Intermittently segmentalised spectroscopy.

If I do not write much of working at Hartman it is not because I do not love it but because its waveforms lack the alternating peaks and valleys of exhilleration and despair which characterise the life I lead by night. Its hues are almost infinitely subtler. My attempts at writing thus far glory in irreconcilable extremes.

Today at Hartman I arrived at work at noon. I packed 42 SUNA samples, 5 HHAH samples, and 24 boxes of orders for UPS. I weighed all the boxes and recorded the weights. I then packed the remaining postal orders in the order PM, FC, BK. I then went upstairs, retrieved letters, brought them downstairs, sorted them, folded them in the machine, enclosed the appropriate business cards, placed them in envelopes, and sealed and metered them.

This took almost precisely four hours.

Then to a meeting. A good one. So far they're all good. Really good. I'm lucky.

I think that I can safely say someone was at the meeting tonight with almost a month sobriety who, last time I saw him, was flirting pretty shamelessly with me at Foxes. Nice guy, really. Shameless, maybe, but not pushy. Even respectful. And good for him for keeping off the booze. I think my presence in the meeting must have scared him. He sort of gave me that unmistakable "where exactly do I know him from" look. I should have said "hi" but didn't want to drive him back to drinking trying to remember.

Then to Foxes.

My reports in the incident log are beginning to follow a familiar pattern. So-and-so showed up, extremely drunk, we wouldn't let him in, we didn't serve him, he went off wherever, this or that direction, or drove off after we offered him a saferide and I tried to keep him here for x number of minutes by all legal means at my disposal before we just could not detain him any longer. Short and simple. No drama. Lots of details. Little confusion. Two such entries tonight. One guy I wouldn't let in fell over face first in the parking lot and Alex and I called four different phone numbers for National Security which *no one* answered even one of. (Useless.) The guy left only to get picked up by APD across Wisconsin where he'd collapsed on the sidewalk outside McDonald's.

Alfredo finally came back. I told him clearly, at the door: you are NOT allowed to come back in here. EVER. I opened the door for him and showed him out. Then watched him walk away knowing that he was being watched. He's had his last drink at Foxes and I poured what was left of it out in the floor drain in front of him. Where will he go to drink? Ranch would never let him in. Ditto for AMC. Blue Spruce and Yucca Lounge and Last Chance Saloon are all long gone. (Yeah -- Foxes survived 'em all.) He doesn't come close to meeting Caravan's dress code. If he wants to drink at this point he'll have to make other arrangements.

The Turkey Ranch show tonight raised money for NMAS Turkey Baskets. Had a lot of fun working the door. Only six performers showed up so was a short show. (Won a nice gift box for a wine bottle and traded with Bobby who won some jelly he didn't want so everyone's happy.) Not many customers, either. Whole week's been slow, and Friday night shows are always a little iffy.

Tips, though, have been getting better. So apparently has business, generally. Fewer nontipping morose street people getting fucked up on long islands and more guys drinking whatever else and conversating with eachother like they should. The drama factor in the bar is way down. Off the scale from what it used to was. For the most part we no longer let in people who start problems and we back eachother up bigtime. If any one of us says "no more for him", that's *it* where everyone's concerned, no questions asked in front of customers, no recourse for the customer but maybe try another night, unless on *very* rare occasion somebody *knows* Chip, *really* well -- not just as the bar manager who wants to sell another drink to them but as someone important in their life who they can trust.

Rick -- did I write about him? I forget. I think I did but didn't post it. Anyway, Chip scolded him like a little baby ("shame on you") in front of everyone for driving home drunk after I called him a saferide the other night (I wouldn't let him in) and babysat and flirted shamelessly with him for 45 minutes until the cab came only to have him leave on his own at the last minute when the driver told him he couldn't stop for cigarettes. Talk about feeling vindicated. The poor guy was shamed in front of everyone. Not because we take delight in cruelty, either, but because we take that sort of thing *extremely* seriously. He could have killed someone and landed us in jail and closed the bar all in a single stroke if we'd served him. Sorry Rick, had to be done. And no I am not going home with you, ever. Call anytime, though.

The place is getting cleaned up in a big, big way. Chip and I mopped and shined the floor again last night so it was nice and shiny. Painted most all the walls except around the dancefloor and behind the bar itself, which is, well, complicated. New coolers coming soon -- real new coolers, too -- not used. The transition continues.

Tomorrow night is Martinique's Stepdown from Miss NMGRA. Will likely be a busier show night. Scary to think about it being *her* big night, but there you have it. Struck her speechless today making a pretend "nosering" for myself with a tinfoil candy wrapper. Literally lost for words. She *never* is. Bitch though she is, she is the reigning master of the quick comeback, the so-tastelessly-appropriate-you-have-to-laugh-out-loud offhanded comment. I can expect revenge tonight, and plan to take it all in stride.

The guys still flirt with me but all the regulars know they are basically getting nowhere, so for the most part it turns playful. The only ones I flirt with in return are those that I want something from -- specifically, that they not drive out of our parking lot right then. (Sorry guys, but one new rule: I don't hook up with guys I meet in bars. Get over it.) It almost always works. I pull it off for long enough for saferide to show up. Called four tonight. (One guy, Adam, was too drunk to let in past the foyer but had been in before then left for a couple of hours and came back and god bless him he was really nice and sat and waited for the cab with zero troubles and zero flirtation and we sort of chatted as the show wrapped up.) They get home without going through county jail and don't kill anyone that night with liquor in 'em that they bought from us, so what if I have to pretend I'm even remotely interested in them beyond their corn-squeezings drenched breath, glazed craqueleure eyes, and the general speed and direction of the pendulum they appear to be standing upon. If they drive off after I've gone through that, they stand no further chance with me, and know it unequivocally whenever they return. (Like Rick. Sorry my man, but you are *poison* in the bar right now. Get used to it or take the saferide home next time.)

I don't do certain things now that I did a couple of weeks ago. I doubt I'd ever call another customer "pathetic" to his face like I did to Alfredo. But hell, he was giving me a majorly hard time while I was trying hard to help him, threatening me with jail and even death for something I knew that I could prove I didn't do (but he did to himself). Solution? Prevention. Don't let him in in the first place.

Oh, speaking of prevention. There was one fun moment when a truck with Texas plates pulled up. Five straight guys got out. Asked what kind of bar it was. I'm from Texas myself, welcome to Foxes. Started messing around with eachother in such a way I wouldn't let 'em in. This really *is* my world. Yeah, there's AMC right down the street, too. Before they tore out of the parking lot I was on the phone with Bill from AMC telling him loudly so he could make it out "red chevy truck with texas plates five straight guys" and he said he'd rally the troops. I'm sure he did. When the AMC contingent came in later they mentioned it, but not anything about "problems" so I suppose whatever I did was the right thing more or less to do.

I just took a bath and am drying off before I head to Southwest Acupuncture College. The recruiter's been leaving messages like mad but I have never called him back. I need to go in person. My situation -- why I'm not finishing up those final hours so I can enroll -- is way the hell too complex to explain over the telephone. Still I'm grateful he's been persistent -- there have been many times his calling to leave a message has refocused me. And goodness knows I have got plenty of distractions.

Trick now I think is to transition into Acupuncture College without a break -- keep myself busy with the jobs but as the sentence starts to wind down fill my time with schoolish things. That way I'll have something positive to work towards and reason to stay sober. Alcohol deranges Qi. I want to work with Qi. I can't do that and drink. It really is that simple. It will be tricky, I've no doubt, but heck. I can do it. Nobody thought I'd still be working Foxes. Much less completely sober. Nobody ever thought Foxes could, let alone would get cleaned up.

Anything's possible.

Enjoyed SW Acupuncture's open house. Will register for treatments in the clinic this coming December. They're *that* far backed up. Time to head out for Ferdinand's party.