G	Gallant
U	Umber
R	Reticent
G	Gadabout

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It's Not Everyday That Tuesday Is Your Monday

Three day weekend over. Bones tired. Had good time. Managed to get into a handful of misadventures. Want to read and then sleep. Here are some notes:

* * * * *
I went to the club with the usual crew for a night of cranberry-vodkas and music that's too hip to be played on the radio. Lauren, Alan and I ended up staying until 3 am. The dance floor there is wild. I hadn't been there in some time because things tend to get a little out of hand. But it was fun to go dancing again.

* * * *

"What are you doing?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm working on a story."

"What is the story about?"

"Ha ha, my dear, if I could tell it, then I wouldn't have to write it."

* * * * *

["On Location" in Superior, Arizona to visit the set of the movie Joey is working on, a sort of "B" horror flick. I don't even know the title, but the budget is supposed to be around 200,000 dollars and one of the actors used to be on Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. I didn't recognize him so I don't think he was one of the original Rangers. Brian and I tried to make ourselves useful in our temporary "Grip Assistant" status, but to no avail. We pretty much just ran around getting mistaken for new actors. We chose not to take full advantage of the situation, although I did ask the make-up guy to make it look like I had a bloody nose. He happily obliged.]

Add six parts Tedium to Essence of Underfoot Child and you will have our day on the set of Joey's movie.

The set is nestled snugly in the center of one of the most dismal towns I've ever seen. This part is being filmed in an old, abandoned hotel. It felt like the video game, Resident Evil, with nostalgic, Western-themed decor. Spooky; which is good because it is a horror movie.

Lunch has arrived.

[They at least fed us. I had lemonade and a couple of veggie-dogs. I felt like a movie star, really. No, I don't have any desire to be in movies and seeing the actual process didn't change my mind. A lot of Hurry Up and Wait. It reminded me of the Army. So I guess I won't ever be gracing the silver screen with any epic films. Unless, of course, I am asked to be in one and I have nothing better to do.

Oh, we also met a guy who is in the upcoming movie "DodgeBall." That was cool.]

* * * * *

There is much more that I didn't take notes on, like Luis and I making a police officer laugh so hard that he couldn't finish writing down his report.

We had been at our cousin's house (two blocks away from our own house) on Sunday. There was carne asada, tequila, abrasive mariachi music; the whole bit. Behind their house is a strip of undeveloped land, dirt really, that divides the houses from the string of apartments that run parallel to the next major street.

When I was little, my brothers and I would ride our bikes around there all the time. Local kids still frequent the area.

That afternoon, some children, about 12 or 13 years of age, had thrown rocks at a few of the apartments. My cousin could see them from where he was cooking in the backyard and he had yelled at them to stop.

Not entirely unexpectedly, one of the children had hurled a rock in his direction. The rock missed and the children ran away.

The police were called, and a police officer arrived shortly after. My cousin was giving him a description of the children, (male, 12-13, African-American,) and Luis was listening. I was watching the boy with a raised eyebrow because I could tell he was about to go into Dramatic Mode. Sure enough...

"What if it was Angelo?" He put his hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

"Angelo. Our next-door neighbor?"

"Yeah, he's been arrested before."

"Boy, I doubt it was Angelo. First of all, he's our next-door neighbor and he's not that stupid to think we'd never see him again. Secondly, he isn't black. Sorry kid, but you're never going to make Detective."

I didn't think it was that funny, but the police officer just lost it. He wasn't able to write down what my cousin was telling him for a full minute.

Anyway, score one for Luis and I. No one is safe.

* * * * *

Later that night, a group of us went to go play sand volleyball. As it began to grow too dark to play, Johnny pushed the big yellow button marked "Lights". The lights came on. So did the sprinklers that wet down the volleyball courts.

The sprinklers must have been having too much fun or something, because they didn't turn off. We waited about 10 minutes, figured they would stop soon enough, and began to play again.

It was very interesting. Sporadic streams of water and muddy sand added a new dynamic to the game. On a serve, the server could wait until the sprinklers were on the opponents' court, partially blinding them and making for an easy ace.

It was muddy and cold and a great time.

* * * * * * *

Now, I'm off to read Joseph Cambell's The Power of Myth until I fall asleep. Tomorrow I will go to work and hope that I develop more interesting things to say.

After re-reading my last post, I have decided that the non-sequitur nonsense I've been churning out is the result of one of two things:

Either my job is so dreary and stifling that my imagination is igniting like a Christmas tree in February.

Or, that everything I've been producing has been a mental fibbrilation; my creativity a candle in a tempest, flickering violently just before it is snuffed out.

Heh, I guess Luis isn't the only Lopez that can be dramatic.