This was a Mike Keneally thing. It was a tribute to Frank Zappa for his 50th birthday.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Last night I got the word to come back to work — Stu had finally told <name withheld> it was over.  I feel pretty bad about it even though I know the guy was so incompetent he couldn’t even answer the phone.  So I came in this morning, and there was <name withheld> at his desk, and I didn’t know why.  Seems Stu had told him to take Thursday off, and just come in Friday to get his stuff.  He said he forgot that it was Thursday he was supposed to take off and not Friday. I mean, the poor guy screwed everything up until the very end. And the whole time he thought it was just Ginny that had a problem with his work performance, and she doesn’t even work with him.  I feel bad, but he’s really short a few cards.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Melissa got back from her leave of absence yesterday.  I showed her the computer and how to make estimates on Lotus. She figured it out right away.  They were supposed to fire <name withheld> today but nothing happened as usual, so I’m taking tomorrow off also.  (I took today off because I didn’t want to be around for the fireworks, so to speak.) Ginny said I could take them as business days.  So fine! I had to go to the dentist anyway.  Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet with Cheryl of Songsmith Productions — I’m not keeping my hopes up, but I might as well meet her.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Yesterday was my 27th birthday.  I had lost my money card the night before so we had no money to do anything special, but it was nice anyway.  Mama sent me a Big Red treasure chest full of six jugs of the stuff.  Station!  It’s so groovy I’m gonna put towels in it.  Bill gave me some Bill & Ted’s trading cards. Today Sue gave me a groovy bracelet with big yinyangs, I love it.

Bill’s brother Mike is coming to see us next Saturday, and then on Sept. 20th Tom Radtke’s coming up for Kraftwerk.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Wow! I read that back, and it seems like a million years ago, not four days.  No wonder I can’t even remember when it was that something happened; I cram so much shit into my life that it seems like I’m living a month for every two weeks that go by.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Well, things are pretty bleak right now.  I am broker than I’ve ever been in my whole life. Today’s Bill’s birthday and he has to take us out to dinner.  Work was yet another day of sheer hell.  No time for lunch, and only enough money for a hot dog anyway. Worst of all, I checked my bank balance.  My rent check is definitely going to bounce.  Well, why don’t I wait a week or so and see if the bank pays it or not.  Maybe they will, knowing I have direct deposit money coming on the 14th.  What if they return it unpaid to the realty place? This has never happened to me before.  I certainly can’t pay it right now!

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Bill’s gig went okay.  It was him and Zwicky and Matt on guitar & wa-wa, and Paul on bari sax. Even before they started, Nora (the owner’s girlfriend and co-proprietor) came up to them and warned them to play really quiet.  Ha ha. Like, the essence of their music is noise, how are they supposed to do it quietly?  So they wouldn’t let them play until 10:45.  They played for an hour, and everybody was clapping, but they all left during the second set.  I wish I had some girlfriends in this neighborhood.  I talked to Robin a little last night, and met a girl named Zoe who makes cool clothes.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Oooh — how synchronistic that I should mention Pee Wee in the last passage.  Because over the weekend he got arrested for jacking off in a porno movie place.  His own lawyer said to the press: His career is over.  Finished.  Man, I would FIRE that fuckin’ lawyer if I was him.  Bill is out right now buying Pee Wee items on a speculation thing.  It’s incredible — instead of saying "this guy has a problem and is getting counselling," they go and proclaim his excommunication from the public eye.  I can’t get over his own lawyer saying that.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I spent the entire day yesterday thinking it was Wednesday and how that typing lady was supposed to call me back and give me the job-or-no-job verdict.  Well, now it really is Wednesday and she never called anyway.

Anyhow, Melissa finally called me today, and now I’m not so sure.  She’s definitely coming back for the first week in September, which seems just around the corner.  She’s all enthusiastic about us working together in the music department, really kicking some butt.  And Danny totally wants me to stay, it’s like unthinkable for me to leave.  So I told him flat out that I needed to know, one way or another, and soon, so I can "start" (ha ha) to look for something else.  I also said I needed more money.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Man.  Is it ever hot.  This is something like the 7th day in a row of upper-90s weather.  Feels like we’re in Burma or something.  I had a good time this weekend though.  I spent a lot of money though.  I bought a new eye exam and new lenses for my black round frames, which will be ready Mon. or Tues.  We went and saw Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey and it was pretty most triumphant.  I bought a Brian Aldiss short story bookie at the S.F. Bookstore on Bleecker, and also a book about P.K. Dick called Only Apparently Real. I have an impressive array of science fiction on my shelf now.

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I keep forgetting to write in this thing.  Today was weird. At 8 in the morning this chick from work, who I’d only met yesterday when I was making a million tapes for the MasterCard creatives, had the nerve to call me at home.  At eight in the morning.  She wanted me to come in "as soon as I possibly could," like I’d really be able to fly over from Brooklyn in ten minutes.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Bill went off to see the Blue Jays, the Coyote guy’s band, at Continental Divide. He’s been bugging me to go see them but I’ve had clubophobia.  So I’m sitting here listening to a band playing two blocks over in some new space, must be right by the Coyote studios.  I’ve heard the same band practicing there all weekend and they sound slightly better now that they’re playing in front of a crowd — they’re finishing their songs anyway.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I’m starting a new diary because I keep forgetting everything that happens to me. My sense of time is totally fucked.  I can’t tell the difference between yesterday and two months ago — guess it’s all this hash we’ve been smoking, ha ha.

I still work at Lintas.  I say that because I sincerely hope that when I next read this, I will be the fuck out of there.

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Jan Hammer and Tony Williams at the Bottom Line in New York, NY

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I had written Teller a fan letter, asking him if he’d please go roller skating with me.  Heheh.  Barring the skating idea, I implored him to please write me back, bragging that I’d once gotten a long hand-written reply from Quentin Crisp, and complaining that a fan letter to Dwight Yoakam had gone unanswered.  What an excellent man, I can’t believe he actually replied to that foolishness! I will love him forever.