to be. But I am not.

First of all locked in by too much beer. And that sucks. I mean I could talk about Bush or healt care or thhe arts or whatever but let s be fair. I lock myself up. Locked up by decorum and tact and desire. desire locks you up. In a different way. Tose wo embrace desire are not plagues by this but I am because when the perfecet moment comes I know, and I know just wat to say but I never say it. I am not plagued by parking lot wit. I haver it at my disposal my issue is saying it. One of tese days.

I'm broigt back to the red line.

That is unncessary.

I won't have it.

My life is shambles. It is constant shambles. The onl;y way to have freedom is to move. To new people to new places to where nobody bknows anything. I ddi it once. I did it a couple times. It's very hard. And lonely. Oh so lonely. And you never end up just like you were. Maybe tat's the blessing. Maybe that's the curse.

My back hurts. and my front is flabby. Dude tat sucks. What one really needs is comfortability. Of self. Of sitaution. of cocupation. of income. these are all so difficult, ow does one accomodate?

I don't know. I wish I did but I really don't.

there's a picture of me. a picture of me and my dad in disney land. And we're wearing Indaina Jones hats ( we each got one) standing in the line for some ride. And I think about that time. That moment. MY mom and dad divorced just one year later. what was my dad thinking of when e put is arm around me? Was he thinking of my family? Of my mom? Of our vacaation? Of his new girlfriend? Of ths vacations tey might take? We smile so hard in that picture. it looks honest. Father and son. at disneyland. my first time. my last time maybe. Behind us I tyink is robinson caruso. perhaps tat is freedom.

Maybe the only way to freedom is to cut ties with everything you lareday know.

I can't cut ties with my loves. My girl, my passions, improv, theatre, all the rest. It'ws too hard it hurts to mcuh. To bid adieu. But I am a rteck. tieds to too many things. I had freedom than I strived fo rtihgngs to tie me down. Now I am tied down. I look for freedom.

my head hurts I think. It may be owrse in the mornign.

The Webs We Weave

Sober (Hung-Over) Note: This particular entry was made last night without internet service and commissioned for This Improvised Life an improvised satire of This American Life. It will be performed live at the Historic Univeristy Theater, 5510 University Way, Seattle, WA on Friday, January 23rd, 2009 at 8:00 pm (produced by Wing-It Porductions).

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Hello. Hallo. And suddenly without warning I’m inclined to apologise.

1) For being drunk.
2) For- my stomach is moving.
3) For I had to take the cap to the Scandisk out of mouth. (I need to remember and this is the only way I will carry I with me.)

I just deleted a spelling mistake. 2 actaully. Well really 3 but now they will be left in. (For the most part) What do you want from me?

So I’m quite certain I weave an aura of coolness which I am really not entitled to. I’m neither smart nor smooth. I’m nothing special in your face. Asking- beggin if I can hang out.

I would love love love to be part of whoyoou are. Whoever you are. But I have very little too offer. I though when I was young It would be garet to be a jcak of all trades. I realize now that a jack of all trade specializes in nothing. I thought if I could do everything a little bit, “how great would that be?” it turns out not so great at all. And now Iam mired in a educational pit. I wold love to study chemistry. Or trigonometry. Or geometry. Or there still geometers? Or trigonometeurs? I wonder if there are even still Geographers? Where do the hard sciences go before they meld into philosphpy? String theory (seems to me (on my most basic readings of the subject)) a wild phil\osphy of matter. I would love to help though. I feel I have quite an imagination (Although it is always stuck in anarchinsism and archaism). What will I do? Oh what will I do?

I have an offer. I have an offer and I hope it settles my April and may. God I would love it. I already knmow. IN these turbulent times my life remains mostly the same.

I need to go to bed. Because she’ lying there. And I love her. And she breaks my heart when she sleeps. Worse than Banjo and accordian in minor. She has power I cannot grasp. I love her though. And I will lay down next to her. I love you too though. And goodnight.