March 6th, 2002. Wednesday
 

    I've managed to keep myself fairly busy for the last week or so. It's made the days go by pretty quickly. I think my guitar playing has really turned a corner. It's amazing what a couple months of lessons and practicing will do for you. And me. So that's been bringing me a modicum of satisfaction lately. I'm not super fucking great, but I'm a little more confident about it, and wouldn't be as uncomfortable now if someone called me a "musician." I'd never call myself that, even though I can play five or six instrument. Because I can't really play any of them particularly well. But we're getting there.

   In other music-related things, I'm continually impressed with the new Wilco record. I got a little tired of it after a week straight of only listening to that and nothing else, but it's back in force now, and I appreciate the songs even more. They're really rocketing up in my estimation. Two shows are scheduled for the Bowery Ballroom in April, and I'm considering going to both. Speaking of the Bowery Ballroom, I was thinking, it's too bad they never have actual balls there, in their ballroom. You know, the gussied-up, snooty sort of event. It'd be nice to put on a tux or something and hit the Lower East Side. A real interesting scene, yessir.

    I'm having real trouble staying 100% awake at work. Yesterday, someone was trying to show how to do something, and i knew before we even started that it was going to be bad news. In the past, I've fought through such instructional sessions, but yesterday was a whole other story. I actually started to dream. I think. Or day dream, while half asleep. It got to the point where I almost started asking the person who was teaching me all sorts of questions, none of which had anything to do with what she was showing me. I started seeing weird colorful shapes and blobs, and they seemed to be talking. So I almost asked her if she knew what the deal with these blobs were. Other daydreams were a little more grounded in reality, which was actually worse, because it took a lot more awareness to realize that only I was involved in the dialogue, not any one around me. It's really embarrassing when I actually do say these days. It used to happen all the time with Rodzilla. The worse part about talking in my half-sleep with Rodzilla is that she would consciously fuck with me for her own sick amusement. I'd be half asleep, maybe yammering something or the other, maybe just quietly settling into slumber, and all of a sudden I'd hear "rhinoceros," or "umbrella," or "octopus." Of course, I'd spring awake, and go "What?" and Rodzilla would pretend to be asleeop, wake up, and go "what?" It took quite some time, and a lot of delirious confusion, to finally figure out what was going on. I'm too trusting.

    Matt quit his lawyering job last week. A few years ago I had bet him a week of his salary versus a week of mine that he'd be a lawyer for more than two years. It seemed like a good risk at the time, since he makes, or made, about five times as much as me. A few months ago, after being on the job for about two months, he gave me the chance to rescind the bet. I did, and it was wise for two reasons. First, he would have held it against me and never let me into any of his shows if he got famous. And secondly, he lasted about five months. When he told them he was quitting, to pursue a career in comedy, they told him fine, good luck. They actually let him take a leave of absence, so that he can keep his insurance and whatnot. But he said, in exchange for the health coverage, they told him he had to perform a standup routine at their company function later in March. I thought they were kidding, but when I spoke with Matt on monday, he said he was practiving for the event. That's sort of humiliating, don't you think? Like, a bunch of rich lawyers sitting around, dangling the carrot in front of the jester or something. Like "C'mon boy! You want health insurance? Tell me a joke then, boy!" They might as well get Matt all drunk and shoot pistols at his feet and scream "Dance, rummy!" I hope Matt doesn't read this before his perforance. I'd hate to undermine his confidence at such an early stage. Of course, I doubt I could really do that anyway.

    So on Saturday night, we went out with Matt to celebrate his breaking out of the "golden handcuffs," as they call them. We ended up at Fuel, the bar formerly known as Phebe's, on Bowery st. We only went there because it was a fairly spacious place, and we expected a small posse of Matt's friends to show. Jed, for his part, was eager to try to tips on picking up ladies he'd read about on fastseduction.com. One of his co-workers told him he'd been trying it out, and having a fairly good success rate. I didn't know Jed was doing these things until the next day. I wish he woulda told me. It would have been fun to watch. He was only engaging in the eye-contact game though, and hasn't rustled up the nerve to actually approach somebody. The rule is that once you enage in eye contact with someone, you don't look away until either they look away, or they smile. I'm not sure exactly where that might get you. I guess you'd have to do the follow up. I haven't looked at the page yet. I myself won't even so much as look people in the eye, at least not for more than a second. I think it's time to get that Paxil prescription.

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   As I (internally) predicted, I've manged to raise Caryn's ire by not mentioning her at all today, after seeing her everyday over the weekend and on monday as well. So, yes, maybe that should have been noted. But i really didn't feel like getting into a detailed rundown of everywhere I went and who I was with, or what it was that Caryn was helping me with. So I apologize. Me so sorry.