2001-11-29 - 12:23 p.m.

There's been a bit of goings-on around here, and it's time for another update. I'm going for the scatter-shot approach, mentioning a couple of events in November, getting them on paper before I forget them. I have read that pre-literate societies that hear about literate ones have a peculiar reaction sometimes: the pre-literati laugh that the literate peoples have such terrible memories that they have to write everything down so they don't forget. They can't hold a story, recite it, remember it for generations, without losing it in the jumble of living. Maybe thet's true: I feel the need to get this down, all of it, because I'll forget when it happened, how it happened, that it happened. Don't want that to happen, do I?

In early November, before I went to NYC, I think, I went down to South Beach with my Uncle and my Dad. The Uncle was visiting the area, and wanted to catch up a bit. Had fun. Drank heavily, but not enough to get really drunk. He got plastered, gave me advice, talked about life and what it meant, and women and ways to watch out for them, and aging and our incredible luck at being men, who age better than women. He had been divorced for a couple of years by then, his children were growing up with their mother, who had divorced him in undefined circumstances relating to money. He was, and is, bitter about it. But he is bitter because he loved, and maybe still loves, her, married her, and then everything fell apart anyway. Life kicked him, through her, but it's more his fault for having got married. That's, I think, the way he sees the situation. I saw him in 3-D for the first time then. Over the last several years that's happened a lot, as I see my relatives in a new and equal light, making my own judgements, and seeing whether or not I owe them my friendship in addition to my love. And I have been lucky enough to say 'YES' to that. They have shown their faults, which are like mine, their fears, which are like mine, their faces unhidden by censorship for the young, which are like mine. They are family, and I have a much better understanding of what that means now.

I auditioned for a casting on Monday, $500 if I get it. Got the call-back today, scheduled for tomorrow. If I get it, I pledge every cent from it to Billy. I really like the idea of paying Billy back through acting-money. In a way, it's sort of a double blessing: I pay him back, which is good, and I justify the faith he has put in me since we were small, always believing in my ability to do something with myself. I think he appreciates acting more than I do, he has a sense of the wonder and awe just from looking at it that I had to work at for years to grip. Besides, this gig is probably my only chance to pay him back in good time: I made $16 on Teusday, and I have no reason to expect mush more tonight. The restaurant is dying, and I need a new job.

I got in touch with a great friend of mine again after a couple months of incommunicadodom, mostly my own fault. His name is Ethan, and he shares the distinction of being one of those friends whom distance and time do not affect. We could be apart for years, meet again, and pick up right where we left off, arguing, discussing, and generally finding each other fascinating. There are about 10 people in this world I can say that about, including family. They are friends, not aquaintances, forever. You get more of those as you go along, and redefine what friendship is and what it means. Good deal.

A Christmas Carol is going along: I've got a song to sing in it, which will be the first time I've sung professionally, and even amasteurishly since high school. Should be interesting. Scrooge himself is a great guy, but a terrible actor. Most of the actors are really singers branching out. I'm a little worried, but more excited about seeing what happens. I think that's about it, I'll write more later when I think about things a bit more. Until then, good luck.

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