well, the end of these days:
you know that day. that endless repeating day that begins at around 10 am. the roommates yelling “you have no love in your heart!” and the sun creeping through your eyelids. you think your way out of breakfast and back into sleep. that day that actually begins at 11:40. the checking of email and bags under eyes. the tired-from-too-much-sleep. the imagining one is self-employed, when in fact, one is simply un-employed. the power walk to the post office and the bank and finally to the cafe for a day of writing, interrupted by that cell phone call from back east. the bar of sweet gooey walnut confectionary crap and the guy with glasses typing on his mac, telling you about all the other people he talks to who sit on the very couch where you’re sitting, asking the very same questions you’re asking yourself, that people all over san francisco have asked of themselves for decades… “who am i?” “what do i really want to do?” and “should i get a laptop?” the brief flash of the idea for the greatest reality show ever. the fantasy of selling the idea and making too much money. finding a personal trainer. really never eating sugar again. dating in hollywood. one-on-one time with deepak chopra and/or ellen. renouncing your interest in fame and fortune. adopting the baby from bolivia and the concert with ‘death cab’ that finally ends landmine casualties forever. an international peace treaty that dissolves armies in every corner of the earth and sends the money instead to schools and diplomacy and mediation. and art. that day that now turns colder and wetter and windier and darker sooner and begs a nap. more checking of email as the day melts away and you make it out the show, the meeting, the class, the video store. those days are coming to an end.
it seems like only a year ago when i was getting ready for new year’s eve 2004. and it began with a bang.. the year of the circus. the first paid gig at the punchline. 10 minute sets at cobb’s. kostume karaoke at the odeon. fighting the landlord for rent-control (and letting him win). four stars from film threat magazine. the pre-cancerous (and now fully eradicated) freckle. the magic bus trip. the buddhist acting class. the new job in Television. the innovation of polyamory, and the ensuing disillusion therof. the myriad stunning self-revelations.
and this new year, spiraling upward, hurddling toward a stillness, triumphantly and humbly making new and better mistakes. writing that book? taking the class in rhetoric? the summer in brooklyn? the one-woman show? moving to la? positive cash-flow? finishing that damn screenplay? a new and wildly resolute committment to making an utter fool of oneself on stage? or better yet, some heretofore unimaginable version of the future thrusting itself into reality?
PORN-E-OKIE, ODEON BAR, NEW YEAR’S EVE, 2004. five bucks.
so if you find yourself wandering the misty streets of san francisco this new year’s eve, you’ll fit right in with the misfits of the odeon. join us. we’ll be singing all the karaoke favorites but shockingly all the background video is porn. and it all matches up with alarming serendipity. i’ll be hosting the show with chicken, jascha at the door, flash and phoenix at the bar. you’ll find us in top form, in heels and bunny ears, in nurse outfits and jail jumpsuits, in boas and bibs, in to celebrate the triumphs and mourn the losses of the passing annum, squeezing as many sins as can be squozen into the last hours of the old year, all agreeing that some particular moment that evening when the hands of the clock are aligned (though many will shout erroneous numbers as we try to count down to midnight), will be the most important moment of transformation, empty of expectation, brimming with excitement. and that next moment, the one after, smelling the sticky floor of the bar, our hands collectively braced against the peeling paint of the black and red walls, dizzy from too much of something or not enough of another, at once alive with open, delicate hearts in the face of our own future, and frozen, our hearts already breaking in anticipation of the first disappointment of the new year. but not yet. no. make this big new year give you a big fat smooch on the cheek–and then turn your head real quick so she hits you smack dab square on the lips.