JP

Protection. Everyone need some every now and then. Now it is time for me to take some. There have been many subjects rolling around up here. I am not sure what to cover. Usually if I ramble like this long enough, something will come. I think I am just going to cover how awesome I am. Deal with it. This has come to me in the last couple of days. Whoa. I know this sounds pretty prickish and it is. But the thing is, I don’t remember this enough. Someone else knows this and will recognize. I am OK, and I am going to go ahead and believe that.

Ok, this never really happened:

Now that the dust has settled over the evening I must reiterate my (not) shame, (but that is the first word that comes to mind) for my behavior last night. That has obviously been recapped enough already today. This last bout of behavior brings me to wonder if there isn't something linking my actions to my words. I am sure there is something there, but am having trouble deciding which way this is working. Am I causing my behavior by thinking and writing about similar past behaviors or am I thinking and writing about similar past behaviors because something inside me feels a bout of such bubbling up from deep within my subconscious? This is of course an unanswerable question. I would love to be decisive here but as I was mentioning earlier, this is not a sound byte. My more rational self tells me that both are true.
This is an interesting development for me. I have always been aware that if I could recognize the behaviors that lead to the outbursts, I could stop them. That had been the struggle all along. My uncontrollable temper tantrums had always come with many warning signs, I was just never able to recognize them. I had always allowed them to simmer up inside until my top blew.
This is of course, not what happened. I didn’t have one ounce of anger inside me last night. In fact, I was blissfully dancing all the way till the end.
Fair’s fair, right? Here is where I have the most trouble with pride. I have a serious hero complex, which must seem quite obvious by now. Whenever I get a chance to save the day, I love to jump in and save the day. But what I love at least as much is the praise that comes with it. Oh, this stings to admit, for a true hero, does what he does, and goes on his way. That has happened many times too, but due to their nature, they are not spoken of. Bla Bla. This is obviously one of the ancillary reasons that I would have loved to be an EMT. It combines heroism and martyrdom.
The night, reader’s digest edition:
Sushi was a disaster. We were stuck the moment E called me instead of L to tell me she was meeting us. Because she said, me and not us, I was then 100% obligated. I gave F the head’s up and he was already leery. The fine taco gentleman to my right clearly stated he was only ordering for 5 of us. The waiter disregarded completely. We were in trouble. RS bitch kept eating all of our food and I couldn’t justify eating one bite. Silent mutiny ensued. Two folks left to set up. Others refused to eat so they wouldn’t have to pay (me and you). I ordered tap water and ended up drinking $55 bottled water. I don’t believe in bottled water at fancy restaurants, it just isn’t prudent. Stress and continual smoke breaks transpired. One AJ shared an entire smoke at one point. Stress was on the rise. I put in $100 for the both of us, which ended up being about $20/bite. Seems reasonable. You asked me why we were doing this. I gave you a short rude answer. I shut you down. That was wrong. I am sure it was because I believed after last time that I couldn’t do anything about it. I failed to recognize that maybe you could have.
Off to the club. We get into the car, L in front of course. As you know, I prefer you there. She is a horrible side seat driver. Why did you go that way, you cannot go that way, turn, don’t turn. Wipers on. Please sit with me. After some driving around nonsense, we finally valet the Pontiac at the club. I am scrambled and had already been told that I was on the list but you two were not. That was all I was thinking when I walked into the door. Well, I didn’t recognize what’s her face standing there and had all of my money ready. I believe at this stage in my life, I can pay the 5 bucks and support the party. It was quite a surprise when she (name please) listed us all. Great, we’re in. Shots. I need a shot, what will it be? L: Jamison. So LA style, the guy asks us if we want coke backs. Yo, we are pros over here. Mine was so full I had to start drinking it before I picked it up. Got a beer to go with it and headed off to find friends. The first thing I saw was F posting up downstairs in the patio. We head. We talk for a while and I mention drugs. I didn’t want drugs, but what the heck. F had just procured some and handed it to me. I asked him what it was: ÇØ´. F cannot do Í∏´´Î he has a deviated septum. I feel obligated now and grab L’s keys and head to the bathroom. I take one look at what I have and realize it isn’t enough to share, put a little on a key and sniff it. I later told F I hadn’t done any, and essentially, for me, I hadn’t. Still a lie, but whatever. Never touched it again that night.
Tacos. We are starving. We head over to pinches tacos. You and I are same paging it again. Señor dude tells us what are his best tacos and (this was presumptuous) I ordered one of each of the two that sounded best for us. You nose pointed, so I figured it was ok, but I should have asked you. Maybe not, maybe it is nice for someone to just get you something that he thinks you will enjoy. You tell me. These tacos curled my toes and my mouth rejoiced in it’s own splendor. You had the brilliant idea of brining back the same to F. Unfortunately, it was too late, for reasons unknown. Still was the right move. You ended up saving a life with one taco, if not two. I picked up some Rick Springfield flyers. He was playing with the sounds of Uganda. Seems like a natural pair to me. More drinking and smoking and trash talking ensue. S’s friend calls me from within the club. I go and get a drink. On my way back, I recognize her. We chat for a while and she wants to go smoke. OK. We talk a bit more and I meet S’s best friend’s ex girlfriend. That was interesting. At this point, the are closing the patio. We split and head for our friends. By now, F is on and starting to rock it. F and I have this long standing thing. I have often been his muse for a set djing and we talked about that today. He was happy to have that synergy again that we shared so many nights before. My eyes were closed and I was rocking the floor hard. By now I am in a world of drunk. I am getting scotch’s and beers handed to me from all over the place. I cannot follow it anymore. I have to use the bathroom. The bathroom line is ridiculous and I pull a move that is seldom seen by anyone else. This is usually reserved for pretty girls and vip’s. I go to the back door and talk to the security guard. I tell him I really need to go and the bathroom line upstairs is prohibitively long. I promise him I am just going to use the bathroom and I won’t make any noise. Quite surprisingly, he let’s me through. As I walk down the steps, I hear his coworker ask him why he did that and he responded, he said he would be quite; he needs to use the bathroom. I quite clearly jedi mind tricked him.
Now we are really grooving on the floor. I am pogoing and screaming at the top of my lungs for F. You and I have now found a really good groove and are shaking our asses off. I go to get you a glass of water or something and a beer and to close my tab. When I return, we are there for about 36 seconds before I see the conflict. I bust through, without any thought. The guy starts yelling at me. I do not respond to any of that. I ask him: What are you here for? Are you here to have fun or to get in a fight with a chick? To have fun, of course. I shove L off of my back and tell him very directly that nothing good is going to come out of getting in a fight with a woman at a club and he should just move on. He did.
F’s set ended. I screamed one more a few times for old time’s sake. And we begin to get escorted out the door. F asks the woman he is with if I can come over. She says of course and tells me where to go. I go to gather you too. You both refuse. I call you both broken down old bitches and get the car. We start of for home. F is beside herself. I try and show how ridiculous it is to be so upset by popping the windshield a few times. We are now making a left off of Hollywood blvd. A short, well dressed man carrying a phone in his right hand had started to cross the street with intention, but the light was red for him. I was trying to go left. I took one look and it flashed on me. I rolled down the window and yelled “Get the fuck out of my way JEREMY PIVEN!” He did, he ran back to the curb.
We moved on. I again tried to get t focused on something else. I hit the windshield again. Urged her to try it. She did. I did it again and CRACK. Oh fuck, I fucking broke the windshield with my fist. She felt challenged at this point and hit it as hard as she could and put another crack in the thing. I look back at you and all I see is a pile with my jacket on top giggling and jiggling. It was so precious. Made the whole ordeal worth it. I lock up the tires entering the freeway and we ride back home fairly serenely, considering the music volume. I park the car and the both of you ask me where we are. We are 3 buildings from F’s place. I decide it is time to go topless. Yikes.


Difficult to detect and very subtle,
the mind seizes whatever it wants;
so let a wise one guard one's mind,
for a guarded mind brings happiness.

the waiter story

I was waiting tables at a second rate seafood restaurant when I was 18 years old. I had just dropped out of college again (third time already) and moved home from San Diego.
That dick of a manager scheduled me to close again. I looked at my schedule as I strolled around the back of the house, trying not to be noticed. Scotty and Lance had headed over the hill hours ago. The swell was epic yesterday and today held the same promise. I was still a bit blunted from our morning sesh, but nothing out of hand like that time I tried to wait tables on acid. The lunch crowd was typical for a Tuesday. A bunch of blue hairs wanting their stupid soup and salad or $5.99 what the fuck is that? fish special. Vern had 2 tables. She was her usual, nasty self and Rod seemed like he was still drunk and probably was. I didn’t see him even take one table. I spent most of that afternoon in the back, chatting with Carlos in spanish, and doing side work. The usual shit: fold the napkins, fill the sugar caddies, truly mindless. Big Steve (he actually called himself that and insisted we did too) decided that today was get on Josh’s ass day.
“Hey, josh, I am going to count those rolls. There better be 30 this time.”
“Got it.”
“Got it what?”
“Got it, big Steve.”
“I am going to count them.”
“I know you will big Steve.”
My middle finger was flying for no one to see. But that was nothing new. This man was at least 40 lbs over weight and 4 inches too short. He didn’t seem to own a comb or any pants that were not made from polyester.
There hasn’t been more than one table at a time for an hour and a half. Rod was long gone and Vern and I were trading as little small talk as possible. Vern was at least 15 years my senior and a lifer. She had the die job that matched the life she has led. Boring, cheap and mediocre. There wasn’t any money to be made at the table and was scheming to get the hell out of there. I had to take my shot.
“So, Vern, you think there’s going to be a late rush?”
Slanted look “What?” This was not a request to repeat myself. “I’m not closing for you again, Josh. I have plans.”
“Come on.” That was the best I had. I was no match for an old pro like Vern. Whatever favor she had ever done for me was not for me.
“Tony is coming up from Fresno and we are going to Daily’s tonight. I need to get pretty.”
I doubted that was possible but she didn’t. I had just gotten back in to town and was basically broke. I was staying with my mom and dad while I figured out what the hell I was doing with my life. I wasn’t concerned with my life, just that afternoon. I had just run into a girl I had a crush on a few years back and actually believed that if I could get out of here, I could get into there. (I couldn’t) I wasn’t about to let big Steve have his day. My mind raced. Here are the possibilities, I told myself. It is Tuesday and I have had 3 tables all day. It is quite possible that if I do what BS wants and get all of my side work done, we just might close early. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I guess there was just one possibility to me. I went in the back to piss and when I returned, Vern had split. It seemed that BS decided that her services were no longer needed. I guess it made sense. Neither of us had had a new table in a half hour and her last one had just left.
“So, Big Steve, how are we lookin?”
“Side work done?”
“Yup.”
“I’m going to count it Josh.”
“Yup, so how’re we lookin?”
“Give it 15 more minutes.”
It was a quarter to 2 when IT happened. They all came at once. Four two tops, a three top and two four tops. I had seven tables all seated at the same time. I have never even had more than 5 tables at once before. I have to admit I was a terrible waiter. I never did get the rhythm of it and had too much punk in me to serve people. I have always worked in the back of the house but took a shot at the front for the money. Too bad I sucked at it so bad. I had once told a customer to go home and make himself because I was too stoned or indifferent to remember all of his special requests, but that is a story for another time.
I go in. Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Water. Water.
I will be right back with your waters.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Diet coke, no iced tea, diet coke, wait yes, diet coke. Coke please.
I get the first two tables their drinks and head to the third.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Coke. Iced tea. Iced tea.
I cover the rest of the tables with drinks and get back to table one for food orders.
We have been waiting for 10 minutes for you to come back.
I am sorry. What can I get you?
This is the moment that I realize that I am not going to make it. I dutifully write down their orders and move on. Table after table. After I take down the last order I look down at my notepad to check over my notes. Well what do you know? There isn’t a single thing written there. I grin a bit and head for the door. I often wonder what those patrons were thinking as they saw me stroll by their window waving.