My main reason to take Metro was so that I wouldn’t be annoyed while the rest of LA is stuck in traffic. I found out today that even on the train there is traffic to deal with. 

In DTLA, the Blue Line and Expo Line share tracks which is causing a huge clusterfuck during rush hour.  Coming home it took 20 minutes just to travel through three stops. 

Still, it beats having to sit in my car and having to focus on traffic for 1-2 hours.

Today was the first day of the old/new job, which for silly legal reasons will be referred to as the old/new job even though everyone knows what company I am talking about. 

It was also the first day of the new commute which was bearable since I took the train. Because I’m getting on board near the start of the line, getting a seat was fairly painless. 

All in all, the first day wasn’t bad at all. I dare say it was even pleasant. All I did was get acquainted with the different software they use since it’s completely different from the last time I was there five years ago. 

There is also some little white girl whose signature file says, “Namaste.” I really want to meet this bitch and smack her. How fucking insufferable. 

What was really nice was meeting up with Madd after work and getting dinner in Culver City. Sure, I’m typing this on my phone while on the train home. But all in all, it was a good day. 

My mind is a lot more settled today. The only thing left up in the air is my start date, which I’m hoping isn’t some elaborate April Fool’s prank.

But enough about that for now. Last week the FYF Fest released the lineup for this year’s festival, and those headliners immediately grabbed me. I have never seen them live in concert. Add to that A Tribe Called Quest, Erykah Badu, Iggy Pop, Slowdive, Blonde Redhead, Arca, the Faint and Perfume Genius? Maybe I would consider going.

Talking with Madd on Sunday, I recounted to her my experience at FYF Fest back in 2012. The more I thought about it, the more I discouraged myself from going. I really don’t think I could deal with roaming around outside in Exposition Park in the middle of the summer. It was taxing enough five years ago, I can only imagine how it would go this time around.

Now one festival I am looking forward to is the Das Bunker 21st anniversary festival. For one, it will be inside. And since it will be in early October it will be a tossup whether it will be cool or pubic hair scorchingly hot. Even though they haven’t released their lineup, based on last year (VNV Nation, Apoptygma Berzerk, Aesthetic Perfection, Solve, Kanga, Covenant, Legendary Pink Dots and more and more), I’m sure this year’s will be just as good. I can already imagine 3Teeth and Mr. Kitty as a part of the line up.

Of course I might just sequester myself at home and be completely agoraphobic while watching old movies on the Teevee and have just as good time.

I’m in limbo right now. I basically have a new job, but we are in the process of salary negotiations. Late yesterday afternoon, my new prospective employer asked me questions about my optimal start date and optimal salary. I replied and still haven’t heard back from them, and it’s making me nervous. Did I answer the questions incorrectly? Was I being so outrageous that there’s no way they can see nay negotiating room? Did I fuck this up and am now forced to stay in the current hell of a job for eternity?

This is why I don’t like haggling.

Of course I realize that as I’m writing this in the 8:00 hour way before anyone would be at work in that company, so this battle is a war I’m waging against myself.

It’s weird to be in this state of limbo though. I know for all intents and purposes that I have the job. I know that at some point I have to give my notice at this job. That thought is keeping me buoyant even though I am dead tired and needed the alarm to wake me up. But that anxiety I mentioned above is also simmering in there, so I’m not completely floating in the air.

Edit: In the late afternoon, a salary had been agreed to. So all my anxiety was all for naught, I suppose. Now, I’m only waiting to see when they want me to start. Watch it’s all a practical joke and they say my start date is April 8, 20never. MWA!!!!!

Okay. Time for normalcy to return, whatever that means. So no more weekday afternoons off, no more lazing around like I really want to do while watching reruns of old game shows like “What’s My Line” and “Match Game” and “To Tell the Truth.”

Although this morning as I’m thinking this, things got turned upside down in the afternoon. There will be a change which will actually be a blast from the past. That’s about as much as I want to go into it here. But change is in the air, and I’m actually quite excited about it.

Last night I had a dream that I was at the supermarket, but there was a line of people at the Lotto machine waiting to purchase tickets. Since I almost never have cash on me I wasn’t able to buy tickets, so I went over dejectedly to the checkout aisle to pay for my groceries. I don’t know why I remember this.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping through the night lately, so each time I wake in the middle of the night I put on an episode of “Daria” to help me get back to sleep.

On Saturday I decided to start the day with a little hike in Forrestal. It’s amazing to see how much the flora have grown. At the entrance what is usually brown shrubs that are patchy at best, you see this:

These flowers are taller than me.

I didn’t see any snakes today, but this time more flowers have started to bloom. Rather than just the brush sunflowers, there were also plenty of Catalina lilies and Indian paintbrushes bloom everywhere.

After getting sweaty and tired and realizing how out of shape I am, I go home and eat a Subway roasted chicken sub (not pictured.)

That night, Cathi, Tyson, Ben and Emma took me out for steak and cake. Rather than go to our usual haunt of Damon’s in Glendale, we go to the Bull Pen in Redondo since everyone loved it when we went last year. I had a prime rib with baked potato, and no pictures were taken because if you don’t know what that looks like, I feel concerned for you.

We go back to my place for cake and games. Eventually it was Emma’s bedtime (since she is 5), so they all went home. I then go out to Bar Mattachine with Daniel and Staci. I have two Manhattans and a Tuxedo #2 (gin, maraschino and absinthe.)

Here is Daniel:

Here is Staci pretending to be angry at me while I pretend to pout:

There were a couple of very drunk girls that we witnessed. One exposed her crack for the world to see. Another tried to sit on a set of velvet ropes only to realize that gravity isn’t very kind.

We closed the bar, went to Astro’s, then I got home at 4 am.

On Sunday I wake up at 7:30, get upset, turn on Daria, go back to sleep and wake up at 9:30. I go to brunch with Madd where I have this Bloody Mary at Maggiano’s:

Here is me with my Italian sausage brunch:

We walked around the Grove and Farmer’s Market. I got marzipan. Several people also compliment me on my Siouxsie tee. I go home at 6. Go to Trader Joe’s. Go to sleep.

This morning I unfortunately have to go into work to process payroll for our warehouse workers. I leave at 9:30, come home, do laundry and do nothing all day.

It’s been a better than expected birthday.

Recently my bathroom reading book has been Fernando Pessoa’s The Book of Disquiet which I’ve written about here before. It probably works best as a bathroom reading book because it’s essentially a blog of one of his characters Bernardo Soares (or heteronyms as Pessoa likes to call them). Soares is an accountant working in the turn of the 20th century Lisbon, and his “diary entries” are quite existential and dreary. Gee, I wonder why I would gravitate towards that?

I guess these brief snippets have gotten me a tad bit glum the last couple of weeks despite the great warm weather we’ve been having. Or maybe it’s not being happy at the job. Or being broke. Or not having been fucked in a while. Or realizing what a stupid shithead the President is. Or going to a job interview, getting your hopes up then getting turned down emphatically. Or an impending birthday.

With taking care of The Grandmother for these past years, I keep thinking about how long I am going to live. Or, more accurately, how long I want to live. Everything is fine right now, but what about as I approach 60? 70? Will I even make it that long especially since I spent 16 years of my life as a heavy smoker (~ a pack a day.)

It’s sort of funny to stare at the hopelessness that most of us feel in this world.

Last night I did fall into the trap of watching the World Baseball Classic final since Team USA was playing. The last baseball game I watched was Game 7 of the World Series which was very thrilling. Although the WBC Final didn’t have the sphincter-clenching tension the World Series Game 7 had with Team USA beating Team Puerto Rico 8-0, it was still enjoyable to watch.

First, can we talk about the Puerto Ricans hair? As a show of unity they all decided to bleach (or attempt to bleach) their hair and facial hair.

I’m all for interesting ways to show team unity ¹, but I couldn’t help but think back to the awful frosted tips trend of the late 90s and early 00s. God, those were awful. Maybe that’s why the gods had them lose in such a devastating way.

As for the game, it was a pitchers’ duel for the first several innings which are my favorite games since they tend to breeze by. A two-run homer by Ian Kinsler in the third opened the scoring. But it was the three-run seventh inning that put the any doubts away.

What was pretty amazing was hearing how loud the Dodger Stadium crowd got. Those volumes are usually only reserved for playoff games.

¹ Actually, the thought of conformity utterly strikes fear in my heart which is why I never got into team sports. But I suppose these are things that are needed for team sports.

One of my favorite things to listen to recently while at work is my Spotify Daily Mix #3. A sample of the tunes this particular auto-generated playlist gives me:

Fad Gadget – Luxury
The Cure – Lovesong
Adam and the Ants – Puss N Boots
The Church – Under the Milky Way
Duran Duran – New Moon on Monday

You get the idea. It’s heavy on the 80’s new wave/new romantic nostalgia and fuck man, it really gets me through the day of futility and frustration.

I finished up Westworld last night, and it really irritated me. First off, the sheer amount of characters in it confused me a bit especially since I walked away from the show for about a month after watching the fourth episode. I still don’t understand how the robots were able to kill the humans with guns when we were told that humans are impervious to guns in this little world. Are the guns used in the world special guns that can only kill the bots, and finally real guns that could actually kill humans were smuggled in? And, most importantly, who gives a fuck?

When I finished it last night, I really didn’t think much about it. But now it seems that I’m quite angry about the show. I mean, really, the show was a 10-hour long Jurassic Park with robots instead of dinosaurs. 10 fucking hours!

Last week on Facebook, Tyson posted that he took in a cat-hoarding agoraphobic neighbor’s cat after said neighbor died a few weeks ago. The cat died a few days later, sadly, but thinking about the old agoraphobic cat-hoarding neighbor, I realize that that could be me. So what did I do this weekend to combat this unfortunate end?

I stayed home, watched tons of movies and tv shows and made my spaghetti sauce. Yeah, I’m really doing a great job combatting what I’m assuming to be my fate.

That said, I got through half of Santa Clarita Diet (inoffensive fluff) and am almost done with the first season of Westworld (the show thinks it’s more interesting than it really is.) I watched What We Do in the Shadows (pretty fun), I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore (a bit dull, but I found myself having a strange attraction to Elijah Wood), Krisha (pretty good first feature film), Nowhere (perhaps my favorite movie of all time) and Sausage Party (typical Rogen/Franco haunt.)

Speaking of Elijah Wood, I remember running into him once at a Scissor Sisters show at the Wiltern back in 06 or something like that. My friend Nicole had tickets and I had nothing to do that night, so we went. I remember seeing Elijah jump up and down in so much dancing ecstasy. We both giggled at that. We ended up leaving after four songs since neither of us liked Scissor Sisters and it was jarring for me seeing these muscle queens wearing pink boas and thinking they were flamboyant.

Here is a text exchange I had on Saturday where the other party was drunk while I was sober. I need to be far less sober in my life.