it’s a problem with time. and it’s pretty much the only thing i dont like about whatever small percentage of Scorpio is in my system.
but for some reason i am late to the things i most want to be at.
sometimes super late, like an hour or more.
sometimes im so late i wont even go.
other day all these hot babes, fresh outta college, were having a hot babe party at their huge house they share in the hollywood hills. booze, music, freewheelin like bob dylan. i had attended one of their bashes before and loved it, and all night i prepared and loved preparing for it: i showered, shaved, figured out what to wear.
the whole time i was sipping on my favorite flavor of bartles and james and listening to all my latest jams.
10pm said the invite. 10pm i wasnt even close. 11, midnight. nothing. nearing 1am i started to get sleepy and decided not to go! WTF!
then the other day i had tickets to a rock show. my truest and i were to attend. very excited about both things. and still – late as f.
when i worked at E! we had a rule about “talent”. never tell them the correct call time. and whenever in doubt, dont tell them anything, tell their handlers. to that point, any time one of us did something dumb or spacey we’d call each other Talent.
if you saw my car, youd know im so far from being talent. although at this point in my life i could definately use a handler. but i digress.
other night i had a lovely dinner planned with a beautiful woman of exquisite taste. we had planned an eve out in venice at a restaurant that’s open till midnight. even though i had been thinking about the dinner all night, when i got home i worked on my fantasy baseball, i answered some lust letters, i even changed the sheets of my bed. then i thought to myself that it was too nice not to take in a few miles jog. so i went running. then i saw the gate to the track at the new high school was ajar.
so i went in. i always wanted to run there and for some reason it was open and filled with people using the field. it was beautiful, and proof that i should run at a more decent hour, instead of after midnight like clapton like i usually do.
i ran once around the track but wanted to run twice around there cuz i was feeling so good so strong and the anticipation of hanging with this lovely person fueled me that much more.
when i got off the track i texted her a new time. she called when i had just gotten home and was about to jump in the shower. she was all you suck busblog. and canceled.
i wanted to be mad at her, but how could i, it was my fault. completely. and part of a self destructive pattern. one i had full control of.
a long time ago i learned that being late for things is the most selfish thing one could do. and we all have perfect control over it.
then the irony of ironies, with my sudden free time, i clicked on Real World and the punk rock dude got kicked off the show, thrown out of Cancun, because of excessive tardiness for his “job” there at the resort.
unlike the pierced drummer, my issue is i really love the pre-. i dont mind the actual event, indeed, usually what actually happens is as good, if not better, than i expect. i just get super caught up in the anticipation. its almost as if getting in the car and making it on time *ends* something, which is crazy because it actually is the beginning of the thing i am excited about.
trust me, when i die, i wont be missed.