![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
And the orchestra kept on playing
Jun. 2nd, 2002 10:52 pmIt's a night for improbable shoes, and I am stuck wearing sensible walking sandals. I leave my level of ire to your conjecture.
I wrote an awfully good entry yesterday, but unfortunately it must be heard instead of read. Perhaps I shall upload a wav at some point; until then, you will simply have to envy those happy few who enjoyed a live performance.
Life is tense right now. In my entire friend group, only three of us are currently employed: Merlin, who has had the same underpaid computer job for years, Patrick, who gets paid $100 a week to work odd hours as a member of a theater's running crew, and me, who gets $50-80 a week as housekeeper of Clinton House. That's it; everyone else is jobless.
We can ignore the fact that we need money. We're people that are used to living in our heads and depending on the kindness of strangers; it's part of what makes us charmingly bohemian. Misdirection, always misdirection.
Nevertheless, it's there. Or rather, not there. Although this in itself is not too terrible a problem -- most of us can work without nets -- it puts a strain on everything else. Relationships become more desperate as we want to commisserate constantly. If only we all lived in one small apartment, we would always have the support of the troupe; but we'd always be slipping away to have quiet panic attacks.
It's all degrading, like newspapers in rainstorms.
I would say that I'm fine, because I am. I'm best equipped for unemployment; it's easily accepted in my family. But it seems hollow to say that I'm fine when some of my friends are starving.
I wrote an awfully good entry yesterday, but unfortunately it must be heard instead of read. Perhaps I shall upload a wav at some point; until then, you will simply have to envy those happy few who enjoyed a live performance.
Life is tense right now. In my entire friend group, only three of us are currently employed: Merlin, who has had the same underpaid computer job for years, Patrick, who gets paid $100 a week to work odd hours as a member of a theater's running crew, and me, who gets $50-80 a week as housekeeper of Clinton House. That's it; everyone else is jobless.
We can ignore the fact that we need money. We're people that are used to living in our heads and depending on the kindness of strangers; it's part of what makes us charmingly bohemian. Misdirection, always misdirection.
Nevertheless, it's there. Or rather, not there. Although this in itself is not too terrible a problem -- most of us can work without nets -- it puts a strain on everything else. Relationships become more desperate as we want to commisserate constantly. If only we all lived in one small apartment, we would always have the support of the troupe; but we'd always be slipping away to have quiet panic attacks.
It's all degrading, like newspapers in rainstorms.
I would say that I'm fine, because I am. I'm best equipped for unemployment; it's easily accepted in my family. But it seems hollow to say that I'm fine when some of my friends are starving.
