Wednesday, 23 March 2017 —
I woke up this morning with an excuse that since its my day off, I should stay put til I fall back asleep. This was at 4am. I got up, went to the refrigerator and drank some Good Belly Probiotic and went back to bed. 5am: up again. Repeat probiotic (I must like to poop) and this time returned to bed with headphones and iPhone to listen to guided sleep meditation. Of course, 30 seconds in, Mary Maddox’s voice put me into a full blown sleep. I don’t think eating a corner of an edible would put me into such a relaxed trance.
9:40 am: blinking and feeling the bed for Chris. Where has he gone? Is he leaving me alone today? Do I get alone time? Do I get to fart in bed in my lovely room all by myself? No TV going? No smoke trailing in the air. Where is he? I ponder this for a second and walk into the living room seeing him playing “Grand Theft Auto” like a tween and head back to sleep. Let’s round my sleep up to a full hour and wake up at a solid ten o’clock, I think.
10am: up, looking at iPhone. Should I ask my mom and dad to lunch? Perhaps they’ll decline as usual? What’s the deal on HauteLook? Should I order my “April book” from Amazon? Miranda Hart is funny. So is Dawn French. What should I order? Oh look! I can buy the entire television series of Miranda for 24 USD and free Amazon Prime shipping. I look up “The Vicar of Dibley” (54 USD).
10:06 am: In the kitchen making espresso in my Bialetti espresso machina. Chris says to me, “Go back to bed”. It’s already 10am. I can’t go back to sleep. That’s just laziness. I grab a copy of Mae West plays anthology and begin to read.
My friend Lisa wants to produce a Mae West play. There are three scripts I’m reading right now and I kind of want involvement in helping her with this project. So, beyond owning a salon, teaching for Label.m, taking a hiatus from stand-up comedy and waiting for inspiration to write the next chapter of my book, I figure I’ll read scripts and give my creative input.
In this melting pot of ideas, I’ve also hit a standstill of what to do with my once-office. Its has been a year its been empty with junk thrown about. Should I make it a bachelor pad sitting room with a coffee table and 1960s furniture or a dining room? I’m so incredibly informal. I can’t see myself with a formal dining room. I’m much rather flip the $200 bill at La Forchetta and entertain. I just can’t see myself being this domestic. I think the idea of more couches is winning.
Lately, I’m having a bit of an identity crisis. I miss performing stand-up comedy and I’ve grown inheritently bored of Pueblo. I plan on vacationing more as I already have a routine. I know the new places in town. I know the faces of this town. They know me too. I took a long social hiatus a couple years ago after some bad publicity, played a few comedy gigs for a few months and when Wade (my comedy partner) left, so did my days at the mic. A few months later, Label.m picked me up as an ambassador and soon after a full-blown educator on the payroll. So I’ve been busy. I hate explaining what I’m doing to people that think I’ve vanished.
My own aunt asked me if I go “hang out” anymore like I used to when I visited The Downtown Bar. Yeah, I guess. You’ll find me at the wine bar a couple of evenings a week looking at email and Instagram and puruuuuuusing Pinterest. But no, I don’t hang out like I used to. I don’t know if I ever will again in this town. I make dinner dates with my close friends and see them in lump groups of 4 to 6 or 1-on-1 for dinner once a month. Every so often Chris dashes off to the pub of choice with me for a couple of drinks where I know everyone in the tavern and rehash the past with obscenities and copious amounts of drinks. I pay the bill and off we go to watch Hulu or Netflix and bedtime approaches – new day has arrived. Repeat.
It’s so not what I’m about. God did not intend for me to be stagnant. I’m looking for books to read and searching for 1960s furniture that doesn’t smell like old men and old women. I like old things. I like the history of them. Someone once got drunk on this couch and had a drunk romp with his secretary and his wife didn’t know, I think. Or a wife sat here, on this very sofa, mid-day and had a cup of coffee or a daiquiri with girlfriends.
My creative mind needs to write, it needs to perform again.
I started reading part of a Mae West script and got sucked into a biography instead to understand how her brain worked. I love research. I’m a bonafide nerd. I love reading and researching. I do the same for haircuts, color and fashion. I wear my own hair the same and the same black shirts with Armani jeans and Ferragamo loafers. No change. Not so fashionable, just utilitarian.
Laying in bed today, I thought to myself: what am I when I’m not in the salon?
The words entertainer, socialite, writer came to mind. Culinary enthusiast. Linguistic champion. Dry comedy lover. Europhile. Greta Garbo wet-dreamer. House music aficionado.
Oh, this process of finding things to do in my spare time is monotonous. One can only bake so many lasagnas or creep Tumblr pages. That all gets very boring. Maybe producing a play or writing more comedy is where its at. Maybe we can incorporate the two? Maybe I can be the opening act? An MC of sorts?
YES!! That’s brilliant.
Now, what’s for lunch and what couch am I buying?