really, I’m fine.

In case ya’ll are worried or something after my “cryptic” (E.Z.’s word) posting, here’s the thing: I had a job interview the other day that I didn’t feel too great about. My current job does not know that I’m seeking employ elsewhere (So keep your traps shut! You never know who you’re talking to.) The situation is analagous to (Ev, pay attention) the feeling I get when I break a plate: it is as if every plate (glass, bowl, casserole) I have ever broken is breaking at the same time. It brings sharply into focus all reasons why the plate was broken, all preventative measures that should’ve been taken, all the whys and hows of it, all the deep personal flaws that brought me to this point, all the money that I’ve spent replacing dishes and glasses. It pours lime juice into paper cuts. It’s about the interview, but it’s also about the fact that I’m even here. Read on: it’s my e-mail response to E.Z. about the thing.

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Yeah. Eh. I think I might’ve bombed. I was late for one thing…I called and stuff, because I messed up my route and then got lost, and was able to anticipate the fact that I was going to be late and let them know well ahead of time, but STILL. That’s yo INTERVIEW, GURRRL. You bet’ take a CAB. (This is my inner life coach. She is African-American, for some reason.)

Then the interview itself seemed sorta lackluster…like they were antsy, or not really focusing…I couldn’t quite put my finger on it…maybe it was because it was the last interview of the day, maybe they were tired, maybe they are shy and hate doing interviews, OR maybe they were mad that I was late and/or they knew in the first two minutes of talking to me that I was the wrong person for the job, and so they just had to go through the motions. I TOTALLY feel like I vibe with their way of doing things, being there made me ache for this job even more…[new realization: I also want everyone to be in love with me. Everyone. I mean, not really a new realization, but new as it pertains to this situation...]

Not just for this job, but for a change. For the next step…there is a new step in my life that is about to be born, and I’m just so fucking antsy for it to get going already. Something! It could be going abroad, but that’s going to take so long to get going…maybe I should focus more energy on that–God knows that’s going to be a shitload of work–and infusing myself into the writing community in Chicago while I’m here. Then just apply for jobs when I can, and then if I don’t find something new, maybe it won’t feel like my life is spinning its wheels so much. Ay, Eric, yo no se. I just know I need to move on SOMETHING. Step out on a limb a li’l bit. Step out on faith.

yummy yummy good

So last night, after Eric Z’s show at Schuba’s (lovely lovely), a band called Hopewell came on before Canasta comprised of some former Mercury Rev members. Have you ever seen a band that was so good and so…together, that at first you were snarkily tempted to not like them? Yeah. It was one of those. I kept looking for chinks, trying to be annoyed by things, cranky sleepy lady that I was, but man oh man, there just wasn’t anything to grab onto, and down I slid.

They came on, and Petra and I discussed that they were one of the most buttless bands we have ever seen. Very skinny. Like 60’s Stones skinny, significant daylight between the legs skinny, the guitarists and bassist, anyway (the keyboardist and drummer–man, were they great–were a little burlier). The singer squalled–whoops, there he went, a little bit higher–guitars crunchy crunched, drummer kept us all in suspense, then gave us just what we were waiting for, and the keyboards were exactly what we didn’t know we were missing, and the whole thing sailed right into my little heart. Rock rock rock. It was so easy to like that I was suspicious at first, that’s all. I don’t usually fall so quick. I got over it speedily.

During the first part of the set, the singer kept calling out the main themes of each song, and he’d list them off on his fingers: “Love, People Leaving, and now, God.”
“What about Murder?” Someone heckled.
“We’re gettin’ to that!” he called back, as the drummer counted off.