This is the kind of energy I would like to reproduce several times a week: the call comes in from my agent's office late morning - they would like me to come in because several narrations are due by 5 PM. I book myself for 2:30, drive into SF across the sometimes persnickety bridge, and there is not much traffic, for once. I find a place to park on the street in the bail bonds neighborhood and walk easily to my agent's office. I check in and take the key to the ladies' room. In the hallway I meet the dad of a famous cafe owner whose heavenly spot I frequented almost daily when I lived in North Beach. We have a catch-up about the old neighborhood, his home in the burbs, the new cafe out there, and the fact that he is living my fantasy - at least this part: he has a place in North Beach for those few nights a month he may decide to do the partying, but still has a life away from it all.
I go into the office, pick up a stack of narration recordings, and I am given about 10 minutes to rehearse solo in the booth. I do my voice work, mostly in one take. I am my own worst critic. I seize the moment to say to the engineer jack-of-all-trades, "Maybe I should do that last sentence again..." sort of thing. I finesse a couple of lines here and there.
I am back in the car and on the quirky bridge by 3:15 PM, driving under the speed limit, then do some stuff at home, and go out again to meet my friend for a quick bite at the cool Jazz Cafe in Berkeley (where we listen to a jazz combo through the glass walls, yet can still have a decent conversation), then we go to opening night of "Aurelia's Oratorio," a Frenchie sort of trapeze dance at The Berkeley Rep, an informed surreal presentation, for which I have free tickets, thanks to my ongoing podcast with Kristin... The tall attractive usher is the guy from my local editors' organization, in charge of job leads.
Are my stars aligning?
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