The goddamn quilt shop I was romancing decided to go with the roaster in Little Falls. Fuck! I am so mad right now I can hardly see straight.
"They were more convenient," was the excuse.
What could be more fucking convenient than a roastery that's only three blocks away?
Linda, the lady I was working with, got removed from the project by the bitchy owner of the building, then bitchy owner of the building decided to go with that goddamn fucker from Little Falls. God, I hate that asshole and I've never even met him.
I hate this shit. I feel like I was stabbed in the fucking back and it sucks!
I want to just fucking cry. How the fuck am I supposed to make it in this goddamn business? If it isn't a fucking Caribou or Dunn Brothers going into all the fucking strip malls that keep getting built, it's that fucker from Little Falls trying to take my business away from me.
It just makes me want to fucking quit. But, of course, I can't because I owe too many people too much money.
My little 1996 Ford Aspire crossed over 200,000 miles tonight!
Every time I turn the key to start that thing I think it's going to be the last, but she continues to surprise me. One of these days she will give up the ghost, but for now she seems to be doing just fine.
I hope we make it to 240,000 miles, that's the distance to the moon.
Wow. I'm just stunned. Anyone who has had anything to do with community theater in St. Cloud in the past 20 years has worked in some capacity with Seth Parent. And I am sure there are many people who drive around here who saw him riding around on his custom 3-wheel motorcycle with the quarter-barrel beer kegs as gas tanks.
Seth always got the bad guy roles. Well, just look at him, the dark eyes, the goatee, the dark hair... he also had a love of medieval weaponry and a penchant for magic. He made a great bad guy. But he also had a funny, intelligent part that we all got to see in rehearsal and read in his writing.
When he wasn't acting he worked. When I first met him he was working as a skinner at the Long Prairie slaughterhouse. He had to quit when his wrists just couldn't stand the strain anymore, I don't think anyone had thought of carpel tunnel syndrome back in those days. So he left the glamorous world of the abattoir for the bindery at Quebecor. I didn't know that he also judged high school speech competitions, I learned that by reading his obituary.
He died in his sleep last Friday, the 7th of September at the age of 50. That's only 7 years older than me. I guess we'd all like to go quietly in our sleep (well, most of us, anyway). I'm in a state of shock, that happens anytime someone I know dies, especially someone who was a colleague.
I wouldn't call Seth a friend, we were in some shows together and we attended a lot of the same cast parties, but we didn't hang out and we weren't buds. But that doesn't mean that his death doesn't have an effect me. We had a very good working relationship based on trust and reliability, we each knew that the other knew his job and would do it to the best of their ability. You never had to worry about Seth, he was a professional.
Seth D. A. Parent, 50
formerly of Little Falls
July 10, 1957 - Sept. 7, 2007
Seth D. A. Parent previously of Little Falls Minnesota, passed unexpectedly in his sleep September 7th 2007. Seth was born July 10th 1957 in Foley Minnesota to Mary Joan Parent and Murray Xavier Parent. He graduated from Foley High School and attended St. Cloud State University. He was employed by Quebecor in St. Cloud until his recent move to Gallatin, TN. Seth was actively involved as a performer in St. Cloud Community theatre, and served on the board of directors for Troupe Theatre Company, and County Stearns Theatrical Company. He was an active and respected judge of High School Speech throughout the state of Minnesota. Seth also enjoyed participating in the annual March of Dimes Haunted House fundraiser.
Seth is preceded in death by his father Murray Xavier Parent.
Seth is survived by his wife, Chas (Gallatin, TN); son, Murray Jerome (St. Cloud); step children, Justin and Jolene (Little Falls); Additionally survived by his mother, Joan (Foley); sister, Joellen (Minneapolis); brothers, Sean (Foley) and Sam (Winona); numerous cousins, nieces, and nephews. He will be dearly missed.
Memorial services will be announced at a later date.
Rest in Peace, my friend.
I had a dream last night I was in a band that was hired to play nothing but college rousers.
The lady who hired us said, "I don't care how you play 'em, but just don't fuck with Illinois!"
I had another one of those dreams where I am in a play, but something bad happens. Usually it is being suddenly thrust upon the stage with no idea what the play is or what my lines are. This time I was "fully prepared" but was unable to get to the stage.
Here's the part I remember... I was standing on the stage with the director, who also was a member of my ex-boss' family and we were talking as the audience was just starting to trickle in. He made some comment about how some actors will work for almost nothing and I was about to make some sort of dirty joke when we both slipped and started sliding down the rather severe rake the stage had toward the orchestra pit. I remember thinking "protect your hands and wrists," because I need them to play guitar. We both fell in, it wasn't as deep as you'd expect an orchestra pit in a dream to be, I came out unscathed, but my knee had connected with his chin and he was in some pain. I helped him out of the pit and he motioned for me to go get ready.
I love the lack of logic in dreams, the dressing room was in a completely different building. As I got to my dressing area I found the director's wife sitting there. While I changed out of my hiking boots and into my dress shoes, I told her the story of falling into the orchestra pit and apologized for hurting her husband, she said it was no big deal and offered to drive me back to the theater. I accepted and we headed for her car, me wearing one boot and one shoe and carrying the other.
She didn't bring me straight to the theater, she brought me to a house where she was going to pick up the rest of her family. I didn't recognize the place and I asked someone where we were, explaining that the play was about to start and that I didn't have time to wait around.
"The theater is just 5 or 6 blocks in that direction," I was told.
So I started off, starting to panic. "Fuck! I don't have time to walk 6 blocks!" I recognized the area as being the South side of St. Cloud near the SCSU campus. As I got closer I had to work my way through a crowd, "Why do they hate me?" I muttered to myself and a passing girl asked what I meant. I tried to explain about the accident and the family as I continued my way through the crowd, but we had to part ways, "Well, thanks for listening, anyway..."
When I finally got to the building the theater was in it turned out to be my old high school, I found one of the nearest doors and asked the first person I saw how to get to the theater. "Just go down this hall, second door on the left," he replied, but when I got to the end of the hallway there was a weight room, not a theater.
I started asking everyone I saw "Where's the theater? I have to find the theater!!" and was met with "I don't know," "I won't tell you," and "Me no speaky English," among others. My stress level at this point was extremely high and I was desperate to find the theater! Finally someone agreed to tell me, but he had to look it up on the computer and print out a map. Oh! the anxiety!!
I woke up with a groan of frustration and lay there for a good long time while my heart rate returned to normal.
I'm willing to bet that anyone who appears on stage as part of their life, as I do, has had dreams like this. It's a familiar theme, I remember a "bad radio dream" about getting locked out of the building the studio was in while I was on the air (it actually happened once with only a short amount of dead air), I have had dreams of being in a band but not knowing the song, being in a play and not knowing the lines and now this. Funny thing is I haven't been in a play for over 10 years.
I guess some anxieties never go away.