With the weather cooling down, the get togethers are heating up. For all kinds of reasons and with all kinds of people, I am reconnecting with the different strands of society. A month ago, it appeared that everyone (including myself) had gone their own way, never to return back to the friendly get togethers. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. World Series, softball, and football. Elections, birthdays, anniversaries. From now until the end of the year, the social season has begun. This week was a microcosm of what is to come for the rest of the year. So good-to-see-you, what's-new, how's-it-hanging, and all-the-best-to-you-and-yours. We're going to make it through 2002. I can feel it:

Monday: Reconnecting with one of my oldest and freakiest buddies. Some of his art pieces live in my house. Trying to get together with him the last few months has been like putting a message in a bottle, throwing it in the ocean, and hoping for a response. I had 8 DVDs that I borrowed from him that needed to return (among them Alphaville, Vanilla Sky & Reanimator). We ended up going to a buck-fifty showing of Bourne Identity and watching the feature with a critical eye. We spent fifteen minutes after the movie talking about weird casting, nifty moments and plot development. The guy and I took a 16mm filmmaking class, and we still hold onto the pie-in-the-sky dream of making a full length feature some day. Don't-be-stranger, when-are-free-again, you-take-care-of-yourself.

Tuesday: Softball with the brother and his workmates. Since late August, we have played for Chuck's Ducks in a co-ed softball league. We are the worst team in the worst league, but we have nice hats and shirts. Hey, what-are-you-up-to, what-position-am-I-playing-coach, we're-going-to-win-this-one, go-ducks. I played third base, committed one error (throwing the ball far off-line to first), struck out at the plate, and was replaced by an equally inept player after a couple innings. I spent the rest of the game on the bench, cracking jokes with the other replaced players and feeling completely humbled as the Ducks failed to get three outs in any inning (the mercy rule of 7 runs was invoked), and we lost 28-4. No one can really point fingers at other because we all seem to sink to the occasion when it is our turn to perform. I honestly won't miss being a loser every Tuesday when the league games finish up next week, but there's merit in humility.

Wednesday: Getting together with a journalist who has always been supportive of the creative community. I hadn't seen him since the spring. We ate bar food, checked in on the World Series, and rattled on about our current strangeness. He wants to run for mayor in couple years touting an art-friendly policy. He helps run the local film festival and was fictionalized in a recent novel as a video director. I told him about my current employment and the upcoming play I'm slated to direct for January. We chatted on about the creative class and our desire to perform and produce a unique product instead of making thousands of dollars. How's-your-kid, you've-got-my-vote-guy, the-creative-class-will-rise, and all-that-cal.

Thursday: Stayed home, watched the World Series, and then the Beatles movie A Hard Days Night. If left to myself, I will lie on the couch, slowly inebriate myself, and watch sports and movies. God Bless America.

Friday: Theatre Night! It was my weekend to take care of the black box theatre. Shmooze with cast, crew, patrons and volunteers, give a curtain speech, and watch the Spike Heels for the third and final time. This was the final weekend in a four week run, and the actors put on their best performance to date. Almost made me think I could accidentally fall in love again. Thanks-for-coming, please-come-back, good-show, well-done, nothing-but-quality. And off to a party for a musician friend who is leaving town. Wild Turkey and Fat Tire. Musicians, artists, and long conversations of unimportance. Nothing but drunken smiles and warm feelings. Sees-yooze-soons, when-dooze yooze-leave, gonna-mizz-yooze, Wah haaahaaahahaha.

Saturday: Script reading in the late morning, watch and review Punch Drunk Love (a twisted P.T. Anderson love and madness movie with Adam Sandler), eat BBQ, go to theatre, shmooze and greet patrons, give curtain speech, watch World Series and Real Genius, and stumble out late to a birthday party for an actor friend. A shot of Jamison, Rio Grande beer and tokes from a Hobbit pipe. Almost everyone is someone I know and conversation to have. Two sheets becomes four sheets to the wind, and chatter, chatter, chatter comes from every direction. An extra hour. Day light savings is dead. Fall back, fall back. Arms around guys and long hugs with girls. The fuzz and buzz surrounds me until I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going. That's when I realized that society needs all these get togethers and more to keep us from becoming snipers and madmen. Wow.

Sunday: Wake up, drink coffee, turn on computer and wonder "What am I going to write about this week?"

Chris Jungle tries to always party hard, party hard, party hard...