October 04, 2004

The warm happy drunken nucleus of this weekend was settling down Dominic's couch with a slice of pizza Saturday night. There was an apartment full of people. They constituted a little shindig celebrating the show we'd just had.

We had just watched Rob Riggle make his first SNL appearance as a featured cast member. He's the first person to be trained exclusively at the UCB Theater to make it on the show. He used to be a Marine. This is huge for the community, to see somebody who's been something of a private treasure unleashed on the world. Wish they'd given him more to do, and Affleck less. Needless to say, this combined with Amy Pohler hosting Weekend Update, it's the first time I've actually made a point to sit down and watch an episode of SNL. Sketches were greeted by the room with the chant riggleriggleriggleriggleriggle. Indescribably proud. Amazingly awesome. Other superlatives.

Earlier, I sat in the back of a huge auditorium, watching sketches I'd written with people I want to work with for the rest of my life, living or dying by the laughs. Did more living than dying, especially at the ten o'clock show. Great crowd. Big, young. They came to play. Earlier in the week I'd been, if not ready to throw in the towel, at least cursing how time-consuming and headache-inducing the towel seemed to be at the time. All worth it, every second. Sometimes you forget that, but remembering's that much sweeter for having lost it temporarily. I get to perform every week and we get to create a new show every month. I'm the luckiest kid that ever lived.

Fran and I were not, yet seemed to be, the only ones drinking at the party. I try to remove the somewhat negative stigma drinking-in-earnest seems to have (and by "somewhat negative stigma" I mean "clearly no one here has to go home and compete with ASU students in the liver-dissolving department") by getting successively more awesome with each beer.

Also, Fran and I smoked a shit-ton of cigarettes (and by a shit ton, clearly I mean two each.) I like to smoke when I drink. All this wanton and delibirate embracing of vice will make a lot more sense when you realize I just realized the other day I'm only gonna be nineteen for three more months, and that I've been attempting, in my pussy way, to live correspondingly. That said, who wants to fuck while a hand-rolled cigarette hangs from my mouth and a once-full whiskey bottle convulses on the motel nightstand?

Anybody?


Later, it was Sunday morning and I woke up on Dominic's couch when Gregor called me. We assembled in the Tisch common room to prepare to go march on the New York Is Book Country festival as anti-literacy protestors, hoping to get enough material to constitute a sequel to Literacy Kills. Dan says we got a lot of good stuff. I think we did too. Also, we got immediately kicked out of the park on threat of legal action, swore at, had a surprising/frightening number of people either jokingly agree or at the very least patiently listen to what we had to say, we staged a counter-book-fair across from the Washington Square arch, and as a final act of protest, ran screaming through the park past the security guys who kicked us out initially insisting we turn back, at which time those cigarettes from the night before were like we left a shit-present in your lungs!

Then we went to improv rehearsal. Then I went to improv class at UCB. Then I collapsed, which I'm about to go do again 'cause it didn't take.


In other news, recent scientific developments indicate I'm going to live forever. (Link via Treacher.)


My iPod is here and I'm embroiled in a long continous uphill computer battle to get it to befriend my ancient laptop. Let's celebrate my current lack of portable music by hopefully enhancing your supply.

Let's Get Depressed: Pitchfork has a new Eliot Smith mp3.

Let's Get Money: The Foreign Exchange has a song to help you on your way through your particular hustle.

Let's Get Canadian: Everybody else mp3blogs, why can't I? Right click/save target as this song right now and shake it courtesy of AC Newman and perfect pop-rock. You really oughta, trust me. His site has more tracks.

That should do it.

Love.

Posted by DC at October 4, 2004 11:34 PM
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