Same Hundred Dollars

Back got hot, itchy looking for that envelope. The envelope with $100 in it. It was a gift from last year. Been on my bookshelf since for a special (undetermined) purpose. Suddenly doing my frantic New Years' Eve scrub of the apartment, I couldn't find it. I wanted to cry. I'd shoved so many papers in the trash. Old statements and receipts--did the envelope and its cargo end go with them? I made the peace when, an hour later, I saw it. Sitting next to a book. In plain sight. I carefully hid it inside my cigar box of things not to lose--

--next to a gift card for $100 to a swanky Hollywood spot. A piece of plastic with real value. I look forward to using it but couldn't tell you when that might be. I haven't eaten inside a restaurant in months. But when it's safe enough, and when I find the right date, I'll be ready.

Because of omicron, no parties to midnight. Instead we ordered a pizza. For pick-up even--to save the delivery fees. When I arrived the girl behind the counter was stressed. Our order was under the wrong name and a line was forming and I peered into the kitchen to see a couple masked, hair-netted, workers rushing around the ovens. "How many people are working tonight?" I asked. She told me a couple drivers, her int he front, a few in the back...but they were super understaffed. I'd gotten some 20s for a drive, pulled five out, and put them in the tip jar. I walked out feeling generous, but by the time I reached Puhg idling on the street, I felt dumb. I go on work hiatus February 1st.

Two months ago some young 20something guy in a Tesla scratched my bumper in traffic. We exchanged info. It was such a small scratch (on an already scratched up car), the $1200 fix and calls on calls to insurance companies seemed excessive. I texted him I wasn't moving forward with action. He gratefully Venmoed me $100 as a gesture. It was nice. But now, when I'm in a bad mood, I see that scratch and get so upset. I saved that rich guy a thousand dollars and he made me late for gymnastics. Not the right way to think about it.

Wake up to an email from this designer I follow on Instagram. She makes one-of-a-kind coats repurposed from old quilts. I raced to her website to see five new coats for sale. I had to act fast. Only one remained. $300. I put it in my cart...but then wondered if it was indeed the perfect color for me. Maybe too pale. I knew if I didn't buy it now it would disappear forever. What's money if it's once in a lifetime? I didn't buy it and the next day revisited the photo. It was fine.

I pay my thousand dollar rent and don't question it. I look up rentals for a vacation. Some hundreds of dollars more than others. But that's negligible. I remember my friend in high school who had me spot him $5 to buy tickets to another school's play. He never paid me back. I spend $40 on fancy donuts, get fussy my license replacement was $38. 

I wish it was easier to kiss you on the mouth,

like it is to work hard, and earn an honest wage.

You're not always fair to me, like I wish you would be.

He's the one who left home, and I'm the one who stayed.

It's My Blog & I'll Brag If I Want To (2021)

Traveled to a snowy A-frame in Big Bear, old friends in Arizona, new friends in Idyllwild, the present in Santa Barbara, the past in Chicago, the future in Mexico,  the midwest for family, Catalina for family, Encinitas for fun, Big Sur for love, Palm Springs for Christmas.

Wrote a full revamp of an old pilot, heavily revised two others, sold a movie on a pitch, wrote said movie, wrote a Scream feature spec, wrote a new thriller feature on spec, revised a horror thriller feature about six times (only for it to be shelved), started development on three TV shows, co-wrote two Barbie series, independently wrote four more Barbie series, negotiated for better pay, signed with a new manager, published an essay, wrote a new play, dramaturged another, two film festivals, consulted here and there. Weathered about 100 rejections--some that left me for dead and others I've forgotten. Expanded my network and ran a successful writers' event.

Graduated from an online attachment style program and made progress in monthly therapy. Read, I don't know, a dozen books? Did, I don't know, 300 work-outs and 52 meditations? Enjoyed so many afternoons at the Burbank movie theatre. Played board games with and without friends. Beat Mario Odyssey on the Switch. Kept my spaces tidy. Mourned a sweet little bb and came to love another. Never got Covid, managed my health insurance. Needles in my skin. Finally freed myself from a three-month long bank fraud nightmare. Started gymnastics, 

Went to Six Flags and Horror Nights. Andrew McMahon and Future Islands. Mentored a teen in writing every week. Helped mobilize for green legislature in LA. Began communications with an inmate writers' program. Maintained my status in the NAACP and White People for Black Lives. Showed myself. Liked being at home, liked taking meetings at the bakery patio down the street. Said no out of a need for rest, said yes to weekly Survivor with the neighbors. Made it.

We're just left to decay, modernity has failed us,

and I'd love it if we made it.