The visions of what I could make this place are coming into focus. Up the spiral staircase I will hang the white christmas lights, along the steps, not the rail. above the rail on the walls, I will hang my photographs – or at least the ones I haven’t given away. I need to print more, but then – i sold my printer for gas money to get here, didn’t I? I do what I need to do in order to follow the roads layed out for me. I try to listen, to see.

Desperation is the name of the game right now. I could love this place, and I will be easily aboe to afford it as soon as I am a front waiter. I will give my manager a week – more out of making him realize the need than anything else. I have proven myself, he sees that. We have both invested time in each other, but him much more than me. I need to be able to afford this place. A brief talk tonight, and apparently I begin training this week – and the tips had better be there. One of my co-workers said he maid (almost my rent) a couple weeks ago – in one week. I make half of my rent in two right now. Desperation, worry – trying to believe that things will happen as they should but fuck – it’s not just me. I need to pay rent, i need to pay back debts – now.

Dreaming of the days in San Francisco, where I *could* easily make this rent performing on the street. Dreaming of days in the future where i might be able to support myself by doing the same, but not necessarily on the street. Performing. That is what I need to do. Performing in any way. Breathing life into myself instead of feeling it sucked out but a typical job. i am not a typical job kinda guy, and anyone who saw my dedication and passion when I was working with the Dresden Dolls can attest to that.

Give me an erratic schedule or none at all, give me the freedom to do whatever I want as long as I get my shit done, give me something that delights people or at least has a definite interaction with them. Give me creativity, passion. Give me dreams and the possibility to make them real for others and myself. Give me my own time when I want it and let me wear makeup and stilts – not a tux and bow tie. Give me your tired, your poor, your hungry, give me the magickal people and we will create the most amazing fucking troupe you have ever seen. Where are they in New Orleans? San Francisco is saturated with them – New orleans *needs* them. Give me a sewing machine and teach me how to sew amazing costumes on it. Give me a life I love that is able to support me – and i want to live well. I want to be sustained through art, through passsion, through the life that I have had such a beautiful taste of and desperately love. Make me say “I’m sorry, I can’t do that – I’m overbooked as it is.” Make me say “okay, since it’s for a good cause – we’ll do it for free.” Give me the people, give me business cards, some good photos and a website. Please. I want to be who i have found inside. I want to be able to be who I am. I say give me, I plead. I say give me, this is what I want, this is what I dream of, this is what I have found that brings me a passion for life like no other – and I need that. I would like to believe that there is a reason that I was led to New Orleans when i was – post Katrina. Through my own tragedy, i was able to come here – I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her in a box. There MUST be a fucking reason I’m here, and not just to delight in the magick of it. Not just to work as a waiter in a restaurant. I wait, I get horrribly impatient. I feel the weight and sorrow of this city from the ones who called it home before Katrina, and now, it is time to bring it back – better. better? I don’t know what beter is, i wasnt here before – but I can offer myself, all of me, every last drop to help re-create the art, passion, and primal, dirty fucking lust that seethes in it still – just needs to be re- awakened. I am here, waiting. I am here for you, and me. I am here because i am supposed to be, and have lost the dearest thing i have ever had in my whole fucking life so it could happen. I will not be passive about this – i owe it to Bean – but at the same time, i don’t know where to start.

(Edit, the morning after)

Ummmm – rant much?
Where did that filter switch go, anyway?


8 responses to “

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s