The job market has changed since the last time I threw my hat into the ring of fire. I've had five interviews but I've only talked to one person face to face. I don't think I talked on the phone this much when I was in high school. I'm not a big phone guy either. I can chat with Marrianne or Linda but for the most part I don't like conversations to last over five minutes.
Posting a resume on line is a change since the last time I was job hunting. I think it's ironic. I take every precaution to protect my identity from theft, not that there's too much of anything really to steal. I do everything I can to protect who I am and then I put everything except naked pictures of myself on these job sites.
I'm convinced there are criminals and hard core drug addicts who have better credit scores than I do. I'm certain if they hacked into my personal information they might even use the money generated from cans returned to the supermarket to send me a note of sympathy. Maybe I shouldn't be too worried about my ID being taken. They may actually make my score better.
Between e-mail, faxing, on line applications, and 1.800 numbers you can look for a job from the comfort of your own home. This can lull you into a false sense of security. The reality check comes when the check doesn't come at the end of the week.
I like the free fall. I have no real back up plan. There is no million dollar purse to fall back on. Savings are a bit sparse. This is incentive not to fail. There can be no failure. I know, I know. I feel myself choking on the drama.
Honestly failure sucks unless we're talking about dating. When it comes to dating failure is where the fun kicks in. The two markets, while completely opposite, are incredibly similar. The market has definitely changed since I threw my hat into the ring of fire.
That Beautiful Black Man
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Monday, March 10, 2014
65 - American Dream 2.0
I dropped the last of my American Spirit into the cigarette stand right before I stepped into the Palace. I saw Paris's car parked outside so I thought I would stop in to see if she was having dinner with one of her sheep. She was sitting alone. Her white overcoat was right next to her. She was wearing a white turtleneck, jeans, and her white Eskimo boots. Her hair was up.
I usually avoided the Palace because it was right next to my former employer. I didn't think there would be an issue because it was after seven and I knew they were closed.
I ordered a plain chicken breast and a diet coke to be delivered to the table.
"May I offer you a drink," she said as I slid into the seat across from her. "Possibly a COCK-tail?!?" She exploded in laughter.
I just hung my head and shook it. "I see you talked to Linda."
"Oh yes, yes I did! Now that's funny. That's really funny. You were worried about being judged on Hotornot? Ha! Ha! Ha!" She continued to laugh out loud.
"That's what I love about you Paris, you are always a sympathetic ear." I rested my head in my hands.
"Stupid bastard. See, you should have let me take the pictures."
"The last time I saw you was at Kiki's house. Do you have a camera with you now? I know I don't. Our schedules never seem to click."
"You and your goddamn particulars. Why did you even do it in the first place?" She asked sipping on her beer.
"Did you order yet?" I asked her trying to change the subject.
"Of course I did. What do you want?"
"I have a chicken breast and a diet coke coming."
"You're still eating well. And you've kept the weight off, good boy."
"I have to stay in shape if I want the plan to come together." I said twisting from side to side.
"What plan is that? The online dating plan?" She snickered.
"No, no, no. That's more of an experiment to see if I've become a viable property. If I happen to hook up in the process then so be it. I actually put an add up on Yahoo just to see if I get any legitimate hits. Living around here sucks. Every personal I look at wants doughy white guys. That's not me."
"What do you mean?" She said feigning shock. "You're not white?!?"
"Kiss my ass." I said as the arrived with our food.
"So what's this big plan?" She asked digging into her Greek salad.
"I'm expanding on the American Dream. I've had the 'good' corporate job - that I hated, I own a European car, I've had some money in the bank, not so much anymore but I've had it. I've called my bosses morons, told them they can go stick that 'good' corporate job in their ass, and now I spend my days doing what I love. Yes, I'm in debt but who isn't?"
The light from the ceiling caught her eyes just right. For a second I was lost in their reflection. They glimmered like finely crafted Waterford Crystal.
"And what do you have to show for all of this?" She asked looking through the finely crafted crystal.
"More quality time with you, pretty girl!" I smiled like a fifteen year old school girl telling her friends she had been asked to the senior prom.
"Asshole."
"Seriously, it's the American Dream 2.0, kid. I'm trying to live on my own terms."
"Here's a toast," she said raising her beer into the light. "To the American Dream 2.0"
"Here, here!"
"Is that diet coke going to be strong enough? Might I suggest, perhaps, a COCK-tail?!?"
"Fuck you." I said while she laughed.
That Beautiful Black Man
I usually avoided the Palace because it was right next to my former employer. I didn't think there would be an issue because it was after seven and I knew they were closed.
I ordered a plain chicken breast and a diet coke to be delivered to the table.
"May I offer you a drink," she said as I slid into the seat across from her. "Possibly a COCK-tail?!?" She exploded in laughter.
I just hung my head and shook it. "I see you talked to Linda."
"Oh yes, yes I did! Now that's funny. That's really funny. You were worried about being judged on Hotornot? Ha! Ha! Ha!" She continued to laugh out loud.
"That's what I love about you Paris, you are always a sympathetic ear." I rested my head in my hands.
"Stupid bastard. See, you should have let me take the pictures."
"The last time I saw you was at Kiki's house. Do you have a camera with you now? I know I don't. Our schedules never seem to click."
"You and your goddamn particulars. Why did you even do it in the first place?" She asked sipping on her beer.
"Did you order yet?" I asked her trying to change the subject.
"Of course I did. What do you want?"
"I have a chicken breast and a diet coke coming."
"You're still eating well. And you've kept the weight off, good boy."
"I have to stay in shape if I want the plan to come together." I said twisting from side to side.
"What plan is that? The online dating plan?" She snickered.
"No, no, no. That's more of an experiment to see if I've become a viable property. If I happen to hook up in the process then so be it. I actually put an add up on Yahoo just to see if I get any legitimate hits. Living around here sucks. Every personal I look at wants doughy white guys. That's not me."
"What do you mean?" She said feigning shock. "You're not white?!?"
"Kiss my ass." I said as the arrived with our food.
"So what's this big plan?" She asked digging into her Greek salad.
"I'm expanding on the American Dream. I've had the 'good' corporate job - that I hated, I own a European car, I've had some money in the bank, not so much anymore but I've had it. I've called my bosses morons, told them they can go stick that 'good' corporate job in their ass, and now I spend my days doing what I love. Yes, I'm in debt but who isn't?"
The light from the ceiling caught her eyes just right. For a second I was lost in their reflection. They glimmered like finely crafted Waterford Crystal.
"And what do you have to show for all of this?" She asked looking through the finely crafted crystal.
"More quality time with you, pretty girl!" I smiled like a fifteen year old school girl telling her friends she had been asked to the senior prom.
"Asshole."
"Seriously, it's the American Dream 2.0, kid. I'm trying to live on my own terms."
"Here's a toast," she said raising her beer into the light. "To the American Dream 2.0"
"Here, here!"
"Is that diet coke going to be strong enough? Might I suggest, perhaps, a COCK-tail?!?"
"Fuck you." I said while she laughed.
That Beautiful Black Man
Friday, March 7, 2014
64 - Linda
Linda and I were phone buddies. We met at a bar called The Yard. She was a bartender and the owners sister. On occasion Paris and I met there and had some of our best conversations.
Due to unemployment my new schedule consisted of searching for jobs on line in the morning, bouncing through myspace in the afternoon, writing short stories in the evening, and either rehearsing at home or playing open mics at night.
I haven't been going to The Yard as much since I quit my job so Linda would usually catch me at home in the afternoon. We're friends on myspace. When one of your friends is on line a little blinker flashes near their picture, if they have one, to let you know they are bouncing around too.
"Hi," she said quietly through the phone. I could tell she just woke up. She worked the night shift and was usually up until the wee hours of the morning. Sleeping until afternoon was commonplace for her.
"Hey," I answered, still in my pajamas myself. "How was work last night?" I asked looking at my pending friend requests. If you want someone to be your friend you send him or her a message. You are then held in limbo until they decide if they want to be your friend or not. I was waiting to hear back from five people.
"Boring," she said yawning a long satisfying yawn. "This sucks. I've had a boatload of profile views but no new messages or friend requests."
"I know how you feel," I replied. "I have the same problem with this on line dating site. I get views but no requests." I stretched out a yawn myself. "I did get one but it was crazy."
"Online what?!?" She asked surprised. I proceeded to tell her about my friend finder site, the sausage that showed up in my mailbox, and Derich's 401 cock reference. She laughed so hard she snorted three times.
"You poor thing. That is so wrong. You have to send it to me!" She was still laughing to herself.
"I don't want to look at that fucking thing again let alone send it out to someone," I protested.
"Come on. You'll do it for me because I'm your best friend."
"OK! OK! I'll get it to you."
"Ha! Ha! I'm in his Top 8!" She said triumphantly. If you are in someones top 8 that means that of all of the friends someone has you are considered to be in the very top. This is cool unless the person you are friends with has less than eight friends.
"Who? Who?" I cooed like an owl.
"Do you remember Peter, the guy who used to hang out at The Yard last year?"
"That narrows it down. You know I have no memory for sausage," I said switching the phone from left ear to right ear.
"Unless it ends up in your friendly adult mailbox," she laughed.
"Fuck you."
"Anyway," she continued, "he was the guy who always liked my pink shirts. He used to invite me over to his house to watch reruns of Will & Grace on the Lifetime channel."
"Oh ... the gay guy!" I said as I realized that some of my pending requests wouldn't accept me as a friend.
"I don't know if he's gay..." she started.
"Come on! Will & Grace on the Lifetime channel?!? What does this guy look like?"
"Just go into my friend file and click the abraccuist." She said sounding annoyed.
"The abracadabrist? What is he a magician?"
"No you asshole, the ABRACCUIST! Just click on his file."
I went to her friend file and found the abraccuist. Sure enough she was in his Top 8.
"You didn't sleep with this guy did you," I asked looking at his strawberry blond afro. "Never mind. Will & Grace. Lifetime channel." I laughed.
"You love being an asshole don't you?"
"It's all in a days work," I said. "What the hell is an abraccuist?"
"I have no idea," she relied. "Maybe it's his new job title."
"Hang on I'll look it up." I opened another window on my computer and headed over to my favorite dictionary site. There was no definition given. I decided to Google it.
"Oh my."
"What? What?" she asked.
"Google it." I said laughing to myself.
"Talk about 401 cock!" She said laughing out loud. Under the term was a vivid description of sexual benefits offered to any woman willing to respond to his adult profile. What was funny was that his profile was five spaces above mine!
That Beautiful Black Man
Due to unemployment my new schedule consisted of searching for jobs on line in the morning, bouncing through myspace in the afternoon, writing short stories in the evening, and either rehearsing at home or playing open mics at night.
I haven't been going to The Yard as much since I quit my job so Linda would usually catch me at home in the afternoon. We're friends on myspace. When one of your friends is on line a little blinker flashes near their picture, if they have one, to let you know they are bouncing around too.
"Hi," she said quietly through the phone. I could tell she just woke up. She worked the night shift and was usually up until the wee hours of the morning. Sleeping until afternoon was commonplace for her.
"Hey," I answered, still in my pajamas myself. "How was work last night?" I asked looking at my pending friend requests. If you want someone to be your friend you send him or her a message. You are then held in limbo until they decide if they want to be your friend or not. I was waiting to hear back from five people.
"Boring," she said yawning a long satisfying yawn. "This sucks. I've had a boatload of profile views but no new messages or friend requests."
"I know how you feel," I replied. "I have the same problem with this on line dating site. I get views but no requests." I stretched out a yawn myself. "I did get one but it was crazy."
"Online what?!?" She asked surprised. I proceeded to tell her about my friend finder site, the sausage that showed up in my mailbox, and Derich's 401 cock reference. She laughed so hard she snorted three times.
"You poor thing. That is so wrong. You have to send it to me!" She was still laughing to herself.
"I don't want to look at that fucking thing again let alone send it out to someone," I protested.
"Come on. You'll do it for me because I'm your best friend."
"OK! OK! I'll get it to you."
"Ha! Ha! I'm in his Top 8!" She said triumphantly. If you are in someones top 8 that means that of all of the friends someone has you are considered to be in the very top. This is cool unless the person you are friends with has less than eight friends.
"Who? Who?" I cooed like an owl.
"Do you remember Peter, the guy who used to hang out at The Yard last year?"
"That narrows it down. You know I have no memory for sausage," I said switching the phone from left ear to right ear.
"Unless it ends up in your friendly adult mailbox," she laughed.
"Fuck you."
"Anyway," she continued, "he was the guy who always liked my pink shirts. He used to invite me over to his house to watch reruns of Will & Grace on the Lifetime channel."
"Oh ... the gay guy!" I said as I realized that some of my pending requests wouldn't accept me as a friend.
"I don't know if he's gay..." she started.
"Come on! Will & Grace on the Lifetime channel?!? What does this guy look like?"
"Just go into my friend file and click the abraccuist." She said sounding annoyed.
"The abracadabrist? What is he a magician?"
"No you asshole, the ABRACCUIST! Just click on his file."
I went to her friend file and found the abraccuist. Sure enough she was in his Top 8.
"You didn't sleep with this guy did you," I asked looking at his strawberry blond afro. "Never mind. Will & Grace. Lifetime channel." I laughed.
"You love being an asshole don't you?"
"It's all in a days work," I said. "What the hell is an abraccuist?"
"I have no idea," she relied. "Maybe it's his new job title."
"Hang on I'll look it up." I opened another window on my computer and headed over to my favorite dictionary site. There was no definition given. I decided to Google it.
"Oh my."
"What? What?" she asked.
"Google it." I said laughing to myself.
"Talk about 401 cock!" She said laughing out loud. Under the term was a vivid description of sexual benefits offered to any woman willing to respond to his adult profile. What was funny was that his profile was five spaces above mine!
That Beautiful Black Man
Thursday, March 6, 2014
63 - Another Night At The Door
Derich's beer almost shot out of his nose. "So this guy sent you a picture of his cock, and pictures of other black guys banging his wife?"
"Yes," I said taking a bite of my turkey club grinder. "How screwed up is that?"
"That has got to be the funniest thing I've heard all year. I think I might shit myself!"
"Thank you. I can't kill myself fast enough. You said this guy in your office always seems to have good luck, right?"
"Yeah! And he's a fucking geek. I'm not saying he has supermodels breaking down his front door but there are some really pretty women calling him. Who the hell did you go through anyway?"
Once again I did a quick scan of The Door to see if Connie was there. This was the first time I had been back to the bar since late summer. I wanted to ask our waitress if Connie still worked there but I thought better of it.
"I went to one of the friend finder sites. Since I've been unemployed I'm on line a lot. If I'm not looking for a job, I'm checking stocks, looking for apartments, and debating rolling out my 401k."
"You want to roll out your what? Your 401 cock?!?" He said covering his mouth with his napkin so food wouldn't shoot across the bar while he laughed out loud.
"Fuck you." I said shaking my head from side to side.
"Friend finder?!? Dude friend finder is the adult swinger site! You need to try something more reputable like eHarmony or even match.com. That's it match.com. That's who the geek goes through. You don't really want to do this shit anyway, do you?"
I pushed what was left of my food away and rested my elbows on the bar.
"You all set with this?" asked the bartender looking down at the scraps of bread and stray french fries dancing on the plate.
"Yeah. I'm fine," I said waving it away. "I'm all set." I took a good hard look in the mirror and pushed back to stretch. My back finally cracked a good loud crack.
"No," I said to Derich, "I have no real interest in an online hook up but I'm up for trying new shit. It's part of the rebirth, son. I want to expand the horizons. I want to find out what's out there."
"I've said it before," he said pushing his food away, "nothing is ever easy with you. Stop looking so hard for the meaning behind everything and just enjoy life."
"I'm not looking for the meaning as much as noticing it. These last few months I've been out of work I've had the chance to reflect on what I want, don't want, need, and don't need. It's been very cleansing." I relaxed my shoulders.
"This isn't the point where you tell me you've discovered God or Buddha or start chanting or some shit like that is it?"
"Fuck you, man. Nooo. This is going to be a good year for me." I said feeling for my American Spirits.
"I see what you mean." He pulled out his corporate card. "Don't worry. I got this."
"Thanks, man." I said taking the last swig of pineapple juice.
"Don't thank me. I'm just doing this so you don't have to roll out your 401 cock."
That Beautiful Black Man
"Yes," I said taking a bite of my turkey club grinder. "How screwed up is that?"
"That has got to be the funniest thing I've heard all year. I think I might shit myself!"
"Thank you. I can't kill myself fast enough. You said this guy in your office always seems to have good luck, right?"
"Yeah! And he's a fucking geek. I'm not saying he has supermodels breaking down his front door but there are some really pretty women calling him. Who the hell did you go through anyway?"
Once again I did a quick scan of The Door to see if Connie was there. This was the first time I had been back to the bar since late summer. I wanted to ask our waitress if Connie still worked there but I thought better of it.
"I went to one of the friend finder sites. Since I've been unemployed I'm on line a lot. If I'm not looking for a job, I'm checking stocks, looking for apartments, and debating rolling out my 401k."
"You want to roll out your what? Your 401 cock?!?" He said covering his mouth with his napkin so food wouldn't shoot across the bar while he laughed out loud.
"Fuck you." I said shaking my head from side to side.
"Friend finder?!? Dude friend finder is the adult swinger site! You need to try something more reputable like eHarmony or even match.com. That's it match.com. That's who the geek goes through. You don't really want to do this shit anyway, do you?"
I pushed what was left of my food away and rested my elbows on the bar.
"You all set with this?" asked the bartender looking down at the scraps of bread and stray french fries dancing on the plate.
"Yeah. I'm fine," I said waving it away. "I'm all set." I took a good hard look in the mirror and pushed back to stretch. My back finally cracked a good loud crack.
"No," I said to Derich, "I have no real interest in an online hook up but I'm up for trying new shit. It's part of the rebirth, son. I want to expand the horizons. I want to find out what's out there."
"I've said it before," he said pushing his food away, "nothing is ever easy with you. Stop looking so hard for the meaning behind everything and just enjoy life."
"I'm not looking for the meaning as much as noticing it. These last few months I've been out of work I've had the chance to reflect on what I want, don't want, need, and don't need. It's been very cleansing." I relaxed my shoulders.
"This isn't the point where you tell me you've discovered God or Buddha or start chanting or some shit like that is it?"
"Fuck you, man. Nooo. This is going to be a good year for me." I said feeling for my American Spirits.
"I see what you mean." He pulled out his corporate card. "Don't worry. I got this."
"Thanks, man." I said taking the last swig of pineapple juice.
"Don't thank me. I'm just doing this so you don't have to roll out your 401 cock."
That Beautiful Black Man
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
62 - Online Dating
I really have no faith in dating or bar hopping beyond the hook up, a strict level three or four guy. I have less faith in online dating. I'm getting to the point that, when I'm out, I tell women I meet that I'm divorced. It's been my experience that at 35 if I tell someone I'm still single and I have no kids they either think I'm gay or a child molester.
Paris and I never got together to get the pictures done. We can never do anything that requires planning. Life keeps getting in the way.
Because I promised myself I would try new things I decided I would still put a picture or two up on some on-line dating site. As most of you know I don't date. I'm not a big fan of the whole cat and mouse game. I have been the emotional tampon for far too many of my friends to believe that this can work out for too long.
I have come to the three month realization. I have found that after three months most relationships fall to shit. Now this wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that most people feel it necessary to try and salvage this sinking battleship.
I know personally that I am good for about three months. If we get out at the three month point you are left with the good memories and possibly wanting more. I'm not saying that I'm completely against long term relationships just I've seen so few actually work out that I'm jaded.
With that said I must let you know that I did secretly put a profile a while ago. I opted for one of the more obscure sites. I have never had a picture up because, well, I was scared. If people reject you based on how you look that's always not so good for the ego. Two years and no responses. There was no picture so there were no hard feelings.
I finally got up the nerve to put up a picture. It was just a shot I took in myself in my foyer, nothing special. I was wearing a tan turtleneck and no glasses with a burgundy background. It was very simple. I have a simple headline "I Won't Waste Your Time." I find that if you are honest from the beginning you make life much easier. I am interested in a woman between 5' and 5' 6", single or divorced, between 25 and 35, slender or athletic to voluptuous, intelligent, discrete, and attractive with a strong sense of self. I try to make sure it's clear what I'm looking for.
Two days after I put up the picture I got a response. It's amazing what a photo can do. I opened the message wondering if I was going to have pay the $20/month fee just to read it. I got to read it for free.
It was a picture of some white guys cock. Yeah you read it right. It was a picture of some white guys cock followed by two pictures of he and his wife with two other guys. The caption read "We Love Black Cock. Call us!"
For some strange reason I don't really have that much faith in online dating.
That Beautiful Black Man
Paris and I never got together to get the pictures done. We can never do anything that requires planning. Life keeps getting in the way.
Because I promised myself I would try new things I decided I would still put a picture or two up on some on-line dating site. As most of you know I don't date. I'm not a big fan of the whole cat and mouse game. I have been the emotional tampon for far too many of my friends to believe that this can work out for too long.
I have come to the three month realization. I have found that after three months most relationships fall to shit. Now this wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that most people feel it necessary to try and salvage this sinking battleship.
I know personally that I am good for about three months. If we get out at the three month point you are left with the good memories and possibly wanting more. I'm not saying that I'm completely against long term relationships just I've seen so few actually work out that I'm jaded.
With that said I must let you know that I did secretly put a profile a while ago. I opted for one of the more obscure sites. I have never had a picture up because, well, I was scared. If people reject you based on how you look that's always not so good for the ego. Two years and no responses. There was no picture so there were no hard feelings.
I finally got up the nerve to put up a picture. It was just a shot I took in myself in my foyer, nothing special. I was wearing a tan turtleneck and no glasses with a burgundy background. It was very simple. I have a simple headline "I Won't Waste Your Time." I find that if you are honest from the beginning you make life much easier. I am interested in a woman between 5' and 5' 6", single or divorced, between 25 and 35, slender or athletic to voluptuous, intelligent, discrete, and attractive with a strong sense of self. I try to make sure it's clear what I'm looking for.
Two days after I put up the picture I got a response. It's amazing what a photo can do. I opened the message wondering if I was going to have pay the $20/month fee just to read it. I got to read it for free.
It was a picture of some white guys cock. Yeah you read it right. It was a picture of some white guys cock followed by two pictures of he and his wife with two other guys. The caption read "We Love Black Cock. Call us!"
For some strange reason I don't really have that much faith in online dating.
That Beautiful Black Man
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
61 - Open Mic
Ah yes, playing live. I do it so rarely lately. I've been trying to build my confidence and chops by just jumping on stage at open mics where ever I can find them. One great place to experiment was Club Helsinki in Great Barrington. It is the coolest New York City club stashed in the Berkshires. I spent my last night with Connie in this little club.
This was my second night there since Connie. The first night was the night after I quit my job. The job was making me miserable. I had gained weight and if I didn't shave it bald I imagine I would have been going bald. You can only fight corporate America for so long.
I got there early (7:00 7:15ish) so I could sign up. If you sign in early you can get on stage early and disappear. The open mic starts at 8. I like to be there and gone by 8:30 I like this option just in case my set sucks.
Last night I signed up at 7:55 and wasn't scheduled for my ten minute set until 11. I would get to go on only if someone didn't show up. What a difference 40 minutes makes!
Depending on the night you go and who is running things there is a guitar, amp, drum set, and bass amp all on stage for you. I've been playing it solo. Scary sh*t, man. You are forced to know your game or walk. There are a few people who know it and it shows and there are those who should walk. I've had my nights were it's time to walk so I take nothing to chance.
The best act of the night was the first act. His name was Ben. The kid, maybe 13 or 14, was young and it was his first time playing out in public. His whole family was there. Some of the tunes were a bit rough but he stuck it out. He took the mistakes and just carried on. You could see that he was terrified but he just kept going. There was potential. There was that wide-eyed passion you can remember when you first did something you loved.
The second act was a spoken word. I'm convinced the name of his set was 'Would You Fuck Me?'. He seemed to have this obsession with one of his female friends in the audience. He talked about toe sucking and all forms of lingus. This was funny to me because you could see Ben's mother fighting the urge to cover his ears and run screaming.
The next few acts were pros. They were traveling and stopped in to try out new material. There was a novice metal band who sounded more like grinding metal farts and sandy toilet paper, a few more newbies, and a beautiful flute player.
My set was simple. I played three of the songs I should have been playing all this time I've been fighting corporate America.
"The girl I'm seeing and I had a bet," I started out with a lie as most artist do. "She found these old songs in my CD case. We rolled the dice. If I won I got free sex. If she won I had do an open mic. Ergo tonight's performance."
I got a few laughs. It's good to break the ice. No one needed to know that I've been to scared to perform since 1999. The rush was sweet and the songs felt good to play. They flowed like the first drag of a fresh American Spirit released into the wind. They seemed to say "We miss you. This is where you belong."
Ah yes, playing live.
That Beautiful Black Man
This was my second night there since Connie. The first night was the night after I quit my job. The job was making me miserable. I had gained weight and if I didn't shave it bald I imagine I would have been going bald. You can only fight corporate America for so long.
I got there early (7:00 7:15ish) so I could sign up. If you sign in early you can get on stage early and disappear. The open mic starts at 8. I like to be there and gone by 8:30 I like this option just in case my set sucks.
Last night I signed up at 7:55 and wasn't scheduled for my ten minute set until 11. I would get to go on only if someone didn't show up. What a difference 40 minutes makes!
Depending on the night you go and who is running things there is a guitar, amp, drum set, and bass amp all on stage for you. I've been playing it solo. Scary sh*t, man. You are forced to know your game or walk. There are a few people who know it and it shows and there are those who should walk. I've had my nights were it's time to walk so I take nothing to chance.
The best act of the night was the first act. His name was Ben. The kid, maybe 13 or 14, was young and it was his first time playing out in public. His whole family was there. Some of the tunes were a bit rough but he stuck it out. He took the mistakes and just carried on. You could see that he was terrified but he just kept going. There was potential. There was that wide-eyed passion you can remember when you first did something you loved.
The second act was a spoken word. I'm convinced the name of his set was 'Would You Fuck Me?'. He seemed to have this obsession with one of his female friends in the audience. He talked about toe sucking and all forms of lingus. This was funny to me because you could see Ben's mother fighting the urge to cover his ears and run screaming.
The next few acts were pros. They were traveling and stopped in to try out new material. There was a novice metal band who sounded more like grinding metal farts and sandy toilet paper, a few more newbies, and a beautiful flute player.
My set was simple. I played three of the songs I should have been playing all this time I've been fighting corporate America.
"The girl I'm seeing and I had a bet," I started out with a lie as most artist do. "She found these old songs in my CD case. We rolled the dice. If I won I got free sex. If she won I had do an open mic. Ergo tonight's performance."
I got a few laughs. It's good to break the ice. No one needed to know that I've been to scared to perform since 1999. The rush was sweet and the songs felt good to play. They flowed like the first drag of a fresh American Spirit released into the wind. They seemed to say "We miss you. This is where you belong."
Ah yes, playing live.
That Beautiful Black Man
Monday, March 3, 2014
60 - To Blog or Not To Blog
"Hey babe," said Marrianne's familiar voice over the scratchy cell phone. "What's going on?"
"Nothing much," I said turning the volume down on my television. I had seen this episode so a chat with Marrianne seemed like a pleasant distraction.
"I'm just sitting here on my couch with my thumb in my ass, keeping it warm." I said smiling into the receiver.
"Nice," she exhaled. I could see her closing her ice blues and shaking her brunette curls back and forth. "I just tried to call your house and got your voice mail. You're not sitting there with some chickie are you?" She asked.
"No, kid. Far from it. I'm in a bit of a dry spell. I can't even keep my hand awake lately." I rolled my eyes towards my ceiling.
"Blaaaaaah!!" I could see her scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out over the phone. I imagined she was looking around her apartment for something to throw at me.
"That's too much information. Way too much information!"
"Sorry," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face. "I unplugged my phone for the night so I could have some quiet time."
"That's going to help your dry spell," dripped the sarcasm. "That and maybe some hand sanitizer."
"That was quick. I like that." I twisted from side to side trying to crack my aching back. "But seriously kid, you ever get those nights were you just want to be left alone?" I asked finally clicking off the TV.
"Want me to let you go?" she asked.
"No, no, no. I still have caller ID on my cell phone. If I didn't want to talk to you I wouldn't. Besides I actually like you. What's on your mind?"
"First, I know how much you hate driving up to Boston so I wanted to thank you for coming up to my birthday party." God knows I hate driving to, in, or near Boston.
"You're welcome, kid. Once again congratulations on the engagement."
"Thank you." Even though we were on the phone I could see her face light up as she thought about her future husband.
"Second, I'm missing a few days."
"Wow. You didn't look that drunk at the party. I left early but you seemed fine."
"No, you schmuck! I'm missing a few of 'The Days'! Your short stories!"
"Sorry, sorry. I've lost a few weekends lately so I thought ... never mind. Just let me know which ones and I'll send them to you." I said leaning forward, still not getting that satisfying crack in my back.
"I was thinking why don't you just set up a website or a blog or something. That way I could just go there if I needed to do some catching up?"
"Ah yes. To blog or not to blog. That's a good question. Believe it or not I do have a website. I just haven't built the page to put up yet." I was so close to cracking my back but no go.
"What the hell are you waiting for? You can set up a blog for free. If you put up the little short stories up once a week I think you're good for at least a year and a half. There's Ringo, Myspace, Livejournal and a whole slew of other free sites."
I sat quietly on the couch and stared at the blank TV screen. It's one thing to be a slacker but another to be called on it.
"I'm a bum." I finally exhaled. "I just look at these things as a pleasant distraction. I don't even know how many people still read them. But now that you mention it I do have plans for 2006. I'm going to finish the website, put out some new music, find and hit some open mics to promote the music, aaand if I find one I like, I'll set up a blog. Happy?"
"Yes," she replied smiling. "But why not start now?"
"Marrianne if I start now who's ass am I going to use to keep my thumb warm?" I said once again feeling the slick smile cut across my face.
"Blaaaaaah!" She said presumably shaking her brunette curls back and forth.
That Beautiful Black Man
"Nothing much," I said turning the volume down on my television. I had seen this episode so a chat with Marrianne seemed like a pleasant distraction.
"I'm just sitting here on my couch with my thumb in my ass, keeping it warm." I said smiling into the receiver.
"Nice," she exhaled. I could see her closing her ice blues and shaking her brunette curls back and forth. "I just tried to call your house and got your voice mail. You're not sitting there with some chickie are you?" She asked.
"No, kid. Far from it. I'm in a bit of a dry spell. I can't even keep my hand awake lately." I rolled my eyes towards my ceiling.
"Blaaaaaah!!" I could see her scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out over the phone. I imagined she was looking around her apartment for something to throw at me.
"That's too much information. Way too much information!"
"Sorry," I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face. "I unplugged my phone for the night so I could have some quiet time."
"That's going to help your dry spell," dripped the sarcasm. "That and maybe some hand sanitizer."
"That was quick. I like that." I twisted from side to side trying to crack my aching back. "But seriously kid, you ever get those nights were you just want to be left alone?" I asked finally clicking off the TV.
"Want me to let you go?" she asked.
"No, no, no. I still have caller ID on my cell phone. If I didn't want to talk to you I wouldn't. Besides I actually like you. What's on your mind?"
"First, I know how much you hate driving up to Boston so I wanted to thank you for coming up to my birthday party." God knows I hate driving to, in, or near Boston.
"You're welcome, kid. Once again congratulations on the engagement."
"Thank you." Even though we were on the phone I could see her face light up as she thought about her future husband.
"Second, I'm missing a few days."
"Wow. You didn't look that drunk at the party. I left early but you seemed fine."
"No, you schmuck! I'm missing a few of 'The Days'! Your short stories!"
"Sorry, sorry. I've lost a few weekends lately so I thought ... never mind. Just let me know which ones and I'll send them to you." I said leaning forward, still not getting that satisfying crack in my back.
"I was thinking why don't you just set up a website or a blog or something. That way I could just go there if I needed to do some catching up?"
"Ah yes. To blog or not to blog. That's a good question. Believe it or not I do have a website. I just haven't built the page to put up yet." I was so close to cracking my back but no go.
"What the hell are you waiting for? You can set up a blog for free. If you put up the little short stories up once a week I think you're good for at least a year and a half. There's Ringo, Myspace, Livejournal and a whole slew of other free sites."
I sat quietly on the couch and stared at the blank TV screen. It's one thing to be a slacker but another to be called on it.
"I'm a bum." I finally exhaled. "I just look at these things as a pleasant distraction. I don't even know how many people still read them. But now that you mention it I do have plans for 2006. I'm going to finish the website, put out some new music, find and hit some open mics to promote the music, aaand if I find one I like, I'll set up a blog. Happy?"
"Yes," she replied smiling. "But why not start now?"
"Marrianne if I start now who's ass am I going to use to keep my thumb warm?" I said once again feeling the slick smile cut across my face.
"Blaaaaaah!" She said presumably shaking her brunette curls back and forth.
That Beautiful Black Man
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