OCAC

I started writing theater reviews for an online magazine. Check out my first one here.

Not funny

1 I am reading "In Cold Blood" by Truman Copote. It is exceeding my expectations. 2 The Rhianna and Eminem song about abusive relationships made me cry in my car randomly yesterday. (For the record, I've never been in a physically abusive relationship. It's just a good song.) 3 Borders is great but too many people know it. Too crowded. Too loud. 4 The bruise on my finger has grown astronomically, both in its annoyance and its size. 5 Grad school....having thoughts about it. 6 Self-realizations are not fun, according to me. They're scary mostly. 7 Staring a new blog with Laura. Here's a teaser: It's called "Free Bean." Look out. 8 The most exciting part about not liking my job is knowing I won't be there forever. 9 Can you spell the contraction "will not" as "wont" and "won't"? It seems the apostrophe has become obsolete. 10 If there was a Gilmore convention, I'd go. 11 A dear friend moved to Miami for school. Lucky girl. 12 Elle made me watch "Jersey Shore." I puked. 13 I want to find a decent, quiet place to enjoy a beer and read a book. Suggestions? 14 I can't end on no. 13 becuase I hear it's unlucky.

It seems not to matter

"I broke up with a girl once because she didn't know how to put make-up on."


This is something I overheard the bartender say to the cocktail waitress while I was stewing in my early bird loneliness. Knowing shows always start late wasn't enough to keep me from getting there right on time, the wrong time, two hours before the right time. I filled the lull with a phone call to my best bud and also using up precious pages of my Moleskin with thoughts about how hipsters are cool and I want to be one but I hate them because they're too cool for me and on second thought they need to get their act together and just be themselves instead of buying fedoras and wearing scarfs in 80-degree weather. I also wrote down a few things others said around me, "others" being folks in the band, folks with the band, and folks paid for serving drinks.

Stimulating conversation rarely comes during a loud show. The only thing I can think of asking that is relevant and understandable is "What are you drinking?" And the answer can sometimes be followed by, "You know, they have $4 well drinks." But if there is no special deal, you're left with "Hm. Cool" (thumbs up sign.) Even before the show starts, while people are still milling in and the speakers aren't drowning the crowd yet, the conversation seems to be reduced to "yeah, uh-huh", keeping some sort of discussion going while you look around to see who's there: if you know anyone and if you see anyone you want to know. The most provoking conversation, for me at least, has been when I listen to others' conversations and respond to them in my mind. That way I can say anything I want back and will never cause offense because no one will hear it. Such as, "You're so shallow. You seem really nice and all, and I like your 'Go Fuck Yourself' tattoo to some extent, but you're fat and I think you need to get in a bit of shape before you start telling a girl she can't do her make-up right."

I realized tonight that I have a great fear of being insignificant. It must be my greatest fear actually. And if my years of pretending that I know what I'm talking about have taught me anything, I'd have to say with great confidence that people's greatest fears are what drives them to do what they do. I, for instance, cannot waste time sitting and enjoying a drink. I have to do something, anything, like write down anti-hipster quips and other people's shallow comments, even if it amounts to nothing. To me, wasting time is as good as throwing away a perfectly good bowl of soup. I read something once by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., that's always stuck with me.

And now I want to tell you about my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, ''If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.''

So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ''If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.''

That’s one favor I’ve asked of you.

-Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., "Man Without a Country"

This is one of the only times that I have heard this concept, the slow down and smell the roses concept, outside of a religious context. At least that has been articulated in such a vivid, convincing, non-hippie way. I'm not sure how I feel about my greatest fear that I have just now labeled. All I know is that I want lemonade now and will ask if Laura will have some with me tomorrow.

This post turned into more like a journal entry than I had hoped. My apologies.

Thank you Abe and FDR

So far it has been 14 cents in three days. Four pennies and a dime. I'm not sure when it began or if it's already over, but it has come to where I expect just to look down, reach a bit, and resurface with a tiny round piece that, had it been in my wallet moments before, would have been a petty insignificance barely called change for a chump.

But when it's on the ground, a penny is worth more than a penny.

After bumming for 12 hours about a lost internship, I hardly thought pennies and dimes were enough to lift my spirits. If anything, I thought whatever divine being was placing these coins in my path was trying to teach me to wear more practical pants all the time, not just at work.

Sometimes I would actually consider not picking up one of the coins because I didn't want any more of Hannah revealed than needed to be in that Jamba Juice.

The unapologetic hand that boldly keeps your pants up while kneeling down was useful. Though after I realized it's not that embarrassing to try to keep my underwear out of sight, the real embarrassment was clear to me. Who stops in the middle of an intersection to pick up a penny? It's a penny, for Pete's sake.

What seems to be Hannah walking in the tracks of a leprechaun is actually either a simple gift from something I've heard called Karma or an eccentric way to foretell coming providences...flukes, fortunes, serendipities, whatever you want to call it.

Something as mundane as picking up a dime is easily forgotten; but I know exactly when the luck started. Wednesday. And I know exactly when it snowballed. Friday.

("All of a sudden" is one of my least favorite phrases. Think about it. You have a bit of a sudden; it's there; it's big; it's using semi-colons relentlessly. Then, just when you don't think you can take any more of that sudden, you get all of it!)

All of a sudden, doors have been opening. Things have been happening. I've been feeling excited about working my ass off on various unpaid projects. Hard work is such a turn on for me.

The coins were not the point, I think. But the coins certainly had a point. They were like those numbingly sweet-natured, recorded women who tell you that your call is very important to them, you are next in line, please stay on the line and they will be with you shortly.