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Showing posts from September, 2007

Fucking Bastards!

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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 peopl…

200,000 Miles!

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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.

RIP Seth Parent

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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…

Rah! Rah!

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!"

Performance Anxiety

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 th…