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:

FRIDAY

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.

TODAY:

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.