the site meter tells the story

incidentally, just because i don't post too often doesn't mean i'm not checking that site meter to see who's peeping in on my business.

when i see folks from a city i coincidentally know rather well rolling through multiple pages of my blog, that definitely gets my attention.

and when i can track that i.p. number to the site meter of a few blogs i know of, that makes me think someone i know is trying to track me down.

well, are you?

if so, please do me the favor of not linking this blog to anything of yours that puts me in contact w/ folks from back in my day. i purposely like to keep my identity on the d.l. so as to be able to speak somewhat freely on this forum.

not that i have any great beef with anyone reading this, otherwise i wouldn't be posting any of my thoughts on the internet. but at the same time, if you gotta hunt for my blog instead of me telling you the address.....ahem.

just be considerate, that's all i ask. this sistah ain't in to no blogging drama.

hot child in the city

now that the summer has nearly gotten away from us (say it isn't so!), it's probably time for me to revisit this blog and actually use it for its purposes. and just how has Agent99 been spending her time since memorial day? wisely, says she!

* caught a few live productions: "side show" @ the theatre building, a hilarious scripted reading of "the jazz singer" screenplay @ neo-futurists, something @ steppenwolf that i can't recall the name of and my friend Wry's one act play featured in speaking ring theatre's vitality festival.

* heard a few bands: dr. john/the neville brothers/ preservation hall jazz band @ ravinia, cowboy junkies @ morton arboretum, macy gray @ the taste of chicago, a nifty celebration of curtis mayfield's music @ the hideout, sam shaber @ the speakeasy

* hit a few festivals: printers row book fair, wicker park fest.......um.....i thought i was trying to attend more of these this year? this list still seems really light. hmm.

* been booking some voiceover work: tv and radio commercials for a big old national gym chain, industrial video for the nation's biggest pharmacy, a couple of animated videos of stories for the kiddos, radio commercials for a southern cable provider & the gigantic department store chain making everyone in chicago lose their damn minds over changing the name of marshall fields. secured my first joining status in the actor's union, aftra. hear that the only folks excited about their affiliation w/ the union are those who've just gotten in, and i don't care. it's a definite step upward for me in my career, so i'll take it. and i shall be proud of myself.

* staying in chicago vs. summer travel: been home to da lou a few weekends and have stayed put enjoying this grand city of mine all the remaining time. even when i'm not doing anything of note, there's nothing like walking WeeBeastie on the lakefront or just strolling it alone for exercise. (my legs are still squaking from a couple mile push i did there w/ Widge and Mermaid yesterday.) long live the independent bookstores and coffeeshops on so many corners just waiting for exploration and lounging. cheers to savoring brunch and chatter w/ girlfriends on sundays. here's to a plethora of incredible outings for around $10, like mca first fridays and tuesdays on the terrace. summer is good times in chicago.

more than anything, it's been a time of adjustment. the Mole and i are attempting to stay in each others' lives in some fashion and figure out how to be friends. i've met some new lads and have been out and about a bit, but am keepin' it real as far as any committments are concerned. going from living with a boyfriend to having a gay man as a roomate has thankfully been a drama-free change. after turning 32 recently, i've been trying to reschedule my time by filling it only with activities and people who are positive influences. i'm starting to feel a bit more "ball busting" as of late.

and the summah ain't ovah yet.

i'm the train they call the city of new orleans; i'll be gone 500 miles before the day is done

here's a draft missive i recovered from late march of this year:


i'm back from another visit to da lou, continuing on my 'two weeks in chicago, then out for a few days' plan that began in october. the folks are hanging in, best to be expected with everything they're going through. it's a very interesting thing to be dealing with these major illnesses and the parental units at my age and theirs. i truly implore anyone who has parents that are still healthy to thank their lucky stars for it. blessed be those who can discuss trips their folks are taking in retirement rather than when the next round of chemotherapy is coming or how to expand one's lung capacity beyond the 50% marker. i suppose i shouldn't complain. i made it nearly to my 30s before these issues became daily concern -- many of my friends had already lost a parent by the time we were in college. perhaps i've been luckier than i feel as of late.

so, adventure was mine in getting to union station for my southbound amtrak last wednesday. neither of my personal cabbies were driving when i needed transport, so i went against my better judgement and chose not to order a cab from united american and just hoofed it to ashland (for non-chicagoans, this is the closest major north/south street to my crib) to hail a driver off the road. as i started my walk, i spied the ashland bus tearing away from my stop and figured the #9 would be nowhere to be seen when i got there, so i started working my 'hailing with authority' stance in order to attract one of the three occupied cabs i encountered. i should mention that i left the crib @ 4:20 to hit my train leaving at 5:15 and after 10 minutes, with nary a cab stopping, the #9 came ambling up again to my shock. i figured i best jump on that thing in case the cab sitch remained bleak and i now know that there must be a better way to get to union station than that which i elected to take. made my first connection @ the ashland green line station, forgetting the massive amount of stairway to heaven once must slug up to get to the platform. 42 steps, and yes, i counted every damn one as i played pack mule with a plump suitcase, backpack and messenger bag throwing the pressure on my joints. if i'd been travelling for work with all that gear, i'd have been toast. (and, incidentally, if a band that has their fair share of gear to contend with deems my conference barrels to be a royal pain, you do the math.) i'm starting to sweat the time a bit on the el, but am distracted by the loop route's architecture. i do miss me some city views now that my office is in faux suburbia (literally straddling the border between city of chicago and inner burb) and i must drive to work rather than hoof it on the bus or el. i transferred to the blue line (31 steps down to the tunnels), with the clinton stop being the only place i can remember climbing off to hit the train station (33 steps back up), yet forgetting how far that damn stop is from the building of tracks. needless to say, by the time i hit the doors, the clock outside is telling me i gots five scant minutes to race in, collect my ticket and get my ass on that outbound train. oh, shit. i hit the door with some spring in my step, and briefly consider giving my suitcase the "untouchables" treatment by shoving it down the stairs made famous for carrying the baby carriage into the middle of a showdown, and think better of it. (i've lost track of my stair count, but there was another nice batch here.) zipped through the station til i hit the amtrak ticket counters and immediately slide into one manned by this dude i recognize as being snippy with me in the past. i have to interject here to mention that i have had multiple run-ins with the folks working the inside for amtrak, yet the peeps running the trains themselves have been gold every single time. what gives? you know, they get to work in this beautifully restored train station, managing not the insanity of the metra trains (commuter rigs for suburban destinations, and a veritable ton of them coming and going all day and night), but just the routes running out of town. i've never witnessed any hysteria they've had to deal with, though surely they get some antics occasionally. the point i'm trying to make is that i'm beginning to take issue with the shit they likes to sling my way, and after this round, i think i'm going to start throwing back my own brand of attitude in their faces from here on out. and nobody really wants that, i can assure you. so i'm giving this crab ass ticket taker my driver's license and sweetly ask if my train is running on time. instead of saying, "boy, you're cutting it close. you'll need to hurry out to the track.", this asshat *barks* at me, "you're gonna have to run!! understand? i said, run! they're not going to hold that train forever! (big sigh of annoyance as he tosses my ticket at me) just sign that on the train, and run! go!!" now, i can already feel my hip slinging back into 'i'm gonna let loose on your ass' mode, but damn, i gots to run, so he was spared.....this time. and there won't be a next. seriously, like i wanted to be running all over the el to get to the station and be late! i wanted a damn cab! (and will never hit this station again without one.) so, i'm running, and when i say i'm running, i mean i'm like charles bronson in "the great escape". my legs are on fire and i'm dodgin', bobbin' and weavin' through scads of people, miraculously never entangling with anyone in this obstacle course. at one point, i nearly collide into a line of folks boarding another train, when in one fell swoop, i snatch my neck pillow out from the handle of my suitcase, drop the handle down and snatch that bag airborne as i do a hop/skip/stag leap through this line, drop the bag on the ground and whip it back into wheeled motion, never stopping for a second. as i hit the boarding area, another bitch at amtrak is shrieking the last call for my train and i come racing up with my ticket out and say, "i'm on that train." and what do you think i got? another round of attitude as if this slag's wrists were gonna get snapped if that thing didn't leave on time. if i hadn't been in perpetual motion, she too was gonna get an earfull. i hate to be all 'this customer pays your bills', but damn, keep it real! amtrak has been threatening to release this route from chicago to st. louis for years and i, as a bi-monthly passenger, am effectively helping to keep their shit running, so don't go there with me. you know that scene in "evita" (c'mon, i mean, who doesn't?) where peron is telling his cabinet who all hate the first lady not to derive satisfaction from the fact that she's slowing down and can't be in their biz as much as before. he sings, "she's the one who's kept us where we are." and they echo back to him, "she's the one who's kept *you* where you are." amtrak, i help keep you where you are, so let's show a smidge of courtesy, okay? i can fly southwest for about $30 more than taking that tardy train, so you best recognize and keep me and the other folks like me somewhat pleased with your customer service skills. i kept running to the train and finally encountered a lovely conductor who actually carried my bags on for me -- with nary a snippetty tone to be reported. glad to see me, welcome aboard. that's what i'm talking about.

the ride home was lovely. i was on the texas eagle which has a delightful viewing car that perches you high and allows you some nice scenery through extra wide windows. had we not been subjected to viewings of "the outlaw josey wales" on two mach five volume tv's in that car, i could have stayed the entire ride. spent a few hours there, then headed back to my seat to read a bit of "shampoo nation" by douglas coupland. enjoyable.

as always, i felt that familiar tug in my chest when we rounded the first curve into the city, revealing the skyline i'm deeply in love with. whether i'm returning from a flight landing at o'hare, driving home from work or heading into the city from highway 55, that skyline makes me relax immediately. "welcome home, old friend. you are exactly where you should be," it whispers to me, soothing my road weariness immediately.

the firsts of the spring thaw

ah yes, two months of blogging silence are broken today. Agent99 has been going through a few life changes that have been demanding her attention, most noteably a shift of personnel in her household. the Mole and i are taking time apart and it's been a strange thing to live alone again after three years. a strange thing to be without my man, but something that will help everyone in the end. last week i began doing things at the apartment completely on my own. small things that Mole once did, but now i do, like taking out the trash or putting the rent check in the mailbox our landlord collects from. the chilly air is really leaving chicago and i'm starting a new chapter. the thaw has arrived.

believe i'll utilize my blogging forum more often again. appreciate all of you who kept checking in to see if i'd ever speak again. i predict a summer of sassy verbage from yours truly.

for now, i offer you verbage i love from mr. kurt elling, jazz singah extraordinairre. the song is entitled "esperanto".

how did smoke learn how to fly?
where do birds go off to die?
why does coal sleep in darkness?
do dreams live in apartments?

is a number forever?
where's the soul of the water?
how old is old november?
no one here can remember.

if i die, where does time go?
do the bees still vertigo?
to get love is their potion,
or is love the only motion?

in which woonsocket remembers the crucial details

i've been on the d.l. for a few weeks and am back with some selected thoughts and rants.

my favorite rhode islander and i met up for tapas the other night @ "n". (where's that spanish tilde when you need it?)

we're chatting about a business excursion when she queries, "isn't that the guy whose lap you were all up on?"

"somebody's lap? who are you talking about?" say i.

"ah, i don't know. don't you remember telling me that story? you were on a business trip -- i thought this was recent. and you were all up in that guy's lap," said she.

(long pause.)

"well, i'm gonna have to think on that one for a minute........ i'm gonna think on it!! can you believe i just said that? (cackling outrageously) like it's *totally* possible this actually happened and i just gotta figure out who's lap i was perching on! oh, that's too much!" said yours truly.

"yeah, right? i know it was something you did on a business trip," she offered.

"shit, who the hell was this? i'm really wracking my brain........are you talking about that drama boy i went to puerto rico with? that wasn't biz, but i worked with him," i pressed on.

"no. no, it wasn't that. i'm sure this was a work trip," she said.

(she scratches her chin thoughtfully.) "jeez, who the hell was i creepin' on? was i creepin'? can you remember? this is cracking me up, yet disturbing me slightly as well."

we never came to any conclusions at the n, but as i was typing that last line, it suddenly occurred to me who she was talking about!

i was in d.c. on my final advertising foray, working a trade show for a client at my agency. we'd hired some "survivor" folks to hang in their booth and work a dinner for their key accounts. a limo was sent to pick up our entourage at da hote and there was scant room for any kind of seating, so i found myself gingerly placing my buttocks on the lap of my main player. and.......and, well, i know why my friend is remembering this incident (such that she could remember it). this man was on the extra hefty side, i ain't judgin', but he was and being squashed in to his lap put me a smidget too close to some nether-regions i had no business encountering. sighing relief, i can say, no, i was not creepin' on any biz associate past. i know he wasn't trying to get all up on my booty, but it gave me the wigs all the same.

quite a memory old Woonsocket has.

i have of late, but wherefore i know not lost all my mirth. this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.

in my aggravation of the day, i can only muster some bullet-pointed commentary.

* my job title is "agent". sometimes that means "p.r. maven", sometimes "keeper of the key", sometimes "hard core huckster". today, it means "fire fighter" and "cancellor of dates booked". i booked two shows yesterday only to have them yanked from my hands today -- after the contracts have been issued. argh! a sistah be dependent on this shit, you know? makes me wallet angry.

* voiceover on the upswing. had my first major paid gig on friday, spouting poetic on a new carpet product and that's all i can say about it, as i signed my life away on a confidentiality agreement. but there's pay coming to my pocket, and for that, i'm quite happy. picked up another agent in chicago, one who does only the non-union and claims the bookings come straight from my demo on their site. bring it on, yo!

* just found out my grandfather passed away -- last wednesday. his gracious "second family" decided not to notify us, thus letting my mother get this bit of news via a friend who read his obit in the newspaper. sons of bitches, these people. he's being laid out today and of course, i couldn't get home in time for the funeral tomorrow. now, had i been told of this LAST WEEK, i could have made appropriate travel arrangements. my mother will be flanked by my brother and cousins at the wake today and informed me that she's dragging our last family portrait in to the funeral home and displaying it right by the casket so peeps will see this man had family beyond these resentful wretches who surrounded him at the end of his life. not that any of us were remotely mentioned in his obituary, mind you. i feel pretty numb to this news, since it's been years since i was "allowed" by his hateful wife to see him, but there's some resentment bubbling below the surface that i can feel right now. how dare these fuckers? it's probably best i'm not respresentin' at this event, knowing my propensity for spouting off at the mouth. i can just picture myself telling them not to put that faux grief display on when they laughing all the way to the bank with his money -- not to mention everything my grandmother slaved her life away to provide for them. damn these people for making my mother so upset when she's in the thick of this cancer bullshit.

* in the immortal wisdom of the sorority rush process, we shall end the discussion on a positive. today is fat tuesday, new orleans is struggling, but staying alive, and i shall celebrate my nearly home tonight with rounds of bumpus and mucca pazza and perhaps some jambalaya. i think it's apparant i need to jump loose some stress.

my "starter husband" chimes in

contrary to popular wisdom, you *can* remain friends with an ex. really. now, i wouldn't say it's a guarantee across the board, but i've been fortunate enough to stay on level ground with one who i grew up with for nearly six years, back in the mid-college to early working days.

he's married now, and thankfully not to me. there's no snark in that remark, because he's good peeps, but i'm glad i held fast over those years, dodging three engagement rings and coming out unscathed. i was spinning off in my own direction and he stayed firmly planted in his own. we seem to have plenty in common now, as his mother is also in a major cancer battle. haven't seen him in a few years and likely won't anytime soon, but we do correspond on a fairly regular basis.

here's his latest dispatch to me:

Yo Chiquita...

I was thrust into a trip down memory lane over the weekend, when we were kicking it by a cozy fire, drinking our cares away with another couple at their lake house at the Ozarks, when on pops (one of my old friends).

Wasnt he the groom at the wedding that was held on the surface of the sun in mid-august at the First Church of Holy Fuck its Hot, where your boob kept wanting to sneak out for air from that purple thing you were wearing? and where I couldnt go to the rehearsal because of his crazy ass mom? and the reception was in the backyard?

Is this him? If so, what was his wife's name? Wasnt she the one who used to have phsycic visions of stuff, and was usually right on target?

Of course I was giggling to myself while remembering sitting in the hotel room eating pizza while you were at the rehearsal, even though as I recall I was working at kinko's and printed the rehearsal invite's at a deep discount and his wacked mom STILL said I couldnt come.

I know over time history tends to get altered as it sits untouched in the brain, so if I'm way off please advise. I was surprised that I remember details so vividly.

Peace
MyEx

no arguments about past perceived woes, just past nonsense traipsing through our memory banks. i wish this relationship with an ex on everyone.

when business and fun collide

Agent99 returns from a boston operative vastly feeling the effects of five+ solid days of hand shaking, massive amounts of dope and date bookin' on roughly three hours of sleep nightly. this is how we do in college entertainment, y'alllllll!

(i should add here that certainly not everyone is smoking sweet green at these events. just me. and a nice handful of folks i know. what everyone *is* doing, most certainly, is drinking. alot. that i can speak of.)

now, before i get further into this post, i feel compelled to mention that i've been working on some greenie brownies and am beginning to feel *very* good. i've been getting caught up on e-mail and the Mole came into the office and said, "i think i'm starting to feel these a bit." "yeah, me too. i've been listening to the roots and i can't sit my ass down! i've been slow-jammin' by myself all around the kitchen," as i gave him some of my step n' slide/tree pose/drop it like it's hot.

wanna see the steps to prep our snack? it's cool to be curious.


a simple box of brownie mix. just like mom used to make.


two bags of "get me by". and let me tell you, when my guy tells me, "no, baby, don't buy a bunch of this shit from me. this just some get me by," i know he ain't playin. he's well aware of my propensity for smoke and quality judgment thereof. this is the man who calls me immediately when "the good shit" arrive. and he delivers to my crib. yes friends, not only in the massive city of chicago do i have my own personal cabbie (see references to Gonzo), i also have a guy who delivers sweet green to my home addy. it's a godsend.

please, conservative readership, don't wig on me now! perhaps take a moment to say, why, that Agent99 can be so clever in her blog. might marijuana not be the evil we've always thought? i must tell that i no longer drink and my only vice is a kind natural herb. and i will further say that a calm, funny stoner is much preferable in my book to a loud, confrontational drunkard. knowwhati'msayin?

so, after you hook up some of your lesser dope (and i really recommend this because if disaster befalls your baked snack, you don't want to be out some serious outdohh on a grievous stove choice), grab the grinder and get to work.



we elected to load up only half of the pan with our herbal additive. again, this is from me having past bad episodes with ruining good weed and having nothing to show for it. Interestingly enough, the half sans dope turned out really flat and dry, cookie-like. the side enhanced is much better in the moist and chewy factor.

and it's doin' its job.

so, i had biz up east and i think i best give a peep into this subculture. it's certainly like nothing i've ever experienced in my working life (or any place in my life, for that matter). um, let's see. it's the only place i can think of that pits traveling vaudvillians of the likes of hypnotists or guitar strummin' crooners against inflatable lazer tag stadiums with wax hands clapping away in a steel cage match for their sole source of income (all in a padded cage, fully insured to minimize the possibility of accident or fatality, of course!). follow? living folks who perform a variety of acts are hustling against dudes who are carnival specialists to grab up as much share in this market as they can. they're depending on making contacts at these conventions, and while i'm depending on them, i'm also depending on me and my ability to close the sale, so to speak, for the benefit of us both. i handle the bookings for a roster that's a mix of the live and breathing and the portable equipment. we collectively belong to this large trade organization that joins colleges with agents and vendors who provide every whim and fancy to enthrall the young academics from alaska to maine. the organization separates itself into regions who have their own conventions every fall. this is why i was in portland in november (reference my fierce pics of seattle and the oregon coast).

then, there is the gigantica national convention. last year in minneapolis, this time around in boston. i hadn't been through boston since i was 10, and even so, it was en route from logan airport straight out to the cape, so i'd never really seen the city. and, yeah....i still haven't really seen the city. the conventions are *time intensive* and escape from the hotel/convention center/rotunda/walkway/skyway/underground railroad tunnel escape system roads one must journey daily to conduct one's business is usually limited to a two hour dinner on the town. if you can squeeze that in. so, you find yourself navigating the same three square mile radius with, in this case, around 3,000 other versions of you wearing college sweatshirt/business suit/hipster duds/fashion emergency costumes for a long weekend that somehow feels like you've gone through a full-blown summer camp experience in a few sleep-deprived days.

oh yes, i must take a subject break and make record of this chat i just had with my man.

Mole: oh wow, i think i'm really high. (gazing at WeeBeastie and stifling back laughter) i was just thinking what if you were in a forest....

Agent99: (stopping her blog typing and swiveling around on the chair) ooh, go on. this gonna be good!

M: (totally cracking up) i....i ....i was trying to think of something.... (more laughing)

A: (enjoying this immensely) you mean about WeeBeastie? was she up in a forest? (totally losing it)

M: ..... i don't know....

A: no, no! keep on with it! i like where this is going! what was WeeBeastie doing?

M: i think i was trying to say what if you were walking through a forest and instead of stumbling upon a pack of big animals, like bears, you came up on a group.....(he's dying laughing again)

A: of her? a bunch of terriers?

M: yes! or, like if she were what was considered really fierce, like she would tear in to you and bite, and we had her here? ....it'd be like having a bear up in our house!

Mole still laughs his ass off, all the way to the freezer to resurrect a box of fish sticks. Agent99 returns to her blog.

that's a good segue to mention what's cooler than cool about doing a job in this highly unusual atmosphere. the people. i feel pretty qualified to speak of good working situations versus ones where i've definitely had to play the game not in my own persona. now, i'm an actress, and i still have some chops in that department, but too much acting too far away from your true blue ain't the way i want to spend my life. certainly, any job involves some game playin' (in my case, the "business mask"), but this is the only time i've been banking my livelihood on allowing my work behavior to skirt to the neighborhood borders of 'what you see is what you get'. it makes things much more relaxing for me. from all the previous advertising jaunts to rinky-dink flyover cities, at least in this line of work i get a bone thrown my way occasionally and hit some urban locales that i'm interested in seeing. and you really do find yourself in class reunion mode when you encounter these folks. there are agents i see at every single conference i hit and some are only at certain regions. an early conference pal who produces a rock explosion showed up this round, and i hadn't seen her "in the circuit" for ages, so it was very cool to reconnect. some performers seem to creep around given areas more than others. there's a cool band i see at one of my regions, and usually at this behemoth national extravaganza. really, the big turn out is here at the national gig. because you're in the mix with alot of creative types, you're guaranteed to find someone to discuss any topic with, in complete seriousness. you'll pick up conversations that ended six months prior. occasionally a year prior. there will always be an opportunity to throw a three dice/three dollars game similar to dreidel. someone will inevitably be interested in your deep dark secret of sorority life and will pry the secret handshake out of you in a moment of weakness, your judgment clouded by the haze from the city in the sky. the hotel barney fifes will "bust" the final night in the lounge. peeps will be taking their time rolling out of there, probably distracted by free cheese and cracker trays, keeping the embers of the campfire alive. these things are common fare and are good. never in my touring, non-equity performance as advertising executive could i have spent time on a *business trip* kicking it with likeminded fellows, tackling important issues such as the bathing habits of chinchillas, transcribing harry potter characters into this organization's dopplegangers, creating photo essays of the bar scene, strategizing over a schedule of events to shoehorn in a coveted cat nap -- anywhere possible. i'm by no means an open book in a work sitch, but at least here it's not uncommon to have an ongoing discussion running with your seasonal cohorts about things rotating through your life. i had a few of the peeps question me on my standings in specific areas since we'd last met, pretty much picking up where we'd left off. it's a bit odd for work, but i dig it. where else have i been able to fan stalk a broadway star, skulk through bars of frat boys, or dissect the workmanship of a bicycle tire tube belt? are there folks there i avoid like the plague? a few. have i learned a fascinating amount of gossip and back history on this hoard of mismatched associates? you bet. are the comings and goings of the cast of players their own entertainment? happily, yes. overall, is it a sweet situation in which to earn some coin to live on? absolutely.

yeah, and i learned from a native how to bust in to this bad boy. it was a bit of a chore, but worth it. i learned to love the lobster on that childhood trip to the cape, so this was coming full circle.



i'm nowhere near recovered from this trip.