I am not really supposed to drink coffee or have caffeine in any significant quantity. That’s because I have a problem with my jaw (similar to TMJ, but not quite as serious) where the muscles are strained and kind of tight; since caffeine makes muscles contract, it usually makes the pain a lot worse. Since I rarely drink coffee, and only sometimes have a cup of decaf, I’ve gotten to the point of being a caffeine lightweight. When I do drink it, I get like the person in this very funny McSweeney’s piece, “Confessions of a New Coffee Drinker.”

But it’s hard to stay off the black stuff completely, because it is awesome. It tastes good and it makes me energetic and buoyant and chatty in ways I’m usually not. So it is today. For no real reason, I had a cup of coffee this morning. Walking home from the 61C, taking in the sunshine, seeing all the little old ladies in their babushkas moving with their walkers, I thought of many funny things that I immediately forgot, smiled effusively, and in general enjoyed the long downhill walk home. Once home, I put away all the dishes in my dish rack and washed all the remaining dishes in the sink. I may do some laundry after this, but for now I am typing at an accelerated rate, answering e-mails in a jaunty fashion, and sort of squirming in my seat.

But that’s neither here nor there. I have been thinking that this weekend is my first “real” weekend as an unemployed person. In reality it’s the third weekend since my last day as an employed person, but the previous weekends saw me uncharacteristically busy: the first, I had a guest, ID, and last weekend I went home for my brother’s bachelor party. This will be the first weekend spent in Pittsburgh in the normal fashion: hanging out with friends, laying about, going for long walks, and so on.

That description sounds eerily familiar. I can’t quite place it . . . Oh yes—those are exactly the things I’ve been doing every day for the last week or so.

Yesterday a friend (who has been unemployed since late October) suggested hanging out on Sunday night. I sort of flinched at the day, since I’m so used to Sunday being a “school night.” When I recalled the circumstances, though, I remarked that every day was Saturday now. In general that’s been great. But I wonder if it will be strange when it’s actually Saturday. From past lay-about periods—breaks in school, or last May when I was looking hard for a job—I recall that I’ve always found it kind of frustrating to go out walking and find the streets and sidewalks suddenly crowded.

A friend of mine has cajoled me into going to a downtown club tonight. Apparently there is no cover, and I think the experience might make for a good experiment for the blog. That’s because my friend has repeatedly lectured me on the simple “secret” (which is what he calls it, to tease me) that when you go to a bar or club, you don’t have to drink. Not spending money fits my financial outlook for the moment, so I feel it’ll be worth a shot. But dancing and talking to strangers without a drink or two? It may be more daunting than it sounds.

Also, last night I went downtown to see Francois Truffaut’s The Wild Child. Honestly, I did not care for it, although the performances, especially by the actor playing the “wild child,” Victor, were pretty excellent. I think I’m a plot man, and this one verged on documentary: this was pretty much a factual account of the case of the “Wild Boy of Aveyron.” So it was a little boring. But that’s just one man’s opinion.

It bears noting that every Pittsburgh Filmmakers screening (as this one was) is a bargain, especially for me: it was $3 with my Pitt ID, which makes it super-inviting to go and take a chance on a movie I’m not sure I’ll like. I will never stop saying it: Pittsburgh Filmmakers is one of the great treasures of Pittsburgh.

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