$3

So, have you been bleading...blog-reading...MY blog to be exact...recently? (I think those should be dub dashes don't you?)

I think today I may have to give $3 to charity.

My world exploded last night. Got a tentative offer on a gig that could end up being beaucoup bucks. I will have to leave for Tucson three days earlier than expected.

So clean clean clean. Find subletter subletter subletter. See friends friends friends family family family. Give shit away way ay.

All this (and the rest of a regular day) I could handle.

But I have to deal with FREAKIN' WORKERS' COMP some more. Another hour wasted today. Just gone. And some of my soul ...gone too. I have never had to deal with them directly. I have never had $1000 bill come to me directly...TWICE. I have never not had a theatre deal with it. I have never...well, I guess I have now but I liked it better when I'd never.

I'm an artist, goddammit. Not an accountant. Nothing against accounting, or business managing or anyone dealing with money. I was offered a job on Wall Street back in '89 in research. And while I learned the trade they offered to start paying my $150,000 a year salary.

And I said no. It's not who I am. Although I am quite good at investing, it's not where I live, breath or poop.

Sometimes I'm stoopid.

This is my lame-ass way of saying I don't think I'm going to get an hour of writing in today. Will writing this and then reading my play research on the bus to and from from the chiropractor (that's another hour and a half out of my day) count?

Please say yes.