January 27, 2014, 6:45am

I am wildly, madly in love with Chris Brokaw. I watch him sleep in his giant king size bed and I just want to hang out with him but he will not wake up. He is sleeping all day and it's making me crazy. Doesn't he have work to do? I try to rouse him, saying, "You have to finish The New Year record, you're running out of time!" He rolls over and mumbles, "(garble garble nonsense) Matt Kadane! (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)."

I guess I'm going to have to finish The New Year record myself. I reach into the drawer of the bedside table for a pen and paper, but it's empty except for a gun. A handgun! Unloaded, but still. We would never have a gun, and immediately I know it belongs to another of Chris's collaborators, the troubled one. This has gone too far. I am going to have to give him the What-For.

I know that he happens to be in court this day, because of his recent Indecent Exposure charge. The courtroom is giant and empty, more like a ballroom, and he is standing onstage with a judge who is looking over his glasses at this ridiculous perpetrator (played by Sam Rockwell) who has come to court in satin boxers and a robe and nothing else.

I realize this is a lost cause, so I leave. I'm going to meet Charla Reid at the bakery to help pick out treats for her combination Chinese New Year/Mardi Gras party. On my way there, I walk through a bunch of little Asian and Mexican grocery/convenience stores. All the Korean stores have aisles of maracas and sombreros, and the Mexican stores are filled with rows of Chinese fireworks and papier mache dragons and red envelopes.

It's good that I happened on them, because when I get to the bakery, Charla is dismayed to find that they only have Polish pastries now, which won't work for either side of the party. I point out the convenience stores near my office, and we figure out where to order beads and king cakes online. The day is saved!

Since I'm at the bakery, I pick up treats to take to the first meeting of Joel Derfner's sixteen bridesmaids for his upcoming wedding to his husband to whom he is already married. I'm honored to be included and so thrilled to see Joel, but these ladies are insanely high maintenance. They seem to think that they get to make all the decisions, and Joel just pays for everything. I suggest to Joel that he and I go get a drink and some shrimp cocktail and catch up, but really I am giving him tough love about his friends, who should be helping him, and working to fulfill his desires for his wedding, and paying for their own damn dresses and hair and makeup and whatever. Those bitches didn't even like my Polish pastries.

January 24, 2014, unsure of the time...

We are having another wedding. ANOTHER ONE. How many times can we do this? It's at a summer camp in North Carolina where two of Chris's young cousins are working. This celebration is for the Pennsylvania branch of the family - some aunts, uncles, and cousins of Chris's whom I've never met [because they aren't real].

We are staying in a really swanky hotel - large, with Georgian paneling and pilasters, too many elevators that stop on mezzanines, crowded with fancy people. My parents have a room down the hall, and we are waiting for my brother to arrive from London.

We drive over to the camp to visit with everyone there - the whole family has driven down from Pennsylvania and New Jersey and we hang out and visit at picnic tables while pre-teen campers do camp things with camp counselors.

Chris's cousin Victoria (played by Victoria Alden, our actual quasi-cousin) stomps across the grounds and starts complaining about how her kids are not learning how to sing properly. She has a Master's in music, for heaven's sake, and no one listens to her. I try to explain to her that kids are not really that interested in her academic credentials, and if she wants to engage them, she needs to choose something that is fun to sing, that they can move to, that they are motivated to learn well and stretch themselves for. She scoffs at me like I'm a complete idiot. After all, these kids signed up for camp chorus, when they could have been sailing or making lanyard bracelets.

This is a weird place to have a wedding, I think.

We then go over to the other cousin's cabin, where he is sitting in a pile of messy bedding on the floor playing video games. Chris's cousin is Jesse Eisenberg, actual Jesse Eisenberg, not just played by Jesse Eisenberg. He and his surroundings are filthy and he isn't wearing any pants. I tell him maybe he should put on some pants, and he scoffs. These cousins apparently think they know everything.

Jesse used to be an Olympic swimmer (I notice he is rather fish-shaped, though I try not to stare, because he's not wearing any pants) and he's bitter because now he has to lead swimming activities at this pedestrian summer camp. He makes an extremely lame, quarter-hearted attempt at seducing me, in front of Chris (he doesn't even get off the floor), and I just roll my eyes and say, "We're here for our WEDDING. The THIRD ONE. Sheesh."

We go back to the hotel to get changed, and my brother finally shows up with two huge steamer trunks and about 30 suitcases. My parents are thrilled. Am I the only one who thinks maybe he overpacked?

January 23, 2014

4:40am

David Calvitto and I are spies. Our duties consist primarily of patrolling the empty streets around the James Island YMCA (where I swam and did gymnastics as a kid). We are watching and being watched, even though we almost never encounter other people. It's like a ghost town and I jaywalk like crazy! It's very satisfying. Sometimes I push a stroller for cover, but surely anyone can tell it's empty because I race with it through the streets, weaving and bouncing.

The other project we are working on is reviewing local Seattle documentaries for screening at the Northwest Film Forum. Most of them aren't very good, but there is one by international bestselling mystery author Lisa Scottoline that we like, about the intersections between Shakespeare and crime. She's really pushy though - she won't stop calling. Finally we agree to include it at the Film Forum, because Ken Holmes has offered to be her handler. He tells us his wife's name is Lisa, so he feels competent in the area of negotiating with people named Lisa. [NB: I am sure Ken's wife in real life is very nice and doesn't require special handling due to being named Lisa. I wake up feeling guilty about this completely unfounded insinuation.]

6:50am

The GIA offices are now at Seattle Center, in a big open floor plan, corporate-cafeteria-style building. The whole staff meets at a large high table near the empty buffet line. Everyone is sitting quietly, so I ask my boss, Janet, if she has heard back yet from the Dodge Foundation about whether or not they want to continue with the Arts Education Funders Coalition. Janet stares off into space as if she doesn't hear me. I realize everyone is staring into space, and I'm the only one talking. Then they all get up to go put on the play at Book-It.

I need to run an errand first, and besides, I'm playing the old cranky granddad, and I only have six lines, which I can completely wing, even though it's been a month since we last performed it.

I start walking down to lower Queen Anne, because my old friend George Weld is having a going-away party, and I want to drop in to say goodbye. There are people milling about everywhere, and it's taking forever to get to the house where the party is. There are adorable children running around and I want to chase them, but I am running short on time. Finally I get to the party, and George is already completely wasted. Well-wishers have been plying him with booze all afternoon and he can barely stand. I say my goodbyes and best wishes, but I know he won't remember later. That's okay. He's going on to better things.

I head back out and the people traffic is even thicker. The show is about to start, and my entrance isn't for awhile, but I'm starting to legitimately worry about being late onstage. I debate skipping the costume - it isn't really necessary for the old grump, although I'm not wearing any shoes, and that might be odd. I feel like it's all going to work out fine. [It is so nice to have performance dreams without the anxiety now!]

I get to the northern edge of Seattle Center campus - so close! - and reach a physical impediment - the sidewalk is closed because Randy Ramsey and Ariel Kemp are burying a pirate ship in concrete. They are very friendly and talking in pirate gibberish. It's great to see them both, and this project is AWESOME. Why doesn't Seattle Center have a pirate ship half-buried in concrete?

8:54am

Margaret Carter is having us over for homemade pho. It's delicious and very noodley. Chris starts digging around in my bowl, uninvited. I ask, "What are you looking for?" He says, "The EGG!" In fact, there is a whole egg at the bottom of my bowl. I hand it to him.

We are sleeping over at Margaret's before I have to be at the airport, because the GIA staff is now helping out the ground crew for flights going to our conference. Joshua and I are sleeping in giant puffy white beds side by side. My childhood cat, Princess, is sleeping on Joshua's bed, but I make noises to get her attention. She jumps on my bed, walks up my body, and tries to take something out of my mouth with her mouth. She's very strange.

I get to the airport early the next morning. I drive slowly through the parking lot where a young boy, maybe 8 years old, is driving a red Prius up and down the hill, back and forth, and then flipping like a skateboarder on a half-pipe. He's so cute (he looks like Kid President, in hindsight) but that seems a little dangerous.

Abigail and I are assigned to a gate together. The actual airline employees are all dressed like '60s stewardesses. So stylish. I am supposed to be checking people in next to the gate, but there is one passenger - a businessman in an expensive suit - who keeps demanding that I sell him a ticket. I tell him over and over that we are not airline employees and can't fulfill transactions, but he ultimately forces his $432, mostly in ones, on me. I take it to the stewardess lady at the gate myself. Humans!

January 22, 2014, 7:45am

I am living in ChicagoBrazil (you know the one). Driving an old beater late at night through the streets of SouthSideSaoPaolo, feeling a little bit nervous and vulnerable because I'm alone, and it's a dangerous place, I'm told. I get stuck in an odd midnight traffic jam, so I abandon the car in favor of sliding through a long metal chute to get back home. It's pretty rickety, with lots of landings to step out on, and lots of random metal parts to get caught on. You can't go very fast. But I make it to my destination eventually. I'm wearing a poufy red taffeta gown that I made myself, and even I know I look ridiculous. Like Ursula the Sea Witch. But I like it.

I'm in my kitchen (the one from my childhood), packing to go on the Bob Mould cruise, which will start in Chicago and go down the Mississippi, through the Panama Canal, and on to Los Angeles. It will take a month. While I pack, I'm making breakfast on the floor, on a tiny George Forman grill that is made out of Tupperware. How does it not melt? I'm breaking up little pieces of breaded soy chik-en patty and grilling it with a red pepper. It's cooking very slowly, probably because Tupperware can't conduct heat. Chris comes in for breakfast and I realized he's left his greasy chorizo on top of my vegan patty. (Is this a dream?) I'm irked, but I show him my new lime green bustier anyway. I'm really excited about it because it will show off all the weight I've gained. I'm very plump and fleshy and I'm REALLY excited about it. Also, I dress like Cyndi Lauper now.

Becky Reynolds comes into the kitchen, because she lives with us. She is extremely nonchalant about the fact that we have to be at the airport in an hour, with the car parked. Where are we going to park the car at O'Hare? For a month?? Why do we want to spend a month on a boat with Bob Mould? I'm a fan, but that seems a little bit excessive. We don't even know if Chris is going to get to play any of the shows on the cruise ship. This scheme seems really foolhardy to me now, and Becky is just as blasé as she can be about the whole thing. I need her to care!