Tuesday, September 25, 2007

andy needs surgery

fried okra & water at 66 diner, later a cup of atole before bed

I have to visit Andy at the hospital. He's having surgery on his heart or a lung or something. I get to his room and he already has a bandage over his heart, but I realize from what the nurse is saying that he's only prepped for the procedure, he's not done. He's sitting in a chair, and the bandage is on top of his t-shirt. He does seem really out of it, though. I can't tell if he's just freaked out and avoiding conversation, or if he's drunk. But when he starts playing serious air guitar, complete with an "I'm-so-intense" rocking face, and there's not even any music playing. I try not to bust out laughing, though I'm not sure he is even really aware of my presence. I kneel down and try to talk to him. I can't speak very well, though, due to my recent head injury. I wonder if the nurses know that I'm an agent.

Later I go out for a sandwich at a Subway type place. I think I'm maybe in Durango, some place with clean air and a brick mainstreet. While I'm in the restaurant, I decide I might as well try to land a job. They seem to be doing interviews, why not just get in line. My restaurant experience might be a little overstated for a corporate sandwich shop, but I'm ready & willing to work, and I can make them see that. The interview goes well, even though I think I'm still not speaking very well. The manager hands me over to a trainer. I think I'm supposed to be a cook, but maybe not. Or maybe everyone does everything around here. My trainer asks me if I can do dishes. I'm momentarily taken aback, but hey, I don't mind doing dishes. But my response was maybe a bit reluctant. My trainer doesn't know how he feels about that. I find mysef out in the street. I guess I don't have to figure out what to tell my current work about me getting a new job, after all.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

i get quit-fired

had this dream a night or two ago, don't remember what i ate.

(no kidding about the content of this dream-- i think it was the night after i posted my last about not remembering much and feeling lame about work.)

I'm at home, which is my parents' house. Apparently Josh and I both live there. I've really overslept, and by the time I pull myself out of bed the phone has rung and it's R on the phone, wondering where I am. My parents hand the phone to me and I start to go on about getting there right away and being sorry. But R will have none of it and is really condescending and abusive, suggesting I'm a lot more trouble than I'm actually worth. I try to be reasonable, but she's really going on. She tells me to wear brown, but brown velvet (by which she means my brown pants, apparently), not the brown linen (by which she means the tan striped shirt I have), because she doesn't like that shirt and doesn't want to have to look at it. She keeps coming around again to something she won't come out and say, essentially that she doesn't need me working there anymore. I call her on it, figuring she will probably back off. "If you want to fire me, you can do it, it's your business," I tell her. "You can fire me just the way you hired me." I secretly hope she'll just take the bait and I'll be off the hook of the whole thing. She cuts the conversation off, asking why I'm not there yet. I point out that since we're on the phone I can't really be getting ready. We hang up.

I try to get myself ready to go, Josh has the car running and in the driveway (parked sideways, for some reason). I realize that I'm just not moving very fast & not very effective. The phone rings again, I know it's her. My mom takes the call to give me a buffer and a little more time. My mom tries to make small talk, complimenting the gallery, saying she really liked the Katrina L. show. But my mom doesn't know art speak and R takes it all the wrong way & apparently tells her off. I mom hands me the phone, exasperated. R repeats my mom's comments back to me, adding "How DARE she?" I won't stand still for this lady bitching out my mom and talking shit. I tell her to forget it, I won't be coming in. I hang up, and feel a great weight lifted from my shoulders.

Monday, September 17, 2007

not posting much

I haven't been recording my dreams for the past couple of months.

Two reasons for this.
1. I'm not remembering as many lately.
2. My current job doesn't allow me really a moment's personal time for such a thing, and I go in early enough that I don't have 15 minutes in the morning, lest I be late. By the end of the day, I almost never remember anything of my dream, and it's lost.

I don't like losing this habit. And it does bug me that I don't feel like I would be allowed a moment to myself on an occasional morning. Point #19 that I sort of resent about my job environment.

Of course, I had no recourse to sitting for a moment to record my dreams when I was in service, either. But when I was in service I went in later, allowing me time beforehand to get my shit logged, and I also wasn't working 9 hours days with no breaks.

By polling my own tendancy to bitch about a wide variety of topics, I'm beginning to get the feeling that I don't like my job. Or more, I think I resent my job. Which may be more dangerous. But as I related to little Claire the other day, I think I've gotten over the "oh God, I'm stuck here, my soul is crushed" hump and it's just grin & bear it from here on out. I know it is a job on a timer, though, and sooner or later the bell is going to Ding.

yehudi shows up to play a gig

spagetti & smeatballs, salad, a few cookies, later night cereal

At work, but the gallery is an old brick space with concrete floors and a stage, a smallish venue (i think it's were i saw the tombstones play in tucson in 2006). Yehudi is expected but there's some scheduling disturbance. He finally shows, with his band. I run up to him and basicallu mount him-- flying leap into a hug with my arms & legs. It's so good to see him. He tells me that their schedule got all messed up, or rather that his time slot at our place is as it should be, but the next place than evening, the first band jumped ship. so they are expected early, but they can't be there early cuz they're playing our joint instead at the moment. He starts packing up to go, I want to help and also just have a few more moments with him, but not seem like a pussy, either. So I start picking up pieces of art that I know belong to him and start hauling them out to his truck, a panel truck on the street behind, like Silver behind Josh's work.