Bad call

No, nah, take it back. I < 3 Julian. And the club is all right. $200 for 3 hours of dancing and sitting around and talking to actually okay people tonight.

Elena, however. Again haven't spoken to in a month. Calls me here when I got home, which is 5 am her time, clearly drunk, starts rambling for half an hour about her phone getting stolen and the ex boyfriend, soon as I start talking she spaces off and puts me on hold, comes back on and I'm like you must be tired, do you wanna go? And she's like, well no, I wanna talk, I mean soon yeah, cuz it's late, but no, I was like why don't we just talk another time. And she's like, Why, really? Tell me, no! I'm like There's nothing to tell, you're tired, we'll talk another time. She's like Okay but call me! I'm like your phone got stolen, you call me. She's like okay I will! Bye! And I just hung up.

I mean, it's really disgusting to me at this point.

How self-absorbed and childish and thoughtless and frivolous she's become. I'm fucking over it.

All work and no Play, boy.

I think.

That you guys are right.

I had two hours of sleep last night, I just couldn't sleep, and I was so tired, but I ended up writing a lot of music... I'm kinda stoked about it... ks I'm gonna link you too... LOL.

And I had made plans to go real early in the morning to a dance class and then yoga right after with Celine... I gotta keep myself busy now and I wanna stay in touch with my friends, especially decent classy people... and I finally gave the damn super so much hell, I mean not hell, just like, listen up asshole, no more fucking around or trying to get over on me. And I came home and ALL my shit was fixed. All the clogged sinks and the missing screen and everything.

I hadn't worked out in ages and I ran all the way to the class and then swam cuz I was early and deposited my check in the bank and then did the classes and man-- I love dancing so much-- I love it onstage but I mean this class was like hardcore salsa and I forgot how much FUN dancing is and how much I used to love it before I got so burnt out with the ballet...

And Celine's real cool...

And I'm thinking-- I can't even tell like 99% of these people about my JOB. If I started doing Playboy shit, I mean... There's no hiding that and Kris you're right, it would change the way I see myself, and it would change everything, and for what, $500 bucks? And then a future being a bl0wup doll?

And Bathwater yes. I'm making myself start eating. Pizza sounds amazing but out here on the west coast, well, it's like the same as it was in pennsyltucky... but I lived in NYC when I was in the company and I KNOW pizza. so maybe mexican?

love and lotsa carbs,

S-O

actually part 2

i love you guys. thanks so much for your comments... you're right it was a low point and i need to start dealing with those better because the self-flagellating is pointless. but i'm, thanks to beautiful spirits, and thanks to J, getting better at coping with my lows.

i made myself go to sunny's. i'm so glad i did. it was great, and i got em to come too, and it was a mexican bar with BuildYourOwnBloodyMary's and 7 years of bartending experience (yes I started when I was 17) I've perfected my Bloody. to a science. so everyone kept asking me to make them a Bloody and then the bartenders loved me cuz i was bringing in the loot for them... and one was really hot and i gave him my number. Sunny's friends are sweet, and Sunny is an angel, a total lightweight who always gets drunk at her birthday and is a really really SWEET drunk. i, having not eaten all day, got drunk off my one Bloody, too.

and then I went straight to work, and Vinnie wasn't pissed at all, just a sweetheart to me as always. tonight was a workout and a half. i probably spent 3 hours out of 4 actually dancing, cuz there were only 4 girls there and i gave a bunch of table dances too. i was sweating my ass off on the walk home. i made like $400 too. and it was a dead night. thank GOD.

i ran into my two gay neighbors on the way home and they were loaded up and we chatted for like 20 minutes and one's a mechanic and gonna look at my car for free.

i feel better. but my phone is just straight NOT working anymore. it's bad. i need to figure that out. and i was gonna pay my rent right now but i cannot find my damn checkbook. so i'm gonna look for it tomorrow. it's 3 here.

Fourth of July

So, today is the fourth of July, and I was invited up to Mal-au-booboo, but I am not going... Cuz I really gotta go to work.

Vinnie called me again Friday night as I was on my way to my show and actually sounded kinda pissed, even though I'd left him a buncha messages last week saying I had this show, etc... and I really, really need to make some dough. I was gonna go last night but I woke up yesterday feeling a little sick, so I texted him and he said it was fine... But I gotta go tonight. If we're open that is, which I assume we are...

Also it's my friend Sunny's birthday. Sunny, as I said, is an angel, who came to my show Friday and also gave me a ticket to this play yesterday that was really awesome. So she's having a get together Im gonna go to for a couple hours before work... Sigh, work. I'm so overit right now.

Friday's show actually went awesome, N and C and Emmy and an old friend from an acting class I took, Christine, was there with her boyfriend, and Sunny and a guy I was gonna work on some music with and his boyfriend, and a friend E who came to my last show that I met at the club... there was an audience there too, but other than that, none of my "friends" who CONFIRMED they'd be there for the second time.

So I was just in a hideous mood. Just hideous.

When I saw how late it was running, and how many FRIENDZ didn't show up, I was just like, to the sound guy, just cancel it, you might as well shut down, and he was like, well Leo's coming to see you (the club guy/booker), and he never leaves his house.

But I went up, and they let me play a way longer set, and people were actually singing along to some of my covers, and I got a bunch of cards after... and Leo talked to me after, and said he wanted to talk to me about my music. I just assumed, he was hitting me, cuz that's the way of this goddamn world. But then I talked to him, and he wrote me this really eloquent straight-up e-mail in response saying Yeah I thought you were attractive, I'm not gonna lie, but when I heard you I was seriously impressed. I've started the careers of a lot of well known artists. You should ask around about me. I wouldn't do that because it would hurt my reputation musically, and my integrity, more importantly. But I respect you for throwing it out there... Sure I'd like to hang out and get to know you but music comes first.

And I did ask around about him. And it's good.

He wants to play a show together at a couple really popular here, like his band and mine (or me rather, band lackthereof), and he can get anyone to come... So... we'll see... He also told me I need a band, strings and drums (and he described the kind of drumming -"textures"- my word!) and I am totally stoked.

But we'll see.

Right now I'm in a shit mood cuz my throat still hurts and I have so much to do.

ShakeUp, BreakUp, WakeUp, MakeUp

So tonight was the night of legend of making jack-shit.

There was no one in there except my regular who writes on the show and whose wife texted me pretending to be him, and who maybe reads this blog, and who doesn't tip except a bunch of singles when you're onstage, which is more than anyone else was doing tonight.

It was literally dead.

I was thinking about going, and when Vinnie called me, I decided to go, so that at least, with my comings and goings, at least I could be reliable in that way, as on-call... But after a few hours I decided I had to get out of there and he told me to go ahead and not to worry about the house fee. He let me go out the back too so the reg wouldn't see me leaving cuz he seemed to think I wanted to leave with him and his friend and hang out. They're writers. " ". And the thing is they're not witty or smart at all.

I talked with Summer a lot, the only girl who speaks to me, the only girl with whom I'd like to speak, the only other girl who comes and goes like me... She's awesome, she's smart, she used to be a really big agency model and date a really famous genius tv writer, and she's usually always joking and chipper and sometimes rues about where life's taken her. We think alike.

Me and Cam made up. I called to apologize and say I was in meltdown mode, and he said he was only being dickish because he wants to travel too, but we shouldn't go until our work takes us there...

He's half-right. I mean if the trip had been better planned, I totally could've done it. Whether he'd have considered that enough "paying my dues" or not. I've been all over the world, sometimes work took me there, other times, men. Sometimes, just my own saving up because it was what was important.

Anyway. Now that I'm not going it's all cool.

I'm glad though.

This thing with Elena, I mean, I still love her, but, she has so much pride I don't know how she'll be, and even more prideful if she feels guilty, and she feels guilty all the time. I never feel guilty. It's a useless emotion. But anyway. Not good to be fighting with two friends at once... Means you're definitely doing something wrong.

So it's still only midnight and I'm home, and I made a couple bucks for cigarettes and food, which I don't know if I should get cuz I ate like a straight PIG yesterday and the day before. But anyway. That's thirty bucks I wouldn'tve had if I stayed home.

F.

Heartraced again, bank account viewage... Like, I HAVE to work tonight, I mean, I won't be able to tomorrow or the day after, but I have for the last 3 nights except for that stupid wedding night, and all I've been doing is working and panicking, and I feel like I should do something nice for myself, but, I mean, it's like I slacked off forever but now I'm just machinegunned and I'll burn out even worse so. Ohgod. My heart is RACED to Allah right now. If I just go to work I won't be heartraced, just super burnt out, if I drive out to the beach, well, I dunno if I'll even be able to relax, oh man oh manny oh manny.

Burnout

Well, I'm done. DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Done with the semester. I completed it, as impractically and ineffectively as possible. But it's done. It's done, and I don't have to worry about homework and papers and getting up in the morning ever again, for a while.

I must admit it feels good to be done. I went to work last night too. And got up at 9 45 today-- the exam was at 9-- and my prof was so sweet and was just like, here, catch your breath, are you ok? And I told him after I handed it in that I'm going to Moscow and he told me all kinds of places to go.

I have a little time now. I can relax now. I've paid everything up and finished school. I'm filming this week. J called me. I'm not gonna talk about him anymore. I can see Cam, I can play piano, I can maybe see my Armenian boyfriend. I can work every night without having to get up and knowing I should be studying....

Oh man, I was just on the phone with Elena, and started stressing a little, she's talking about men all cynical, I told her I stopped seeing J, she's like, talking about how bad that was for me, I called her yesterday crying just about how stressed out I was about the money, and she was like this is good, you're finally learning, that music and writing are just not practical things, and I was like, but this is hell, and she was like, but that's life, and she was like, trust me, I've been there-- she has not been there, she doesn't even know what I do, and she'd be judgmental about it-- and she has really bad relationships all the time and she's like 15 years older than me and I'm thinking no, I am NOT you.... anyway. I just got done with all this shit and I don't want to be on the phone. I want to maybe just drive to the beach and sit there alone. Yes. That's what I want to do. It'll be such a long drive, but...

Jo was totally MIA today, didn't go to the exam, and isn't answering the phone... She had a lot to make up, it seemed kinda impossible, but it's a shame...

Beautiful calm driving.

P called me while I was at work, I finally just got myself to GO.

I've been a mess this month, is what it is. I've been a complete and utter mess, and it's been an inopportune time to be sloppy, but... All's rather fair in love and war.

What happened is I let my finances go, I haven't even looked at my bank statements in a month... I've hardly gone to work... I racked up over $500 in parking tickets- well, no, a lot more than that- over the last several months and just procrastinated paying them because I thought they were fixer tickets, but I procrastinated fixing too, getting my registration taken care of, and all that, and I really never think about money but now and then I end up in this place. Like. Oh god. Oh, my god. How will I pay my bills.

So that's where I'm at.

But no more. No more drinking. No more Vicodin. No more procrastinating sloppy-assedness. School is over but I have these two exams, and I'm gonna study, and I'm gonna do my remaining work, and I'm gonna go to work as many nights as I can, and go to open mics with Cam, and play again, and do this movie, and pay my bills, and get a desk. And Jo's gonna come with me so I do it, and we're gonna go to this damn wedding. And I'm gonna do my movie.

I'm gonna do it.

I went to work tonight, finally, and it was cool, no big money but it was fine, I met a cool artist there... and then P called me so I went over to see him and mess around a little and asked if he could help me out with rent again and he's going to.

And when I was driving there, listening to the mix that I made for Julian, in my stripper clothes under a sweatshirt, onto highways unknown, and the moon was so bright, and there were so many clouds, and it was finally warm... I felt it again... I felt free.

Wolf! Wolf! Wolf, wolf, wolf...

After some thought... or maybe just 12 hours of a gradual return to my heart's BPM, at four in the morning, I reali3ed: What the F. At the rate he's offering me, I can totally afford to pay once a week out-of-pocket. It's not even an issue. What the F. I was thinking like, I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sure he'll have some ideas... Though I don't know if he'll share them...

Of course before that revelation, after sitting in his office in shock-- ("Well, I'm going to give you some tests to show as further evidence, and another alarmingly worded letter, though they don't seem to respond to that, and, otherwise, we can work something out, I mean... I guess I'm avoiding the feelings brought on by this by suggesting ways around it...")-- I took the tests, and watched another patient enter his office... and went home and bawled, and wrote a few e-mails, all about how I knew this was going to happen, and maybe it meant something, and I'd been thinking about it, and I needed to talk to him before deciding anything... I called his office and he didn't call back... which is weird, and inconsiderate. I'd assume he was trying to get rid of me except that he told me he thinks I should be coming in twice, and is offering me a price like one third of what he would normally charge, and is going through some lengths to appeal these evil people. But then at 4 a.m. I just had a panic about not seeing him, and as I wrote him to please not change my time slots, I reali3ed that actually paying for the second session was not a big deal at ALL.

That's what I got. Last night I saw Cam, who I haven't seen in like 6 months either. I'd thought about him on Thursday, because the stupid teenage vampire romance novel I'm reading has a character whose description couldn't be anyone BUT Cam, among other things... And the next day, he wrote me, out of the blue. He's a model, and he was on this TV show, and now he's doing some music video and wants me to be in it. He picked me up after Psych (oh- to which I was late again- not even by much- like 10 minutes out of a 3 hour class, but of course during those 10 minutes he gave a qui3 that someone told me was worth half the exam. DUDE. If I get like 100's on the exams and don't get an A, I'll go on a killing spree... I don't care much about grades, hell, I'm 23 and just starting community college, but, F, I'm paying for it, and I need like a perfect GPA to transfer to the really good state school with a scholarship, should I actually continue with this school thing, though I'd have to change a lot to really do it, because at the rate of 2 classes a semester, it's going to take me 78 or 79 years to get there. Anyway.)- he was really late, but looked incredible as always, and we went to a bar, and he got me a couple drinks, and he was really nice and complimentary and sweet, as he always has been to me... Really like that character in the book, who is the ultra seductive teen foil to the protagonist chick and he fated true love-- i.e. Satan.

I sent Philip Stone* my music website. He responded first thing this morning and said he sent it out to some people he knows. I was tossing and turning all night and when I saw I had an e-mail at the time of morning I looked and I was so thoroughly stoked. He's AWESOME. And truly, the best writer around right now. Truly. I'm not the only one who thinks so... some huge lit publications have said so too... the best to have emerged in a decade, and stuff. So I'm really pretty stoked.

I slept through class today but I had to. I got back from drinks w Cam at like 2 30 despite my insistence that it was a schoolnight. I had a lot of fun though. He talks a LOT. But he's really gorgeous and his attention feels pretty good too.

*Obviously.

Three Martini-Lunch

I really should NAE be blogging. I should close my eyes, like they were on their own an hour ago, and f#$*ing go to sleep for once. But. In brief. (My idea of brief.)

Slept about four hours. Had to call in a radio show in the morning ("morning") to yap about myself since they were playing my stuff.

Ran six miles, to the hooker store, to buy my new shoes (CHOICE) and some outfits for work.

Took the bus back. Had a show at a hipster club, thought I had to be there at quarter to eight, in fact had to be there a half hour before that, thought they had a piano, in fact I had to bring my KK, don't have a case... Had to leave the second I got home, unshowered (two days, after a six mile run) or dressed or made-up, unpracticed, unprepared to drag KK and its accoutrements ANYWHERE... I had, for some reason, kept the cardboard Yamaha box he came in, so I stuff him and his stand in there, and the sustain pedal and a/c cables, and dumped my new shoes and clothes in to my huge stripper sack, and lugged the lot of it downstairs toward my car. The thing is like a 2x4 and everything probably weighed 100 pounds together, and a dude stopped up near me and offered me a ride to my car, thank god, he was a keyboardist too... So I got to my car, sped like a maniac to the Strip, couldn't find a spot to save my life, ran in, the weight of the world under my arm and probably my eyes, and- BLOODY HELL. My adapter and pedal were no.where. NO.WHERE.
BLOODYBLOODYBLOODYMARYHELL.
I even drove back and looked between my front door and where the guy stopped, not there, I only pray it fell out of the cardboard contraption in his car... If not it means they were picked up off the ground within like a half an hour... which seems unlikely... and if anyone is like, This girl is STUPID, letting strange men pick her up, etc, well, yeah, it might sound that way but I've always been trusting in that regard and it's never (knock on wood) failed me. He wouldn'tve stolen the stuff, it's pretty much worthless, except to me, on a night of a show, when no one else had a piano. We hadn't exchanged numbers but I gave him my card and prayed he'd call or e-mail at some point while I sat there, having found them, and bring them by. But alas. But I ended up talking to this guitarist and taught him the chords to one, one and a half-ish songs, and he was awesome... And... I was kind of nervous about this place, or would have been if I weren't so harebrained, and it ended up being REEEEALLY unimpressive. All the shows I've played here have been... to tell the truth... I dunno... Haven't done that many.

Anyway. I drove right to work from there though Carlos (the guitar player) invited me to come play another club, but I need the damn money so I can buy another ac and sustain tomorrow (ugh) and after the clothes today, and I realized, I can come in at 11 if I want. Really. I won't, cuz that's a jerky move, but I truly could. And I actually was really in the mood to, with all my new gear. And it was so fun dancing and actually being able to dance now that my shoes aren't hanging on my feet by a millimeter of clear plastic, and totally treadworn threatening to flip me on my ass every step... And I made a ton of money. Stupid ton. I've made a ton every night I've gone in this month. I just haven't gone in that many... I think that's part of it...

And I probably drank 6 vodkas in 2 hour, and then went to the diner with a fancy namedropping dude who invited me, and ate like a pig, and my eyes started to close. Here I am. Going to sleep. NOW.

Love and ladies of the night,

Scarlet-O

Ten Cents a Dance

Ten cents a dance
That's what they pay me
Gee, how they weigh me
Down...

I bet after adjusting for inflation since 1930, Ella and I get paid about the same for our services... and it might as well be monopoly money in either case, hell, she is complaining about it. Hear, hear, sister. Actually it is monopoly money. A lot of the men buy, with their real money-- or, usually, with their company card-- wads of fake cash with the club's name printed on it, which they use to tip us, which we exchange at the end of the night for real cash with a 20% cut. I guess the point is that they can use their company cards, and get drunk, and start feeling like it is just monopoly money (it is), and spend freely since they can't very well hang onto it and give it to the wife to get groceries the following day. I know it's good for the club, and maybe for us too, even with the exchange rate. But it's peanut money anyway. And there are still those who come in and say they can't afford a dance, and watch, and don't tip, and chat away like it's Match.com. Come on dude, at least fork over the thimble.

But I made out pretty well last night, like I usually do when I stumble in late, dragging ass, forgetting my makeup bag, all sorts of overit, and finish my first gin and ginger before I even get up on stage.

I used to be a real dancer, classically trained real-life ballerina, and it translates, though chaine turns and grand plies would be ridiculous in fishnets, to Danzig, and sliding upside-down down a pole was a move I had to learn onstage, on air, without a teacher. It was easy though... I like to think the dance training helped. So it's actually fun for me. This gig. And, more importantly, it's the easiest job in the world. Lax schedule, short hours, low expectations, no micromanaging bosses; we're independent contractors in a kind of co-op situation where we actually pay for the luxury of working there, with that 20% cut and a significant house-fee to boot. Perfect job for free-thinkers and lazy people.

And, though I would never say it, I feel that Dr. Julian Darcy and I have quite a bit in common, professionally. I pay him an exorbitant fee for 45 minutes of his company, he listens to me, he acts like he cares, and then when my time is up he holds open the back door for me as I leave, closes it behind me, takes a breather at his desk, maybe calls the girlfriend, and sets up for the next pretty hysteric. ...They pay me a comparably exorbitant sum (after doing the arithmetic, it can be even twice or three times more per minute, but that doesn't include the unpaid time sitting, chatting, lubing up for expenditure-- just trust me, it's peanut-money) for my company, I listen to them, I act like I care, like I'm fascinated, titillated, dance around on them with my contrived-genuine lust, never take my eyes off them (while a rectangular bouncer does the same), lead them out of the back room, and head over to the dressing room to smoke, text, whine, or sometimes even read, and stroll back out onto the floor to troll for the next victim.

I would never say it, because it would be a damn insulting thing to say, and because I know Julian is light-years beyond me, and does real things, and is actually helping me and would help me more if I had a real malady other than a serious crush or real true love for him. And he does lots of other things and is very respected in his field, and it's just beyond comparison and I'm not even comparing. The previous paragraph was, well, one long comparison, but... well, only in my twisted little universe. Point is, really, just that sometimes I'm doing multiplication tables in my head when talking and laughing with these monkey-men, but sometimes I meet men there I really do like quite a bit. I've even dated a couple. There was one I met that I totally fell for and ended up seeing for a while, turned out to be a lying, philandering asshole, of course, but to his own credit he warned me he would. I told Julian about him the day after we met, joking warmly that he was the first person who'd ever complimented my clunker when he drove us from the club to a diner down the street and J briefly dropped the poker-face to look at me like I just came crashing down onto his couch through the roof in a Soviet spacesuit, cradling the corpse of Laika in my arms.

"Do you even know anything about this guy?"

Errrrp... I did not, no. I do now, again, thanks to my knack for espionage. But, no.

"Well, maybe a guy you meet at the dance club is not the best candidate for a positive relationship."

He always says "dance club," never "strip club," and only once said "dumb stripper bitches" ironically, after I said it, also ironically, to qualify a certain type of girl. He never swears, either. I don't swear much myself, but I find that I do it more when I talk to him. I guess he gets me going. Speaking emphatically.

I'm seeing him tomorrow. I'm not as nervous as I've been before the last several sessions, because last time was normal, while the times before were... not exactly. I won't explain now but something had intensified and reached boiling temperature I guess, and now it's subsided, which, is sorta cool, and sorta sucks.

Anyway. Check in later maybe, with my audience of none. Off to make my red hair redder.



Love and late-night diversions,

Scarlet O.