12/3/03 10:22 PM: May you live in interesting times, as well ...

My homeboy Mike Datcher has a clamshell iBook from what feels like a billion years ago. Its hard drive went wonkers on him, and he asked me to drive him into Santa Mosity to drop it off for service. It's a crippling development for a writer who works at home (ack, I need Diskwarrior), and Mike is my dawg, so we rolled. We talked of many things -- primarily the difference in our philosophies and takes on life. His intent is to "spread love" and do good wherever he can. I am "ready to punch somebody in the neck at the drop of a hat." He talked about the safe course I've kind of chosen, and how it can rob of humanity and highs and lows. I said I'm fine with that. I noted that my fiction has picked up dramatically and my poetry has become nearly non existent. I'm a lot happier choosing "evil," however, and even he couldn't argue with results. We talked about how I've been subconsciously avoiding the World Stage workshop, a place that once felt like home. After getting badly burned on the web design contract, and then having at least two people who've known me for years choose sides and decide not to be "as friendly" with me after the divoce, it feels less comfortable. No conclusions. Still, it was a good talk.

We started and ended up at MacSolutions near Westwood, which is the cheaper (if somewhat slower) repair option. I didn't think to suggest the Apple Store, but oh well.

I got a call last night from Nigel, one of the owners of Hollywood Karaoke. He's asked me to fill in for a missing host on Friday, which is an amazing opportunity for me and a ton of fun as well. It does kind of conflict with some other plans I made for Friday, but I'll see how it all meshes together. What's funniest to me is that, after winning eight place in their karaoke contest (a $25 prize, combined with my $50 qualifying prize), this adds another $75 to my coffers from them. It's almost like I won second place, for doing what I would have done normally and pushing a few more buttons. Cool!

Eliot found that hilarious, the beginning of the "reign of doom." I expect all the usual suspects to be there, in case I screw up. Funny that. I'd almost prefer them not to know, but I'd catch it in the throat if I don't tell the "karaoke mafia," despite not really wanting anybody to see my shakedown cruise, you know?

Still, at $75 a pop, with multiple empty nights coming up this month as his normals celebrate the holidays (and of course, I don't, I hate Christmas and Jesus and all that crap that I can't avoid from almost Halloween and almost all the way to the freakin' Super Bowl), it'll be a nice extra chunk of change for nights I would have been out singing and acting a fool anyway, for free. It's coming at a good time, as the flow of currency often does for me, and will do good things to my situation.

This morning I woke up at 6:51 AM for no reason I could discern. No loud noise, no shaking, no nothing. Just sat up in bed, wholly awake. Couldn't get back to sleep. Lay there cursing for a bit, and got my Maroon 5 CD around 8AM, played that while still in bed, then gave up and got up. I am happy I kept myself from playing Vice City (more on that in a minute), and I got a lot done in the last two days. Two loads of laundry. Some writing, my newspaper, some household cleanup and my piece de resistance.

I'm so happy with how this turned out, I'm tempted to crack open my new digital camera and take a photo of it. I now have four 84 inch purple curtains hanging from my ceiling, separating my "office" area (where all the toys and crazy stuff is) from my "living room" area (where all the normal stuff is that makes me look less crazy than I am). My neighbor Carol asked to see what I was doing when I brought in the drapes (I'm convincing myself she didn't just case my apartment), and said, "You got taste!" I'm really pleased with how it turned out, especially after using shower curtains for weeks. I'm so ghetto sometimes.

Mmm. I think I'm out of juice here ...

That design thing turned out crappy, with the client deciding that she was gonna ignore all the work I did and start over with some other shmuck (who called my house, sounding all weird, like he was supposed to stand me down and was scared of it). She's wholly ignoring her contractual agreements and encourages me to take her to court. Her beef is that she thinks I padded my price and I'm not worth the money I claim. In emails alone, I'd eat her alive, but she really has no assets and doesn't look like she will any time soon. Suing her would be a pain in the ass, but I have two years past our original date of the agreement to think about it before the statute of limitations runs out. That's a blah moment. I am, pretty much, done with design work, since people are scum.

So I am headed to the Black Enterprise "Hot List" reception with McGowan tomorrow, a chez chez event for the Black bourgeoise. Given that business with the design, I'm unlikely to be pushing for any design references. Too much work, too little reward, too many bad experiences. McGowan should be interesting to watch in a room full of moneyed Black people, though. Anything for a laugh.

So back to Vice City. If you don't know what Grand Theft Auto: Vice City is, you clearly don't watch enough TV. It's possibly one of the most vile, reprehensible, violent, calculating, destructive, evil games ever made. I adore it. I drive police cars over roller skating pedestrians for fun. I blew up a building the other day. I bought a house called "El Swanko Casa" and hid a police car in the garage. Mad, mad fun.

A dangerously nice sister bought me the Playstation 2 I've been avoiding buying for, oh, two years, for just this reason. I find myself in traffic, devising strategies to kill people more effectively in the game. I download cheat codes and walkthroughs from the web. I have literally played seven hour stretches without breaks and barely noticed it. Argh. I feel like it's determined that I never get any work done, ever again. Like all things I love, it's probably a bad idea, but I'm forging ahead anyway.

I've been feeling a lot better about myself, partially due to the progress I'm making in therapy, and partially because I'm just getting good results out in the world. I'm not worried about anything, and I'm getting things done slowly but surely. It's good to be in a good place, and truthfully a little weird.

For all my good feelings, the ghosts of this year's transitions still stick with me. When an attractive woman is nice to me, and things are going well, I seize up. The last attractive woman who was nice to me and I chose to believe in did more damage to me than anything in my whole life, and I thought she was the cat's pajamas right up until the end. Therefore, I question my values in judging women, I look at anything I like or good that happens to me with undue suspicion. If somebody's nice to me, or likes me, or does nice things to me, and I am going with it, how can it not blow up in my face? It always has before. Do I have bad taste? Am I capable of making a good decision? The fear of that is paralyzing sometimes, and it's the dark cloud around my silver lining.

That and having two zits, one on my chin and one on my thigh. Man, that's irritating.

I wanted to go out tonight, to go sing, or go see my homeboy Mikey and his band Cockeysville perform in front of a talent scout. The sleepies from this morning hit me hard, right in the middle of doing this week's comic book reviews, and I was forced to take a two hour nap to even be able to continue. I'm kind of okay staying home sometimes, though. Save me some money, no harm in that.

So I suppose I'm gonna make a run to ... ah, the store. Used to be open 'til midnight, now they close at ten, those bastards. You'd think that after weeks of striking, they'd wanna stay open and make up some of that money, but noooooo. Gah. Well, I'll have to think about where I'm gonna get something to drink. Mmm.