Le maudit Mo D.

Fun with photos

I got my wedding photo proofs yesterday. Whee! Here is my photo of everyone!

midday coffeehouse denizen w/laptop

Now that I am no longer pulling a salary from the glory and dust-drudgery that is paid archival work, I am in earnest writing a novel. Believe it or not folks, I ain't fucking around. I'm doing it. The time is night: I'm 30, circumstantially unemployed, I ratholed some money from my job so I could afford to do this, and mentally, I am prepared in ways I could not have been 3-5-7 years ago.

My afternoons are now spent in any number of A-town coffeehouses with my laptop, pounding away at the writing. I've started viewing them all in a very Consumer Reports kind of way. Here are my findings.

MO'S FAVORITE: FLIGHTPATH (51st & Duval)
What's so great about it?
Comfortable chairs (with butt pads)
Well-lit
Ample free parking/on a bus route, though not one that I can use
Drinks are tasty and not obscenely expensive
Mid-day crowd is pretty quiet and focused, though after 4:00 it tends to get crowded (my one drawback)
Open until 11pm (kind of early, but I'm usually done by then anyway)
Decent, nonintrusive music at a respectable volume (yesterday they played Neil Diamond!)
Free wi-fi
Good number of electrical outlets
Good number of non-coffee, decaf beverages

SECOND PLACE: EPOCH (North Loop)
This place just opened a few weeks ago.
Decent seating/lighting
Cool bathroom graffiti
Lots of outlets, esp. at the bar
Parking okay (kind of weird lot)
Drawbacks: limited drink selection, but they're working on it; no decaf coffee!
Music okay
Crowded at night, but open 24 hours!

CAFE CAFFEINE (W. Mary)
Outlets!
Light!
Tasty drinks!
Comfy seats!
Decent parking. You can park on the street if the lot is full.
Far from my house; not really worth the gas

SPIDER HOUSE (30th/Guad)
I've loved Spider House since my libskool days but I cannot for the life of me focus there during the day.
Dark!
Uncomfortable seats!
Outlets are at a premium, though they do have outdoor outlets on their porch
Too many young studenty types on dates and pretending to study
Loud music
I still rate Spideys number one for social gatherings and nonseriouswork coffee consumption. They have beer on tap now.

THIRD PLACE: GENUINE JOE (Anderson)
Never crowded
Comfy seats
Smallish inside
You can sign out a private room for group events
Plenty out outlets
Off the hipster beaten path, and in my neighborhood
Drawbacks: I don't know if it's just what I'm ordering, but most of my drinks have not tasted good. Their chai tastes like cookie dough.
Also, they tend to book unpleasant musicians on the weekends

RUTA MAYA (Penn Field, S. Congress)
Closest to Bob's work
Coffeehouse by day/music venue by night
Have to look hard and find an outlet
Dark
Drinks taste good
They're playing Sufjan right now
RM tries to serve a lot of different constituents
They have a play area, which is great if you have kids
Bathroom graffiti topics include a debate on Jesus Christ and opinion pieces about "how Amanda needs to get laid."

I anxiously await the opening of THUNDERBIRD COFFEE, located on the major corner nearest my house, right across from my bus stop, meaning short walking distance! Hopefully, it's existence will inspire me to rise early and walk over there and write.

Okay, now for real writing...

adoption fever

Bob is turning into the Mia Farrow of Uglydolls. We got our THIRD Wage on Friday! He's the black stealth ninja Wage and came to our house via post. Upon emerging from the box, he was a bit violent and given to fighting, but Bob's loving touch has calmed him a little. Rule of threes.

We had the Geegster photo shoot today, which was tons of fun. We did a lot of serious poses. I had trouble focusing because J-Rat kept saying we looked extremely hot and that forces my facial muscles to not be serious. I brought about nine outfits and only wore one. There is also a shot of me placing my butt on a whoopee cushion. My hair was straightened for the occasion by J-Luc, owner of CHI. CHI is mighty.

What Was I Thinking, pt. II

THE NOVEL.

I've wanted to write a novel since I was eight. Consistantly, since I was eight. There has not been a time in my life when my goal was not such. There have been numerous times in my life when I was convinced that other endeavors, ones that yield paychecks and benefits, somehow won out over writing the novel. But I have since been proven wrong, though I do miss the paychecks at this point. That felt good.

As I am writing the novel, I find myself wondering if I am doing it correctly. If the mechanics of the writing are correct, if the fact that I just sit my big heiny down in the chair and let the story pour out in no organized, collected way, just a big diarrhea dump of characters and pretty language. I figure the organization is what the second pass is for.

I know and know of several accessible persons who have successfully completed novels and gone on to have them published and sold in chain bookstores. They have the answers. Have not yet endeavored to draw these answers out.

Still, childhood visions of Judy Blume linger my mind, and I have to finish THIS SPECIFIC NOVEL before I die. After it is published, I'm all okay with death. This is a novel of healing, of nourishment, of righting past wrongs and humiliating a few really horrid people in the process. It's also going to be funny and kick ass. As you can see, I've set myself up for quite an uphill battle, but I'm game. I've got to quit being wussy about shit and just DO THINGS. Half of success is just showing up.

Show up, show up.

Last night the Geegsters had a show:

FREE BEER, the musical!

Kind of a hinky, awkward show, but here goes: I played DARLENE, the unsure-of-herself sorority rush candidate who got fully dissed in the middle of the show, leaving me to wonder what to do with her. There were some drunk girls and live beer bottles and another child-switch, where a parent prefers a friend to their actual child. I don't remember much about that show. I tried to start a dance number (failed), I tried to start a solo (failed). It was a passable show, but it went on way past our allotted time and there were blocked offers and listening issues. I hate to be down on a Geegster show, and this isn't the worst, but I had a tough time of it.

Dyna is a fucking genius. That's all I know tonight.

Monsterchusetts Smackdown

It's been a few days since I got home, but I had a faboola time in MA. Smiff '98ers will be treated to a shitload of goodness in May '08 when we roll out some serious entertainment and prizes for those ho's. I was at a reunion planning weekend at Smith. I got to stay in a free hotel room that had a sock odor to it. I also got to give Noho the big hug I've been wanting to give it.

LAUNDRY LIST:
1) Thank GAWD that T*T still exists! I was worried sick that my Asian cuisine supplier of choice had closed down, but no. Still there! And the service is still weird and the food is still delicious. On a side note, in walking past the location of the former Panda Garden (RIP) I still smelled a hint of cooking Chinese food. But that place has been gone for a long time. I once burned my mouth off there when they screwed up the order and gave me T-square's extra mouth corroding spicy tea chicken.

2) Had an oddly serendipitous first night wherein I met and hung out with THE QUEEN OF SPOKEN WORD, Georgia M. She was performing at the Smiff College, and was staying at the same hotel. She showed me all her photos of her with famous people.

3) Fomented some reunion shiz. Chatted up older alums. Bonded. Learned. Looking forward to my oldness.

4) OZQ WHAT UP? Your subterranean newness is really sweet. I'm happy for my girls and their nice station.

5) BIG B GOT CHOPPED. Summer renovations have changed the terrain of my beloved Smiff house. They tore up the rooms and they are all different now. Sniff. But I guess it's good for the current students not to have to use that cramped, rusty old bathroom anymore.

6) BEANTOWN. Went to Boston and saw me some Katy S., some A-stair, some Ann, and some Corday. And like the big nerd I am, I spent an afternoon at the Schlesinger. Big library nerd.

PEOPLE! Writing a novel is HARD. But I am DOING IT! YAY!

Hampton to the North

I had a scare over the weekend that I might not be able to attend the thingadoodle I'm attending at my beloved alma mater this weekend. Mired in unemployment, post-wedding and car accident stress, and the lonesome, perfect void of living (hack!) I deserve a subsidized trip to Northampton, damnit! Even if I have to pack a nice outfit and sit and feel obliged to applaud when the pearls-and-tea ladies rattle off dollar amounts! I have a date with the current OZQ manager to see the new station. She comes nine years after me, the same way I cam nine years after Kathleen B., who contacted me nine years ago to see the station. In nine years, someone will contact her. It's the nine year continuum. Someone in the class of '16, take heed.

But it's all cleared up and I am flying out Thursday, away from here, back to there, my Babylon, my playscape, my museum and my untouched childhood bedroom. My town, my Noho, my sin, my soul. I haven't seen her in over three years. I will cry and jump for joy.

I was assured by my insurance adjuster today that I will not be required to pay more than my deductible on the repair of my automobile, who has been given a dent comparable to my dent. In other dent news, the first medical doctor to give me a definitive surgical recommendation of "yes" proffered that to me today. My left lung, she ain't what she could be.

Stressysadandcreeped is how Mo is feeling today.

Crazy Smart Girl

I just got my mom to agree to pay for the following stunt/lifestyle choice:

I am going to start (maybe not finish, but hang around long enough to learn something) the program at UT to earn the Certificate in Personal Financial Planning. At minimum, I'll take the basic course and learn how to manage my moola in a responsible way, and know enough not to be a cat-food-eating old lady. At maximum, I will earn the certificate and work as a financial planner in a sort of gospel-inspired Financial Responsibility Rolling Roadshow, combining my improv training and showmanship with what I know from this course and entertain the masses, give quality planning advice, and make some money. Amy Poehler meets Suze Orman.

This will keep me out of trouble for a little while. The course meets once a week. Sort of mini-grad-school. With the option to quit.

Emotional Levy

My nerves are shot. After the stress of planning a wedding, of being made unemployed by the grace of time, of being taken off my regular bottle-and-nap schedule and flying about Canada and spending money like crazy, to see my automobile injured under absurd circumstances was the straw that broke Mo's ass and consequently I have fallen into a deep miasma of hatred and self-loathing. It took two seconds to crack open the back of my car and it took two seconds to crack open me and splatter my anxieties all over the pavement. The repair bill is looking to be about $2300. Insurance better pay it.

However, today I started La Novelle in earnest and I must say, it felt good to be perched on a stool at a coffeehouse at 3:30 in the afternoon, surrounded by other quiet, laptop-focused persons. I scored an outlet, I was able to relax, and my computer was working well enough for me to begin the task of fleshing out my Orson and my Olivia and their sad, weird little lives and how they come to collide with the bad evil rich people. And how far away daddies can seem when they pay you to go away (this happens twice in the book, albeit under different circumstances). Or when they die (this happens once). And I feel I have to write this book in the first person, from Olivia's point of view, from her old creaky apartment with the roommates that scare her, as she turns 29 and wonders about what she doesn't have yet. And how Orson is ready to sell his ass to the devil in order to make it with the right film people. Totally bitchin'. I'm gonna do this.

I made a pan of MOUSSAKA for dinner last night. The frustration of my car accident has fueled itself into renewed interest in culinary pursuits. Bully that. I am also headed to NORTHAMPTON next week. That Northampton. The one with the Smith in it.

screeching halt

My happy and charmed life literally came to a screeching halt today when someone's backseat-driving husband wouldn't shut his yamhole long enough to let his lovely wife make sensible parking choices. I failed to heed my own intelligence and let yamhead railroad me into damaging my car just so he could have a goddamn burrito. Now my Corolla has considerable rear panel damage and I am sad and angry and stressy. I mean, this isn't even a real accident, this is just stupid and now I have a hurt car that will cost $$$ to repair.

T'was a lovely month I had! The festival was amazing fun, Canada was lovely. Hell, I even liked my own wedding. But this no-job thing is obviously going to require some ground rules:

1) One of us must be out of the house by 10:00.
2) Lunch will be consumed separately.
3) No one is anyone's chauffeur.
4) If you tell me to maneuver my car in ways that are against my better judgement (13 years accident-free, bitches) I will tell you to get out and take the bus.

I'm feeling blamey, but I am mad at myself. I KNEW his advice on parking the car was bullshit. BUT I did it anyway, and now I am left with an injured vehicle and an assload of anger.

I forgot to note back in August that the GGG show scheduled to coincide with my wedding was cancelled due to a bomb scare.

GGG's BtB show:
UNDERWATER! The musical

YOSHI (me) is a sushi chef of great skill. AMANDA loves Yoshi's sushi. YOSHI thinks AMANDA is hitting on him and falls in love with her.

JENNY (Shel) can go hours without breathing. HER PARENTS (Shana/Andrea) sell her to Sea World. Song: "Underwater Exploitation."

?? (Mad & Julie) run an underwater party facility/illegal seafood dealership called Absorbent. A Jets/Sharks fight song ensues between them and an opposing faction.

AMANDA goes to the docks with YOSHI and feels moved to dive into the sea. JENNY escapes Sea World and swims into the sea. They both become mermaids, and then friends. They are kidnapped by ABSORBENT with a 1-ton sponge. They plan to sell them as sushi-grade seafood.

YOSHI comes to pick up seafood and finds AMANDA there and buys her and takes her back.

PARENTS feel awful and have a funeral for JENNY, who then swims back to them.

FIN.

Acrimony in the Arts

Last night was the final performance of the annual Beyond the Borders Improv Rodeo and Croquet Bonspiel. The fest was awesome (as was the bonspiel--who knew J-Rat could do a headstand on astroturf in the blazing Texas heat!??!) but before I parse the vagaries of this wonderful weekend of improv and togetherness, let me retell a funny interaction had last eve:

Monday nights at our theatre/coffeehouse are open mike poetry performances. I must admit, I am not impressed by poetry open mikes. Without fail, someone must scream, flaunt their bruised sexuality, make reference to "el barrio" or "the ghetto", blame the patriarchy for any number of vague, well-publicized wrongdoings, and of course, recite some pretty crap poetry. The improv community mocks the poets, and finds them to be a general pain in the butt. Myself included.

One of their number, a nervous and angry middle-aged gentleman, approached me in the box office.

ME: Hi. Would you like to buy a ticket to the show tonight?
DUDE: Hell no!
ME: Well...we do have a world-class comedy act tonight, and it's only $5!
DUDE: If it's world class, it must have come out of someone's ass. I'm here for the open mike.
ME: (sensing hostility) Oh.
DUDE: Yeah, fuck comedy.
ME: Well, I hate poetry.
DUDE: (hostile) You know what your problem is? You need to get high.
ME: (speechless) Uh...

In sum:
Improvisers mock/are irritated by the poets
Poets dislike comedy, are troubled by anything with nuance
Poets are ruder than improvisers
Open-mike poetry requires recreational drug use to be appreciated

It's not the drugs I have a problem with, it's the fucking poetry.