Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?
Does anybody really care?
So I haven't written an entry for a while and the penultimate entry was probably written well over two months ago. What does this say about me? Have I lost interest in documenting my life and feelings for the prying eyes of strangers? Have I been so tremendously busy that I just haven't taken a moment to sit down before my 17" monitor and type out a few words? Has my life been so truly uninteresting as to spare you the merciless details? Kidnapped by space aliens? Temporary sanity?
There is no real answer to the question. As seems to often be the case during extended periods of unemployment, my energies were more focused upon finding work and not allowing myself to sink into complete disarray. Last month (or maybe it was January) there was a week in which I actually had three job interviews scheduled. For about two weeks after that, life showed some promise. Then, slowly, one by one, I was informed (or not informed) that the positions had gone to other candidates. Was it me? Or were there just superior candidates? It's very difficult to ascertain and ultimately I suppose it just doesn't matter.
I'm not entirely screwed. I received a phone call from my former employer indicating that I was needed for an additional four weeks on the project I had left behind in June 2005. That has worked out well, once I got over the initial frustration of having to submit a urine sample for testing. It's good to fill the coffers, if ever so slightly. More importantly, it's nice to get up and out of bed in the morning knowing I have somewhere I have to be.That ends in a week. Then it's back to just making an effort to stay focused and active.
I participated in the SXSW film festival, and, once the music started, took afternoons off to wander around downtown in search of free booze and good music. This was not difficult at all, and, more importantly, I got to hang out a lot with Josh, who was making his first Austin return appearance since moving to Oakland in October of last year. None of the films blew my mind, although there were a few documentaries I thought were worthwhile: Life of Reilly, a film of Charles Nelson Reilly's one man stage show; Fired, a look at getting let go from jobs and the impact it has on peoples' lives; Fuck, an entertaining examination of the word and its usage. I was somewhat disturbed by The King, with Gael Garcia Bernal and William Hurt. I was surprised to enjoy Wah-Wah with Gabriel Byrne and Miranda Richardson as much as I did.
The music, on the other hand, was a joy, particularly as I did not pay a red cent for any of it (excepting the $5 donation to New Orleans musicians at the Town Lake gig). Dengue Fever was once again a high point - they were the first band I caught, Wednesday afternoon at the Red Eyed Fly. Of Montreal at Antones was stupendously absurd but also well-rehearsed and the 20 minute Apollo Sunshine set at Friends was unbeatable. I enjoyed what I could hear of Billy Bragg at Yard Dog; my friend overheard one of the better SXSW lines from a couple of crooked-toothed Brits: "It's too crowded. Let's go somewhere else and just say we were here." Nothing like a little patriotic support of a fellow countryman. I saw Neil Young wandering around Yard Dog during a set by the Ms a few days earlier. Everyone seemed to respect his privacy, generally gawking quietly to the person standing next to them (I did the same). Had a foiled attempt to catch Stan Ridgway at the Red Fez with my buddy, Neutrono. After force-drinking perhaps the worst caipirinha I've ever sampled, waiting and waiting for something to happen on the stage, we were told by a middle-aged couple who had inquired that Ridgway had cancelled. Our efforts to find another worthwhile act were almost foiled as we retreated from bar after bar until we ended up in the front of a crowd building on the corner of 6th and I think Neches for a New Orleans brass band that livened the street party for about forty-five minutes, until Austin's finest showed up and broke it up (peacefully).
I also was host to a band of Brits known as The Capes. I know, for anyone who has been a faithful follower of the Metaphysical Chattaqua, it seemed just this time last year that I would never allow another musician into my home for an overnight stay. This may still hold true with the Black Sun Ensemble, but The Capes and folks from their record label turned out to be terrific house guests and were quite friendly chaps at that. I managed to catch them one "morning" (1pm) at Threadgills and they sounded very good live.
Once my work with Freescale is complete once again, I'm hoping to turn my energies more toward writing. Keeping this journal is training; writing my screenplay will be the marathon. Laurels and Roses. More to follow.
So I haven't written an entry for a while and the penultimate entry was probably written well over two months ago. What does this say about me? Have I lost interest in documenting my life and feelings for the prying eyes of strangers? Have I been so tremendously busy that I just haven't taken a moment to sit down before my 17" monitor and type out a few words? Has my life been so truly uninteresting as to spare you the merciless details? Kidnapped by space aliens? Temporary sanity?
There is no real answer to the question. As seems to often be the case during extended periods of unemployment, my energies were more focused upon finding work and not allowing myself to sink into complete disarray. Last month (or maybe it was January) there was a week in which I actually had three job interviews scheduled. For about two weeks after that, life showed some promise. Then, slowly, one by one, I was informed (or not informed) that the positions had gone to other candidates. Was it me? Or were there just superior candidates? It's very difficult to ascertain and ultimately I suppose it just doesn't matter.
I'm not entirely screwed. I received a phone call from my former employer indicating that I was needed for an additional four weeks on the project I had left behind in June 2005. That has worked out well, once I got over the initial frustration of having to submit a urine sample for testing. It's good to fill the coffers, if ever so slightly. More importantly, it's nice to get up and out of bed in the morning knowing I have somewhere I have to be.That ends in a week. Then it's back to just making an effort to stay focused and active.
I participated in the SXSW film festival, and, once the music started, took afternoons off to wander around downtown in search of free booze and good music. This was not difficult at all, and, more importantly, I got to hang out a lot with Josh, who was making his first Austin return appearance since moving to Oakland in October of last year. None of the films blew my mind, although there were a few documentaries I thought were worthwhile: Life of Reilly, a film of Charles Nelson Reilly's one man stage show; Fired, a look at getting let go from jobs and the impact it has on peoples' lives; Fuck, an entertaining examination of the word and its usage. I was somewhat disturbed by The King, with Gael Garcia Bernal and William Hurt. I was surprised to enjoy Wah-Wah with Gabriel Byrne and Miranda Richardson as much as I did.
The music, on the other hand, was a joy, particularly as I did not pay a red cent for any of it (excepting the $5 donation to New Orleans musicians at the Town Lake gig). Dengue Fever was once again a high point - they were the first band I caught, Wednesday afternoon at the Red Eyed Fly. Of Montreal at Antones was stupendously absurd but also well-rehearsed and the 20 minute Apollo Sunshine set at Friends was unbeatable. I enjoyed what I could hear of Billy Bragg at Yard Dog; my friend overheard one of the better SXSW lines from a couple of crooked-toothed Brits: "It's too crowded. Let's go somewhere else and just say we were here." Nothing like a little patriotic support of a fellow countryman. I saw Neil Young wandering around Yard Dog during a set by the Ms a few days earlier. Everyone seemed to respect his privacy, generally gawking quietly to the person standing next to them (I did the same). Had a foiled attempt to catch Stan Ridgway at the Red Fez with my buddy, Neutrono. After force-drinking perhaps the worst caipirinha I've ever sampled, waiting and waiting for something to happen on the stage, we were told by a middle-aged couple who had inquired that Ridgway had cancelled. Our efforts to find another worthwhile act were almost foiled as we retreated from bar after bar until we ended up in the front of a crowd building on the corner of 6th and I think Neches for a New Orleans brass band that livened the street party for about forty-five minutes, until Austin's finest showed up and broke it up (peacefully).
I also was host to a band of Brits known as The Capes. I know, for anyone who has been a faithful follower of the Metaphysical Chattaqua, it seemed just this time last year that I would never allow another musician into my home for an overnight stay. This may still hold true with the Black Sun Ensemble, but The Capes and folks from their record label turned out to be terrific house guests and were quite friendly chaps at that. I managed to catch them one "morning" (1pm) at Threadgills and they sounded very good live.
Once my work with Freescale is complete once again, I'm hoping to turn my energies more toward writing. Keeping this journal is training; writing my screenplay will be the marathon. Laurels and Roses. More to follow.