Saturday, November 12, 2005
7:17 AM

A Saturday morning at 7:15 Why the hell am I awake? Could be that I went to bed last night around 9:30ish. I tried to stay up to watch some new Comedy Central shows, but that didn't happen. Some comedians hate watching other comedians, either on TV or live. While they maintain that watching other acts can get in their heads and some 'new' material can appear outta no where, I'd like to think I watch comedy to see what's hot, what's getting the attention and figure out what am I doing that has me in bed on a Friday night when I should be in a club somewhere, anywhere.

I experienced two Chicago firsts yesterday. 1.) I walked down to my laundry room and at the bottom of the main landing right next to the steps slept presumably a homeless man. He was wearing all black: coat, hat gloves, pants. Even his bag was black. What was more interesting is that he had a really nice mountain bike. Call me crazy, but I'm guessing it's not really his. I mean if you resort to sleeping on the concrete floor of an apartment building, things aren't going so well. Brand new mountain bikes don't just fall outta the sky.

And it wasn't that cold yesterday. He appeared to be bundled well enough to brave the elements of nature and nap in a park somewhere. But ... then his bike might not be there when he awakes, which is how he probably got it in the first place.

I all but had to step over him as I turned from the bottom step and headed to the laundry room. He was snoring, too. The nerve. Then I wondered if he was either washing some clothes or waiting to steal some. Being that my load was a single one consisting of only a duvet and two pillow shams (expanding on said items later), I figured to be safe from any thievery. Also, being on the fourth floor I felt safe from his entering my apartment. No way are the homeless gumptious enough to climb four flights of stairs for your shit. Sure the elevator was nearby but I don't think he knew how to use it. At least I was banking on it. Besides, if you're homeless or just a bum and fit enough to make the four-story juant, you're in better shape than many people with jobs and a 401(k). So get to work already.

2.) It happened while in my apartment. I was on the phone. It was maybe 5:30 p.m. Much honking and siren-blaring on the holiday afternoon during rush hour. Then came a BAM. "I think there was just an accident right outside my aparment," I said to Christina. "Lemme look." Sure enough a guy rear-ended another guy. Now since I live in a predominantly gay neighborhood, guys rear-ending one another is usually the norm. However, this occasion called for a police man, possible handcuffs and a nightstick. Okay, so even that is possible within the gay community. They love to role play. All I'm saying is that one car hit another car and before I could snap a picture, they pulled to the curb and exchanged info. It was more of a fender-bender and nothing worth watching for too long. I just wish I would've seen it happen. Then I could've been in the middle of it and also told the cop about the homeless guy napping in our building.

Such an eventful night and it wasn't yet 6 o'clock.

This morning's coffee is good. First pot I've made at home in a few weeks. I've had quite a bit of coffee lately. With my already crooked and camel-colored teeth, one would think cutting back on some coffee would be wise. Then again who's that 'one' and why is he thinking for me? Fuck 'em.

I slept last night, for the first time, under my new down comforter covered with the camel-colored duvet. My teeth aren't actually that color but I like alliteration, especially with c's and k's.

Since I washed both the duvet and the shams, they're mine now. No exchanges or returns of any kind. I have two rugs, one hanging on my closet door and the other between the foot of my bed and the TV. They're both from my military comedy tours overseas and hold a special place with me. Some comedians look to their Emmy's sitting in a trophy room along with their first development-deal check as signs of achievement; I look to cheaply made rugs.

There's a lot of goldish and maroon in both rugs. Initially I thought the camel duvet would be too plain, but it blends well with the rugs and the maroon sheets. But those sheets aren't my fave, which are cream with light green stripes. "You need a woman in your life," an ex-girlfriend voiced as we spoke yesterday. "Sounds like you have a lot of color schemes goin' on." Again, it's a studio apartment so I'm not too worried. It's not like people were ever gonna be wowed by the decor.

I talked with my dad yesterday. "Why didn't anyone tell me about Uncle Pete?" he asked. "Because you and mom have been divorced for 18 years," I said. "I didn't think it really mattered to you." And it didn't but my dad just likes to know what's going on, whether in life or death. As a single man literally living out in the middle of nowhere, aside from a phone and a TV, he's cut off from civilization. I know he's got friends from work and all but he had tons of family and friends connected with being married. He's lost touch with all of them since the divorce.

I often times wonder what goes through my dad's head about his life and his family. His parents are both gone, each dying when I was in high school. His long sibling, my Uncle Jack, died in 1998, leaving my dad as the only one left. He seems to not be bothered by it, though. He's healthy and appears to be in good spirits whenever I see him. When we talk he always tells me my brother and sister never call unless they need money. "I'm done with them," he says. "I know. Let's talk about something else."