So I’ll shed my usual coating of protective caution and say that I think I rocked the second-round interview for the content manager gig in Hollywood that I’m vying for. If I’m wrong then so be it, but I think I hit it off with the marketing director who struck me as a cool guy I could see myself working for and acquited myself to him as fully capable for the task quite nicely. But we’ll see, won’t we now.

It certainly helped keep me a bit more at ease having this temporary gig in El Segundo (which is Spanish for either “the second” or “the long-ass commute”). If I get the call offering me the job, or perhaps inviting me back for a third interview very cool. But if not I’ll be back at square one (and once again threatening to apply at the MTA for a bus driver position) but at least there’s some money coming in.

This job, or rather its trek allowed me to discover KPFK 90.7 FM today stuck in horrible 110 Freeway gridlock southbound outta downtown today. By that I mean that I’ve known about it for years and at some recent point I even programmed into my truck’s deck, but only today pushed its preset and listened for the first time. My main excuse is that I’ve spent so little time in my truck this past year and what I do is spent listening to JACK FM, but in this case JACK has considerably narrowed its playlist from the heady days of its infancy. So when yet another hairband metal song came on when I really could’ve used some Hot Chocolate or Dazz Band, I punched the button to KPFK and among other very interesting things heard a couple of marvelous and illuminating interviews: one recent one with author Gore Vidal and another archived one from 1990 with recently deceased filmmaker Robert Altman.

Think I’ll stay there on that spot on the dial awhile.

And after a year of my wardrobe consisting primarily of any of my several pairs of my hiking/camping pants, this El Segundo job (along with the personal imperative not to wear the same one pair of slacks and sport coat that only almost don’t fit me to this second interview) forced me to dive into my clothes archives — all of which are still sized when I was bearing the 50 pounds I’ve ditched this year. Thus after selecting five pants and three sport coats I went searching for a neighborhood tailor and found one in Fernando de Manila located at 4849 Fountain Avenue a block or so east of the Scientology compound in Hollywood.

Each item needed serious altering (the jackets hung off me like tenting and the pant waists were hauled in to 36 from anywhere between 40 and 44) and he turned it all around between my measuring session Tuesday afternoon to when I picked it up this afternoon. Nice, and all for under $150. Very nice. If the perfect fit of the combo I wore to the interview is any indication I’ve discovered my new tailor (even if he is a scientologist and has a display of L. Ron Hubbard’s “Dianetics” available for sale).