It is a truth universally acknowledged, that on the day before a trip out of town, all hell will break loose and nothing you plan will come to fruition. I’m heading out of town for a week tomorrow morning, and natch, I have obligations and necessary contortions I must force my life into to accomplish all that I need before leaving. It never works out the way you envision, and today was more convoluted than usual. In spite of my intentions to the contrary, I found myself in want, not of a wife, but of more time.
It figures this would happen a day after turning twenty-six. I feel the weight of responsibility bearing down on me like a pack of piranhas. Not particularly heavy, maybe, but who cares when your various members are being chewed to pieces by the Amazonian water terrors. I used to have nightmares about piranhas, about swimming in muddy shallows in the middle of the South American jungle, about feeling the first tender nibble, and then the awful, awful pain as the entire flock of them launches en masse upon my calves and then my torso as I buckle with the extreme agony of being eaten alive.
That’s sort of what I felt like today, only metaphorically it was somewhat more nebulous and miasmic. By the way, I learned the word ‘miasma’ from a video game, and it has become my favourite go-to word for anything pertaining to clouds, confusion, or sheep. Try it out sometime. A swirling miasma of sheep. It grows on you, believe me.
So I have all these best laid plans, which started ganging aglee-ing by around 11:00am, when a trip to Best Buy to purchase microphone cables ended in a classic case of resident floor staff member with a look of either intense gastro-intestinal difficulty or confusion.
ME: Do you sell XLR cables here?
HIM: SKR?
ME: No, XLR. Like for microphones.
HIM: Hmmm, I have no idea. Ask that guy over there. His name is Allen.
ME: You’re very helpful.
So I go over to Allen. He gives me an appropriately baleful stare (down, as it happens, since he’s about six feet taller than me), then nods as if I’m harmless.
ME: Do you sell XLR cables?
HIM: FLR?
ME: X-L-R. You might know them as DMX 4.5, or…
HIM: Oh. XLR. For microphones.
ME: Yeah. For microphones.
HIM: I have no ide–wait. No. We don’t.
ME: Really? That’s strange. Seems like you would have something like that, seeing as how you have everything from washers and dryers to the latest XBox iteration. This is an audio component. Pretty standard cable. And you’re an electronics store, specializing in audio/video components and equipment.
HIM: I like XBox.
Okay, so some of that may have been dramatized for effect. But it sort of defined the rest of the day for me, which seemed to move in a slow motion tumbling motion. Everything seemed coated with a numbing pudding glaze, giving the day a sense of unaccomplishment, like everything I did was offset by the fact that it was very little in terms of actual productivity. I had a job interview which ended up lasting an hour and a half, even though I only talked to the interviewer for five minutes of that time. The rest was filling out paperwork. I took an English exam. We shook hands, and I didn’t get the vibe from him that we really connected, not in the way that I want to connect to a potential employer. I’d really like to get the eye contact that says “I’d buy you a drink right now if I wasn’t on the clock…and currently in AA on Step 4.” That’s the kind of soul connection I want. But that may be asking too much. Perhaps I should just go for them not battling an unexpected facial tic when I tell them how much I expect in a salary.
So life in LA after a year, right? It’s been a year, I should have stories, right?
The problem is, I’ve told pretty much all the good stuff, embellished by degrees and nuance heretofore unseen except with electron microscopes. Sure, there are moments of space, which I have kept to myself for either personal reasons or the fact that telling it would bore even the most boring bore that ever bored the crap out of everyone else by telling a boring story–even him–which leaves the blog entries from the last year. You can troll back through and find the gold among the fools, if you care to look. I know I promised a year in review, but this is pretty much it. I survived. I made it. I have a blog to prove it.
And that’s the modern myth.
Sorry, no Fringecast today. That was one of the ganged aglee’d thing that didn’t happen because the fates conspired with Betty Crocker to make that godawful pudding crap that was stuck to everything. We did have topics, and even a funky interview set up with a funky cool internet geek chick. But that just means next time will be ball-busting good. Or bad. Whatever 80′s term that indicates deferred Awesomeness.
I will be gone for the next week. Posting will suck at best. As in, it won’t happen. Go visit some of the sweet sites on the sidebar, or catch up on the Fringecast archives (also on the sidebar). Or go out and have a life for a week. Cuz you know you’ll be back. So will I.
Thanks for visiting. See you next week.