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Weekend Report, October 14-17

Yes, you can tell it's a heck of a weekend when it starts on Thursday.

Thursday morning I met up with a temp agency that had gotten my resume probably via a Craigslist ad and I did all the usual signing up, bringing my passport, testing my typing skills and so on. I don't have too many happy memories of temp agencies, so I was a little bit grumpy when I got to the interview portion of the program. When I was asked if I was looking for a permanent position, I asked if there really was such a thing anymore. The nice lady got a bit flustered and nervous at that question. I pointed out that each job on my resume was intended to be a permanent position, and that didn't exactly work out, now did it?

She also asked what I'd been doing since my last job and I told I'd been revising a novel, writing another one, making and selling artwork and so on. Oh, and sending out resumes and stuff. Funnily enough, I think this may have been a point in my favor--that I was keeping myself busy instead of staring at the clock ticking on the wall while waiting for a job to come around.

At any rate, I got set up with an interview with the client proper on Friday morning and spent the rest of the day going YEEPS. I debated whether or not to go and see The Pinx at the Clermont Lounge that night. The debate went something like this:

Piiiinx! Clermont Louuuuunge! Wanna gooooooo!

You have a job interview in the morning. They're playing again on Friday. You can see them then.

Butbutbut they won't be playing the Clermont Lounge on Friday. And they're playing first, so I can see them and still get home and sleep on the same day!

Are you sure you want to--

Piiiinx! Clermont Louuuuunge!

Oh, all right then.

If they'd been playing any place else, I might not have gone, but it was the Clermont Lounge, and I'm still doing a kind of penance for missing the chance to see Smoke play there before Benjamin died.

The Clermont Lounge is a strip club in the basement of the Clermont Motor Hotel on Ponce de Leon Avenue. It's been there since 1965 and doesn't look like it's been redecorated a great deal since then--they've added some faux brick facing to some of the walls, but others are still the same wood paneling that remind you that you are in a basement. Most people know it as the place where the infamous stripper/poet/character Blondie dances and crushes beer cans between her breasts.

In other words, a perfect venue for a shameless rock-n-roll band like The Pinx.

The Pinx recently put out a single on clear gold vinyl and I'd bought it the last time I saw them play at the East Atlanta Strut. Unfortunately, I'd gotten distracted on the way home and forgotten that it was in my car until late the following afternoon. I was prepared to pay another five bucks for a new copy, but when I told Adam about it he generously offered to replace it. I brought the warped vinyl with me to the Clermont, swapped it out and put my new copy in the car where I WOULD NOT FORGET IT THIS TIME.

When my friend Billy (who is still in my phone as "Luther Leviticus" as I am still in his phone as "Jake"--long story, that) showed up with some friends in tow, they ended up at the table behind me and I went ahead and joined them. I landed a spot that gave me a perfect view of both the stage and the bar where the strippers were. And thus I had the Clermont Epiphany.

The dancers at the Clermont Lounge are real, actual women. You will find no liposuction-reduced, saline-enhanced bodies here. As I watched them take their clothes off and accept dollar bills and shimmy to the music of the jukebox and later the band, I came to a conclusion that I think serves an an excellent philosophy of life:

It don't matter what you got; it's all in how you shake it.

For that alone, the trip was worth it.

I left as soon as The Pinx finished their set and got home in plenty of time to get a decent night's sleep.

The interview the next morning went quite well. I should find out by the middle of this week if they'll take me, but I made a pretty good case for it, I think.

Friday was the start of the Little Five Points Halloween Festival. The Pinx were playing again that night at Findley Plaza, and even at the risk of Adam thinking I'm some kind of creepy stalker person, I went and saw them again. Ran into Ruby Velle of the Soulphonics, who let me know about a forthcoming gig of hers under the banner of the Ruby Velle Trio (it's actually a quartet now, but the flyers have already been printed under that name.) The act that followed was some kind of carnival freakshow hooks-embedded-in-people's-flesh kind of thing, so I finished my beer, became exceedingly fascinated with the streetlights that were facing in the other direction and struck up some conversations with some cute boys.

After that was over, I headed to the ATM to pull some cash and two fellows struck up a conversation with me. They seemed like bohemian types but then one of the guys started asking about my soul and I noticed the other one was carrying what seemed to be a Bible. Oh, dear. I assured them that I was already intimately familiar with the Creator and they needn't worry about me. When one of them asked if I knew the scriptures, I started quoting them, starting with Matthew 7:1-2. They didn't seem prepared for that. When one of them blurted out something about fornication from Paul's letter to Timothy, I told them that "Paul didn't die for my sins" and walked away.

I got home in a bit of a bad mood.

Saturday was quite busy. Ran the usual errands, took a quick nap and then got ready for Evil Cult Protest and Little Five Points Halloween Festival Day Two. The Evil Cult still can't move in across the street yet, but apparently lost their lease in Dunwoody, so they've moved to a new location which is so much nicer for a protest. The Evil Cult People were handing out DVDs to passers-by (to the point of hounding people at the gas station next door) and some of the folks who got DVDs from them would come across the street and talk to us. We answered questions, gave addresses of websites to check out and urged everybody who came to talk to us to look things up and decide for themselves.

Probably the best moment was the kid who said "Oh, wait, it's that thing on South Park, isn't it?" He also told his friend to forget about going to Game Stop today, they were going straight home to check out the websites we told them about.

Time flew and I departed after we had cake to retouch my rather elaborate makeup (I'd done a sort of skull face--it held up surprisingly well) and then head for Little Five Points for what was left of the Halloween Festival. The parking situation was such that I was almost tempted to park at my parents' house and just walk the two miles. Instead, I ended up on Fairview, which spared me a mile of walking, and arrived somewhere in the middle of the parade proper. (Can some arbiter of coolness please declare zombies officially over? I'm getting damned tired of them.) I watched some of it and then retreated to the cool darkness of the Star Bar, where I bought a beer and put a straw in it so as not to mess up my makeup.

I ran into folks who knew me well enough to even recognize me with the makeup on and watched part of All Night Drug Prowling Wolves, before deciding that some dinner would be a good idea. I settled on a bowl of black beans, rice and sausage and returned to the Star Bar parking lot to eat food, drink beer and watch the rest of the set. I ran into Blair Crimmins and apologized for missing his set, but I had an Evil Cult to protest. He was a touch puzzled, but understanding and his girlfriend was thrilled to find out that I'd been protesting the Evil Cult. I invited her to join us at the next go-round in November.

The Biters hit the stage and I went down to see them. I ran into azewewish's sister and we agreed that The Biters absolutely rock. The Booze apparently cancelled and the replacement act didn't look interesting to me, so I wandered over to Findley Plaza to catch Grinder Nova and Young Antiques. Young Antiques had to deal with some odd delays before starting and then stopped their set to deal with a guy who had passed out while slumped against a lamp post in front of the stage. The police showed up with an EMT and they eventually got the guy on his feet and helped him away. Other than that, it was a fine show and reminded me that I really do like this band and should see them more often.

They had vinyl for sale. I bought a copy and made sure that it got home safely.

I looked absolutely dead by the end of the day:

Sunday was mostly recovery, but I did drag myself out to Java Monkey for the first time in quite a while, because my friend Dennis, aka Mr. Boom! was featuring there. He does surreally hilarious poems that contain some biting satire in between the laughs. Afterwards, I hung out with Kodac and Tim at the Brick Store Pub for the usual post-game session, where we drink beer and talk about how the show went.

I'm surprisingly non-melty for having had such a lively weekend. I suppose I should go work on my novels now, since I opened my big fat mouth and told so many people about them.

Today I took pleasure in getting all this written down instead of putting it off.

Today I learned that I can make my usual breakfast smoothie with plain yogurt and it's still drinkable.