A Week in the Life of Gustavo

"Seems to think that if he fails to write, la migra will find him."--OC Weekly More merriment available at ronmaydon@yahoo.com

sábado, fevereiro 07, 2004

Smithers, Have the Rolling Stones Killed...

So this is how Birthday Week is shaping up:


Ignored the Rag's fabulous burlesque show in favor of the Philly cheesesteaks at Jon's Philly Grill with the Boys and Their Girls. I think everyone liked their food--at least they say they did. I know I did--I staggered out in a food coma so serious I'm still babbling right now (look, this is my stream-of-consciousness journal, so I can't be expected to say hilariously stupid things all the time). After that, went back to Johnny Arthur's place to see American Splendor. Coke Man and Library Girl gave me a gift certificate; Johnny Arthur and Marge gave me a gift certificate and Amores Perros. Thought is appreciated, but the only gift I wanted from Uds. Uds. gave to me: your company and good food.

The conversations were dorky as usual. No one can see me be a radical activist, just as my lefty friends cannot believe I'm a Howard freak (Stern, not Dean). Stenographer Gal once again reiterated what so many have told me--I'm intimidating. She didn't say it in an insulting way, just honest. So we had a conversation about that. Wonderful, wonderful times.


Drove up PCH from Corona del Mar to Seal Beach in search of good restaurants. Mission accomplished. Along the way, an epiphany came to me: I need to go out more. And that is what shall happen tonight, as I'm meeting some people in Little Saigon for an interview, then afterwards attending an art exhibit of a friend in downtown SanTana. And to conclude the evening, I'm dancing at JC Fandango.

Pray for me.