it only gets better

8/30/99-b

I shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. Except for that phone call, I was doing okay until I left the house. I practiced for a while, watched tv, talked to John, who called from a pay phone in Newfoundland. Then I finally mustered the energy to dress half-properly and drive down to the base to work out. Just told myself that I'd be sitting on my ass and reading, just like home, only my ass would be planted on a stationary bike.

I got kicked off the base! Well, I guess I wasn't kicked off, exactly, since they never let me on it in the first place. The guard said that my ID wasn't good enough, I need a base pass for my car. I asked him if that just started and he said no, it's been like that since July.

Hell. I can't get a pass until I renew my car registration. I've been putting that off because I didn't know where I was going to be living. That's not a problem anymore, I suppose, because I got my rejection letter from the River City Brass Band today. Damn it all. This whole round was based on a one-page resume, and I want to know what happened—my resume's pretty hot. Sure, I'm not very old, and my professional experience column is shorter than it could be, but it's also LONGER than it could be. I've played with the Detroit Symphony, for fuck's sake, what were they looking for? There aren't many people more qualified than me who'd be willing to take a job for $24 grand a year.

Okay, I don't have brass band experience. It's damn hard to get experience when you have to work a day job just for money. Damn it, I was just starting to have fun practicing again, I finally made it past the creaky, rusty stage. I guess it means I can quit my job that much sooner.

So I came home within half an hour of leaving, and ate bad bad things for dinner. Seems like every little thing is justification for me to descend into nutritional debauchery, lately. John's gone, I eat frozen pizza for breakfast. Lose a gig, and I binge on cheesecake in front of HBO. I'm so weak. Pretty soon, just the weak feeling will be enough to cause me to curl up with Cheetos for dinner. This must stop.

Well, really, how can anyone watch Sex and the City without eating cheesecake?