thirty days

I arrived in the Bay area nine months ago, with a $9000 bankroll and a dream. Such exorbitance...the first time in my life i'd been anywhere near five digits. Under normal circumstances, it should have floated me job-free for a year and a half, free to save the world.
Thirty days ago, after paying my $680 rent, my fortune stood at $200. I'd been trying (and failing) for two months to find a reliable part-time job that didn't crush my spirit. That had never been a challenge in the past, but all i'd found were a dribble of one-offs. I was thirty days away from being confronted with something i'd never faced - eviction and homelessness (not to mention a blow to my artistic dream of having my voice as a writer be a more significant part of the humyn conversation...plus making an actual living through the products of my creativity).
The four months i'd been in San Francisco had been all i'd hoped for. I'd become a fixture on the open mic scene, with four regular gigs a week, plus irregulars. I'd had some amazing, humbling feedback, and been accepted into a community of wonderful, often brilliant artists. I'd done virtually nothing to try to turn my art into income, for several reasons: the feeling that time was on my side, my non-pushing/non-selling personality which prefers to let things happen organically, and the inertia that comes with mild depression/PTSD.
Almost nothing had happened that might be construed as putting me on any path toward artistic self-sufficiency, so i knew it was time to be more proactive.
I had lost a month or two and a chunk of money to family vacations, both back east and exploring California. I'd lost three months and a bigger chunk of money in a hellish limbo on the other side of the Bay. I'd finally found a home in the heart of Haight-Ashbury, with a rent that would be well-nigh irreplaceable if lost. Of course, that "fantastic" rent was more than i'd ever paid in my life. But not hugely more, and we don't worry about such things in my world. Yet now i was faced with simultaneously trying to kick-start my artistic dream, and find an instant, reliable income. The longer it took to find the latter, the more the former might suffer. To say nothing of having a personal life, and time to write.
Being evicted was probably never a serious concern. Both parents offered to loan me money...a safety net not available to the majority of the residents on planet Earth, who everyday face far more stark material realities than mine, simply as a matter of being alive.
But my thirty-day clock was ticking. My needs were simple - $1000 a month. A decent-paying job for two or three days a week would do it. My scramble was on. In addition to whatever work i found, there would be time burned every day searching ads, making phone calls or e-mails...
WEEK ONE
-Two days on a furniture delivery crew, with one boss and one other worker, and more time spent traveling than lifting. It was the third time i'd worked with them. They were good company, and it felt perfect for me. Something physical and mindlessly zen which i would never have to "take home". The boss liked me, but didn't have the shifts available to be a long-term solution.
-I began the process of becoming a professional dog walker with Rover.com. I'd have preferred arranging my work through independent means as i almost always had, but after two fruitless months...
TOTAL HAUL - $200
WEEK TWO
-Three hours assembling Ikea furniture for a womyn in a fancy home (the last hour for free, because she was stressed and i try to please). I worked while she and a neighbor watched reality TV and read tarot cards and got boozy on white wine. The off-putting aroma of the idle rich didn't sit well with how attractive i found the neighbor's personality (and ass). I had walked into the middle of a job someone else had started, with three huge pieces all the same color. I'm not positive i even had the proper directions, and i apparently put some hinges in the wrong place. She called the next day to tell me my payment had been rescinded (i got a nice TV which had been destined for the curb, though).
-Ninety minutes lugging bags of mulch and stone into a garage. My fellow worker and i also moved a four-hundred pound marble slab (creatively and efficiently, i might add).
-One session helping a theater student prepare for a big audition...canceled at the last minute.
-Ten days of unending hoops and corporate conformity with Rover.com finally kill me, and i abandon that path.
-I turn my daily hour and a half of ukulele practice into busking in Golden Gate Park...and make a buck or two each time! I realize that if i became homeless, i could make all the food money i need by making music. Don't think it isn't tempting...
TOTAL HAUL - $28, a TV, two lemons, and a poem...
"Unemployable"
Did you ever hear that famous author interview -
"What would you be if not a writer?"
"A flophouse bum...
for without writing,
i am utterly unemployable"
Self-deprecating or self-congratulating?
The interviewer doesn't ask...
But the audience smiles and nods
Happy to believe talent
IS rewarded
One more bullshit mythology
But for a writer...
Intolerant of hoops
Disdainful of grindstones
Allergic to paperwork
Crucified by conformity
For a writer with pockets that echo
Two weeks from rent time
Unemployability is a gut punch
Not a fucking punchline
WEEK THREE
-One day on the furniture crew. It really is enjoyable - stefan treats us to yummy lunches.
-Two half-days in a sweat shop, assembling magnetized wooden all-purpose remotes. If you have to be in a sweat shop, this is the one - a cap on shift length, and $25 an hour. Plus pretzels!
-Fifteen minutes in a sound studio, recording my voice for a study on accents. $50!
-One session teaching improv to a couple theater amateurs...cancelled at the last minute.
-I begin the paperwork to join Varsitytutors.com.
TOTAL HAUL - $300
WEEK FOUR
-One day on the furniture crew. Stefan wants to move me onto the payroll (even though the job isn't a permanent solution, and might become a casualty of said solution).
-Two days at the sweat shop. Not a long-term solution (and i don't think i'd want it to be, even with the great pay), as the business is moving to Boston in a few weeks.
-The tutor thing is proceeding well - i'm cleared to teach! But the way things are going elsewhere, i don't need to be a go-getter on this, and i'm not sure i want to. It might be enjoyable, or just another pain in the ass.
TOTAL HAUL - $300
MONTHLY HAUL - $828
Going into that last week, making rent was still iffy. But i do, and then some. And not to imply that the universe has a sense of humor, but after a month of soul-crushing stress, i'm already booked the first seven workdays in May, which would cover all of June's rent. Yeah yeah yeah...money money bullshit bullshit. What a fucked-up world. So okay, i get to devote the last few weeks of June to getting performance gigs, and agent-calling, and THAT bullshit.
Anyway, come visit my little slice of heaven in the Haight. It's mine...for at least another thirty days.
I love you all.