understanding

I am adjusting slowly but surely to the new job schedule.

I spent three years waking up at 10AM, getting to work at noon but not working until 3PM, then going home anytime between 5PM and 7:45PM.

Now I have the alarm set for 5:45AM... hell, just having the alarm set AT ALL is a bitch!

I have myself trained to the point where I wake up right before the alarm, but I'm still too lazy to stay awake after I turn it off... and I've never been a Snooze Button kind of guy.

Getting to sleep on time has been improving. Only two nights this week did I stay out past 10PM, and both of those nights were party nights: Monday I went out to visit The Wolf Man and make music, and last night I kicked it with Purple Paulie and assorted friends. The rest of the week was spent playing shows and rehearsing with other bands.

Speaking of Wolfie, he is leaving town. He's had it with Los Angeles and wants to relocate to Oregon. He has a degree in Advanced Chemistry but he wants to be a rock star. I say he should try and be a rock star chemist, but it's a hard sell.

I really should get him to hook me up with his snow connect before he moves away. Not that I'm getting into it... it's just that it's really high quality and the very rare occasions when I deign to do it are worth all the trouble.

The next day I was a wreck. I received all sorts of bad news and bad vibes on Tuesday. I didn't fully recuperate until Wednesday.

Thursday was blissful and mellow. While at Paulie's last night I sat down and had a chat with Nona, Paulie's girlfriend and a close friend of mine for years.

She and I used to sit around and talk all the time. I was friends with her sister Nina, whose current beau hired me for my new job. I introduced Nona to Paulie and was friends with her when she was dating Sharky.

We made small talk but I liked how small the talk was, especially considering that there are big-- no, huge --concerns on my mind as of late. Nona is not one to get deep or sentimental. She barely ever speaks at all, content to be a silent, lanky Buddha reclining in her favorite chair with a bong as a sceptor.

But she understands me, and that makes me realize that everyone in my life has a different understanding of who I am.

Eve understands me too, but it's a different kind of understanding. It is informed by romance and past history characterizations we've made in our heads colored by sex and emotions too dark to label.

All the women I flock to have different understandings of me. It's as if I have several therapists-- all of them women --who all have separate diagnoses for what ails me.

One of these days I'm going to organize a summit. Everyone will show up and compare notes, and after extensive research we will see just what my big problem is, and whether I can do anything about it.

No men will be invited. Men are not interested in profiling me, even though I have entire dossiers in my head concerning my guy pals. Maybe it's because I know them too well that I deny them the chance to diagnose me.

That's how my week has been: coke sessions, band rehearsals, and heart-to-heart talks with longtime confidantes.

As for Friday, so far so good.