Earlier in the week, I got voicemail from a very funny man. Specifically, a funny Boston comedian, Tony Moschetto, who’s around the Bay competing in the San Francisco Comedy Competition.

I was happy to figure out he’d be performing about 15 minutes down the road from us in Redwood City. And, it was a Sunday matinee, which was pretty damn convenient. The possible downside, if you were like in a 12-step program or otherwise frowned on misbehavior, was I had a Stella Artois in my fist by 2:30 in the afternoon. Been awhile since I started drinking early.

They suitably darkened the room, though, and a nice little performance space it was. A few giggles midday. I still hate comedy competitions, though.

It was great seeing Tony. I always liked him. He’s one of the good guys of comedy, I think, who a lot of folks, myself included, root for making it. Of course, it was a reminder of a sad little bit of truth from my leaving the East. More than one of my friends from East have mentioned that we’re friendlier and closer and all that kind of shit, since I left town and headed West. Mostly, I figure it says that I’m definitely the sort where absence makes your heart grow fonder.

If you dig me a bit as a friend, stay far the fuck away from me and we’ll be tight.

Perhaps not unrelatedly, there’s a shared part of M. and me that prefers not having to associate with the rest of the world. After his Cambridge buddies were in the ‘hood and Tony’s call, there was a bit of a discussion on out-of-town visitors. Since we’ve had a few since moving West, M.’s attitude and statement was “Who’s next?”

Sure as fucking hell, he jinxed us. Sitting in his email box this morning were greetings from his aunt, mentioning the impending visit of the sister of her husband, M.’s uncle by marriage, to San Francisco, along with her Australian husband.

There’ll be time enough to be alone together when we’re too old to visit, I guess. Or dead.

Get in touch and plan your Cali trip so M. and I can whine behind your back. Everyone is welcome.

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