The Shake Shack in Hollywood

Wake up before the alarm, to a text, asking if I can hop on a show this Friday night. I can! A dance workout, put pumpkin rolls in the oven. Wear my new concert t-shirt. It's baby blue and reminds me of how fun it was to scream "Constant Headache" at The Greek in a row by myself.

I trot down to the coffee shop to meet Puhg for a latte. The barista working, my favorite, a young director. I journal and jet of by 9:10 to meet my writer's group for breakfast in Hirshy's beautiful backyard. I make a big deal about taking the last apple pop-tart and then don't even finish it. Shawl texts me we could write at a cafe together for an hour. I'd have to bail early and consider, as I do often these days, how much to amend my life to accommodate famous people. But the cafe is only five minutes away, so I go and order two eggs and and a lemonade and gab with the funny star. After she leaves I write a scene of my new play, make it home by 2.

Answer some emails in bed. Set up a coffee with AB for next week! Hit the pool. Read my fat Madwoman book, swim, swim, swim. In the deep end I find a bee. I use a leaf to air-lift her to the ledge. Every lap I take a peek. She seems to be breathing and drying, like ohmyGOD what was that all about?

Shower and get ready in a jif. Decide to go with grey dress and bubblegum lipstick. Hop in a cab to meet my manager at the Shake Shack on Hollywood Boulevard. If you live here, you never go to Hollywood Boulevard. It's funny to sit waiting for her around all the tourists. K___ is quite late, but I don't mind. I practice my Japanese. She shows up with her magic company credit card and I get to eat a veggie burger and Coke. And we gab about all my meetings from the week and how hopeless this industry is. But it feels better, when I'm laughing about it, eating a free veggie burger and Coke.

We walk two blocks to the networking mixer and stop to enjoy bits from the walk of fame. I take a picture with Bette Davis's star. Feels important at the time. At the mixer I see a writer I know, who immediately tells me he had to get a survival job in marketing. We run into a theatre producer and I feel myself ooze. I'm sick of oozing. We chat with another exec, clink classes with a couple other writers. One is so fresh-faced and nervous--I admire he came to this big group thing alone.

The pack heads to the theatre on foot, and we watch a brilliant production of Company. My dear friend R___ waves to me at intermission. She's wearing a bright yellow dress and looks anxious. In Act Two I spend a lot of time thinking about my own work. I try to stop myself, but inspiration can't always be tamed. My manager and I gossip out into the night and go to the chic ice cream shop to discuss everyone we know in the context of the musical. Once my mouth is black from brownie batter I call Puhg to pick me up. My manager reassures me, we are getting by. We're cockroaches, but we're alive. And then, a cockroach crawls up from the wall behind her and threatens to jump into her hair! I pull her away in the nick of time.

At 11 Sweet Potato is up, lying very flat but happily in Puhg's shadow. She gets an apple slice.

church folks had a fish fry, mustard, hot sauce

Saturday. I woke up concerned. The insomnia has been killing me. I think it persists because it knows I have no good argument against it. Nevertheless I did two tough workouts back to back. I felt good after, chemically for certain. It's too hot in LA, but our new AC hides it. Puhg lifted weights on the balcony and came in drenched in sweat. He suggested we go down to the pool for a morning swim. Clear blue water and blazing sun. I felt refreshed and like my head was my head.

I spent most of Friday revising a play to send to a colleague. I sat down at the table with an oat milk coffee and gave it a final once over before attaching the email. I was tired and deserved kettle korn. I ate two bowls while watching the Merrily We Roll Along doc, which I, not surprisingly LOVED. That's a good afternoon.

And then it was time to lay down and play Animal Crossing for the first time in a month. All my fake fruit trees were ready for harvest, and I found an acorn in the forest. I muted the sound to listen to the Invisible Brain podcast about preconceived notions. Also for the first time in a month (much more?) I got dressed up. I wore my leopard unitard and put on some makeup. Puhg and I went to a drive-in concert. It was free for customer service reasons, including a generous menu comp. We danced and danced because although the temperatures were high, the sun was low. Fitz and the Tantrums isn't a band I would have chosen to see, but in some way that made it even more fun. I legitimately forget they sang Moneygrabber, so it was like a surprise right in the middle of all these songs I maybe had heard once. Plus the hits. Obviously the hits. The family in front of our blocked off space brought a tent for their kids to poop in. We scuttled inside our cool car while the manager made them disassemble it and chuck the bag of feces into their trunk.

I got a gigantic lemonade in a souvenir cup and jumped around sloshing it over the asphalt. Puhg got a beer and, being deal-lovers, we ordered exactly three soft pretzels with jalepeno cheese to meet our coupon amount. The bandleader asked us all the scream on three because this has been the most stressful year of our lives. There were two songs in the encore and we clapped, honked, cheered heartily for both. I kept thinking I caught the moon out of the corner of my eye, but it was a Shell sign in the distance. Right as we were about to pull away the real moon made her debut--just as bright yellow as the mistaken moon.

The long drive home was a comfort. A time to reflect and share and laugh. We stopped for Taco Bell and I ate it while watching an episode of 90 Day Fiance.

Doin' Good

Back on track with my New Year's res. Took a break for vacation, which makes no sense, my res keeps me happy, and the place I should be happiest (vacaying) I neglected practice.

High-powered Step class even though it's been a minute. It's humiliating to mess up so many times but it makes a person strong, you know.

Minor set-back getting an extremely sugary coffee.

Then there were auditions at one of my theatres. Got an email that they were low on auditiors. No pay and around three hours of work, but I wondered if there were any women sitting in and I wouldn't know unless I was there sitting in, so I sat in. Guess what? No women but me. And I made sure to smile at each auditioning one as they took the stage. And when another auditor didn't like a girl for no particular reason I said, "Let's take her." You would do it too, but only if you were there, which is the main whole thing.

At home I set up a tiny office in bed to phone bank for the Congressional democratic candidate in my district. I made 50 calls, which I did not like at all, but I got a few more voters, and this is my duty as a person and my mess as a citizen in a country that does not value research.

A friend wanted to talk on the phone (despise) but I did it.

Could have watched something stupid over dinner, but dove into a true crime doc. Gotta learn about justice systems to get mad enough to change them.

Worked on my book. I have two goals for this week.

Took the train instead of a Lyft. Save any tank of gas we can.

Tried to make the new player feel welcome enough. Improvised a musical as a poached goat. Paraphrased MLK Jr., a finale that was a metaphor for bipartisanism, tossed out the compliments. (They're free.) Tried to make people feel good.

And then I could have gone to sleep but watched Kimmy S over leftover birthday cake. I did my best.