Dreary Friday, but a day off so it’s not so bad. My mind keeps going back to last night, the tête à tête with Marcus and Calvin. I had about 2 glasses in what I presumed to be nice scotch. 2 glasses (and not rocks glasses, about ¼ of a cordial glass) and I was feeling somewhat loopy.
The third glass set me straight so to speak. One of the things that I remembered this afternoon was the fact that Marcus and Calvin saw how passionate I was in my defense and attributed it to the scotch. They were both further gone than I was and mentioned that it might be a good idea if I came into work after having a drink.
An interesting scenario and one that I have no intention of pursuing. I’m not even sure if I should mention the fact that my riding on Karma Transit, got me home about 30 minutes after I left them in the man cave.
I do have to have a new game plan if I am to play the game and I will not be dealing with Marcus until Monday and I won’t be dealing with Calvin until Tuesday. I have to admit that while I was anxious to attend this tête à tête, I didn’t know what would be brought up.
I still have no idea what cigar it was that they had given me to smoke, all I can remember was that it was mediocre. I’m pretty sure I do not share the mindset of Mickey Blue Eyes and Hot Sauce as Raymond was fond of calling them.
The concept of someone enjoying a cigar differently than the way they enjoy their cigars is totally anathema to them, even though they seem to acknowledge, or at least Calvin acknowledges that no two people see the same thing the same way. In that case for them the movie Rashomon would be a letdown since it had too many conflicting points of view.
But play the game I must, and when someone asks me how things are I will simply accentuate the positive and just lie lie lie. Overall though it was a good meeting, much needed and something that probably should have done last summer or early fall.
The guilt trip was excellent I might add. Never had I been on the receiving end in an employment situation. So today was just getting through all that. Most everything I watched on TV was lackluster from the Daily Show and Colbert Report to Community and the Office.
I had hoped for something funny to laugh at but everything seemed to be off the mark, or it could have likely been me that was wide of the mark. I have been out and about today, mailed a package to dear Billie in Washington DC who finally landed a job after being out of work for such a long time. He was unemployed before I was and was still searching after I started selling cigars and fine writing instruments.
I’m more than likely in for the evening but having written that, I am reminded I have shirts to pick up at the dry cleaners. Sigh.
It’s Monday and I have been off of work today. I slept in later than usual, took a melatonin after watching Time Burton’s Alice in Wonderland and Shameless, the William H Macy show on Showtime. It doesn’t start until January but somehow I found the first episode.
It was pretty good actually, though William H Macy made his first appearance in the last minute. Right now, I am oddly entranced by Claire Danes performance as Temple Grandin in the HBO movie of the same name.
She plays the autistic researcher named Temple Grandin who streamlined the cattle herding industry, which lead to the slaughterhouse (abattoir is a much nicer word). Improvements for the cattle industry, not so much for the cattle themselves.
It’s a very interesting movie, and Claire Danes is unrecognizable as Temple Grandin. It’s a welcome distraction from the day I’ve been having. I’m also watching Temple Grandin instead of the frustration of the news, International, national, local and political.
The day started out alright I guess but the blues did creep in. Just the blues for no reason at all. Perhaps it was because of different things, like books and CD’s I dropped off last week are still listed on my bibliothèque card as being out.
Or going to the dry cleaners as Bill asked to pick up clothes only to find that they couldn’t find them. As I climbed the stairs to the apartment, the dry cleaners phoned to say they found the clothes. They giggled and I grimaced.
.
Just one of those days. The temperature dropped considerably and earlier when I was outside there were snow flurries. I got a text from Roda, who invited me to the Maxwells Holiday party. I’m not going, last year was too awkward and I felt really out of place.
And I was broke last year and could barely afford a pint. This year, I do have some money and could buy myself a pint or two, but I’m really not drinking these days and I do have to go to work tomorrow. Perhaps I will go, if only to drop off a DVD that Kevin Craughn made.
Kevin burned The Radiant Child the documentary about Jean Michael Basquiat that Roda and I had seen a few months ago. But already that feeling has left me and I would be content to stay home. Just stopping by would be impossible since I’m sure a few people I know would be at the party and wouldn’t allow me to leave without having a drink.
I think I prefer to stay home. I have It’s Complicated starring Meryl Streep (an excellent skater btw), Steve Martin & Alec Baldwin. I also have a 2 DVD set of Citizen Kane. Both from the library. I also have Shutter Island from Netflix, so I have choices.
Guess I won’t watch Keith Olbermann tonight. I think I’ll steer clear of frustration, anger and depression. That’s not so bad. At least I don’t think so.
Well here it is Tuesday forme, Wednesday for you. Not much I can do about it. Not much I can do about anything. I’m in the same boat as a lot of people and as far as I can tell, we are all pretty much miserable.
At least I have Xanax to get me through the day. Others use booze, heroin, whatever may be handy.
The latest twist in the saga of working retail, is that next month, I’ll probably have to participate in Monday Night Football. Not playing it, not watching it, just having to be in the store while the game goes on.
And if there is any one sport that I don’t like, it’s football. I already plan on having a good book to read and I’ll likely be writing at the cigar shop and posting it when I get home, which should be sometime around 2:00 in the morning.
I certainly wasn’t asked, but the new schedule is out and one of those games is on my late shift. I’m not happy about but who the fuck cares? I have a job don’t I? So shut up and stop complaining.
Still I continue to look elsewhere for work, hopefully getting out before the holiday rush, but no one is hiring. No word from CVS, Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts. And no word from that guy Ian who offered me a job last month.
Perhaps he’s a flake. He did say I should hear something mid- September or by the end of the month and that is rapidly approaching.
Work was the usual stupid nonsense. Redundant? Perhaps. The ride to work was more of the banal. Sat there at the bus stop as the 10:15AM rolled past me, opting for the 10:30 bis instead. It wasn’t a crowded bus, still some familiar faces got on.
No Angie Baby, but the tattooed guy from the summer walked on board. His birth date is tattooed in a digital manner and it surprisingly matched the small tea cup saucers embedded in his earlobes.
I got off the subway with about 25 minutes to spare and just sat on a bench across from the cigar shop. The Xanax had kicked in so I didn’t really care much. It was Marcus, Calvin and Don with Sean coming in after school.
Some of the regulars floated in and out of the cigar shop and stationed themselves in the back room. Since Don was on the shift, I was able to leave the shop for my lunch hour for the first time in days. It really made a difference, to be able just to go outside instead of looking at the same four walls I would be stuck with for ten hours.
I wandered over to yet another bench by the park, had a cigar and read some of the New Yorker. I miss having a camera. I have a cellphone camera, but it’s definitely not the same thing.
I left the shop, around 9:13 tonight and to my surprise it was pouring out. I never see the weather outside. Still I plugged in the second half of the Buzzcocks, A Different Kind of Tension. Mainly heard I Don’t Know What to Do with My Life, Money, Hollow Inside, and A Different Kind of Tension.
By the time I got to the bus terminal, I Believe came on and since that is a 7 minute song, I’ll round the time to 17 minutes and 15 seconds. Probably would have been shorter, but it was raining after all.
That’s about all I have to write about. Bill is sore after training with a physical trainer.
Written at work. 25 minutes to go. Xanax seems to help. Had to increase the dosage from half a tab to a whole tab. I’m working solo. Just counted the safe surreptitiously.
Usually one person mans the front and whomever counts the safe is safely hidden in the back. Well being the only person I did the counting with an ear for the chime that rings whenever someone breaks through the electric eye.
Last night I had a talk with Ray, a friend of Pedro’s I’ve known Ray for a while and though we’re not as close as he and Pedro, we do look out for each other.
Now written back in Hoboken.
Ray was a bit of a runaround back in the day but lately he’s been posting very positive messages on his Facebook page. Probably since he’s settled down since he now has a daughter that he may have seen some light causing the philosophical change of life.
I sent him a message the other day, asking him about his job. Turns out he’s been working at a boutique hotel in midtown. We spoke last night at midnight. He mentioned that there was a management takeover and some heads rolled.
He got my hopes up saying that there maybe a front desk position or a position taking reservations. It was a good talk and I hung up and went to bed feeling somewhat optimistic. Slept rather well too. No dreams that I can remember, but I haven’t had cannabis freed reams in a while.
Ahh the joys of self medicating. Bill was up and out by 6:00AM, leaving me to sleep until 8:30 when I eventually stirred. It wasn’t the usual 8:00 today and it hasn’t been for a week or so. I try to get as much sleep for myself lately.
Nice breakfast, the usual- coffee and cereal after a nice shower. Some time spent checking emails, drinking coffee and finishing up a cigar that I had started last night. It was so good that I even smoked it walking to the bus stop.
And since I wasn’t done with it, I let the early bus go by and waited for the second bus. I’ve written before that I haven’t been reading much at all on the bus headed into the city and I just zone out, staring out the window wondering how long Troy Towers will be precariously located on the side of the Palisades.
A trip through the Lincoln Tunnel, depositing me at the bus terminal where I walked through to the subway, taking routes that irrational people take. To my luck whether good or bad, the train was approaching the station as I stepped onto the platform and soon enough I was back in front of the store.
It was Marcus, Calvin and myself. I would be working with Calvin, effectively making me a prisoner of the store for an entire 10 hours. Due to their ineptitude I am not able to leave for my hour to myself. So I sat in the backroom, trying to bury my nose in a book.
Unfortunately the closet case opera singer came in with some of his buddies (who don’t know that the chubby old money dowager empress is in the closet) swishing his way about despite a false front of machismo. He has a son, he can’t be in the closet!
Still it’s not my place to out someone from their ample sized walk in closet. The day mainly passed by without incident. Calvin split at 7:30 and I was there, solo until 9-ish. My friend My friend stopped by and it was good to see him.
It’s been an intense 48 hours. And I had off from work but still work, or the concept of work, specifically the cigar shop crept into my life. As you may read what I have written in the past, I’m not happy working at the cigar shop.
It’s certainly taken it’s toll. I know, you’re reading this and probably thinking, ‘what a whiner’. And maybe it is whining. But I’m despondent. Despairing even.
At the cocktail party at Rand and Lisa’s where I of course explained how unhappy I’ve been working at the cigar shop, telling them about the bomb scares, how I feel I am working in a target zone, they were sympathetic.
I even discussed with Lois’ husband Fred, working at the supermarket.. He makes even less than I do now, and feels the spot is managed by assholes. So basically it was not suggested that I work there. Lisa works at Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken and told me she would keep an eye out for me if something popped up.
A few vodka tonics and everything was fine. Came home and went to sleep. But when I woke up, the last dreams I had were concerning work, leaving me to wake up feeling there was no escape from the cigar shop, even when I am sleeping.
It certainly tainted the rest of my day.
Things did get a little better later on when I was in the supermarket buying milk. I heard a voice behind me telling me that I should buy the organic milk. I ignored the voice at first and when it was repeated I turned around and saw it was Ira Kaplan.
It was good to see him. I hadn’t seen him since before the holidays last year. I asked him how Yo La Tengo were doing and he mentioned that they were about to go on a tour of South America. I asked if they needed a roadie and he said they didn’t, and in any event it would involve a lot of hard work.
But, it was good to see Ira. I asked about Georgia and he said she was doing well. I always liked Ira, I never had any problems with him. Plus he always got my jokes, no matter how obscure they might have been.
Singing ‘Papa John Creach’ to the tune of Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach is what springs to mind. We were having such a nice chat that I even followed him to the check out even though I wasn’t done with my shopping.
I came home and did some job searching which caused more despair. Bill was napping and before he napped I suggested that maybe we could take a walk around Hoboken when he woke up. He said maybe and when he woke up he told me he had to go to a meeting in the city, so no walk for us.
That left me with the blues. I watched Zombieland which was alright. It had a few surprises, and some pretty stupid plot points. I still think Jesse Eisenberg reminds me of a younger Ira Kaplan, but that may be residue from Adventureland which Yo La Tengo did the music for.
I made myself a nice dinner for the first time in weeks, penne, pesto and chicken again and enjoyed it greatly. Even posted it on Facebook which some friends liked.
After dinner, as I wallowed in my blues and despair, I got a phone call from Bill. He was on the bus and asked if I needed anything from the store. I told him if he was going to the store sure, but no special trips for me.
He asked if I wanted a pizza and I said I just ate. It turned out that he ordered one already. It was funny since when I was growing up, on Sundays my family would have dinner at 2PM on a Sunday afternoon, then in the evening we’d have pizza, and I was thinking about that earlier in the day.
I told Bill, that I would more than likely find room for some pizza. And I certainly did when he came home and the delivery arrived shortly thereafter.
I took half a Xanax before Bill called and after that phone call, came the call from hell. Really. It was Harpy.
“Why do you always have penne, pesto and chicken? Why do you think you work in a target zone? LADY CAPS LOCK said you wrote ‘Fuck retail’ on your Linked In status. Why do you sound so bitter?”
Oh my gods. Here was one of the most bitter cantankerous people on the planet complaining about me being bitter. I couldn’t take it. Any good feeling I had from talking with Bill on the phone had dissipated listening to Harpy who didn’t even sound like he was half in the bag, not even two sheets to the wind.
I couldn’t take it and let him know. I usually just let him prattle on, but here was the second person in a few days not being very sympathetic when I really needed some sympathy. It was almost like my father used to say- ‘If you’re looking for sympathy, it’s in the dictionary next to syphilis.’
I got off the phone with Harpy after angrily telling him to go fuck himself. Then I went to Linked In and saw my status saying ‘Between jobs, between worlds’ something I wrote soon after I lost the last job. I couldn’t resist and called Harpy up saying that “LADY CAPS LOCK is a fucking idiot and so are you for believing her!”
Of course I don’t think they’re idiots, but I was hurt and felt kicked and picked on when I was really at a low point. The other half of Xanax was then inserted into my mouth. But it couldn’t act fast enough, since I watched Boardwalk Empire and could not get into it because of the anger I was feeling.
Totally forgot about Mad Men (perhaps too close to home since I was still quite mad) and we watched Freaks and Geeks. Bill was off to bed and I stayed up stewing until the other half a tab kicked in. I went to sleep, telling Bill in his sleep apnea mask that I loved him so much.
And I do.
He’s been there for me lately when it seems no one else is. And that is one aspect of love, that I love. My mantra is shot to hell by the way. Saying ‘at least you have a job’ really means nothing when death sometimes seems like the only viable option.
And no I wouldn’t do that. It’s a selfish act and I am not selfish. Nor would I hurt those people in my life that really and truly care for me. I’ll keep running for the shelter of mother’s little helper.
Today was a bit better. I woke up to find a message on my computer screen- “Happy 10th Anniversary Baby!! I love you very very much! Ya d’oh!” Yes, today is our 10th anniversary. I thought it was tomorrow, but tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death.
I sent Bill a message in return, “I love you, oh yes I do. From the morning to the evening, Oh I do, so love you. Happy 10TH Anniversary my Sweetheart. Ya big!”
I did see Stine with Alexander briefly. They were coming in as I was going out. He’s been playing ‘shy’ with just about everyone and he did it with me. I asked Alexander for a kiss and he turned his cheek to me. Stine says that he doesn’t kiss anyone lately, but will turn his face for a peck on the cheek. He’s so much like his father in that regard.
I ran some errands and cooked some eggs for breakfast and read the paper. Dropped off the Big Star compilation at the bibliothèque as well as Zombieland. I did pound the pavement in Hoboken. Went to CVS, Rite Aid, Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts, applying for work in each store. Of course, each store told me to go online and fill out the application.
I feel if I’m going to be miserable working retail, I might as well be miserable close to home. The 40k salary that I was pursuing is fading fast from view, so working for 8 or 9 dollars an hour seems the way to go.
And I did get a haircut today. My barber, Tony is still out with a broken arms and I had his replacement Dora cut my hair. She cut a mole on the back of my neck, didn’t trim my eyebrows, nose or ear hair nor did she try to cut the gray hairs out of my goatee.
She did find the time midway through cutting my hair to reply to a message on her blackberry. And it was about a 20 minute haircut, where Tony would have me in his chair for 45 minutes.
I won’t be seeing her again and intend to tell Tony’s son Nick about it. Guys on death row would probably avoid having their last hair cuts from her as well. She was horrible and I would have preferred getting my hair cut from Benjamin Barker.
I want to live with Bill, surrounded by Morning Glories.
Getting ready to work the late shift again. Had some interesting dreams last night, specifically a dream where I was in Manhattan, around 57th Street.
I was at a bar which resembled the Carnegie Club, but it was a gay bar and instead of being behind Carnegie Hall it was right next door. I had some books or magazines and needed to get home but something kept me where I was.
I left and walked towards 6th Avenue, and soon I found myself in a taxi driven by a chatty and obliging driver who dropped me off near the bar I mentioned before. I got out of the cab and walked around a bit, when I realized I left the flip flops I was wearing in the cab.
I went to a store across the street from the bar and found some European merchants who sold me a pair for $3.99. Then I headed to the bar but I couldn’t find the entrance since there was a lot of scaffolding erected.
That’s when I woke up to the sound of Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran. Not my favorite song or band, but it certainly got me out of bed. Overcast day. I watched True Blood last night.
So much happening. A very fast hour. Nice butt on Eric. But I’m not an ass man, man. In started to watch Treme afterward when my old friend and former roommate Kevin called.
It was a fun talk almost 90 minutes. A wide range of subjects were touched on, friends, alcoholism, drugs, family, movies, Maxwells, bad choices and of course, art. Kevin is one of the best artists I know and it’s good to see he is still at it out there in Pennsylvania.
I am now friends with him on Facebook (which he recently reluctantly joined) and MySpace. My MySpace page was covered in cobwebs since I hardly ever go there. It was funny to find he’s friends with my sister in law Elaine’s nephew, John.
I made two new play lists for the store, one of Maria Callas with a smattering of Kiri Te Kanawa and another list of Django Reinhardt. Last week when I played the very long play list, when some opera came up Marcus was greatly impressed with it and I tried to find some more.
Unfortunately I had maybe two other songs which went into Malcolm McLaren’s Madam Butterfly. Last week I also raised some eyebrows when The Bird & the Bee’s song, Fucking Boyfriend came up.
You’d think that a room full of men smoking cigars wouldn’t have any problem with Inara George singing, ‘would you be my fucking boyfriend’, but they did. No one complained outright but a few comments were made so in order not to ruffle these sensitive feathers, I deleted it.
That as well as Bodies by the Sex Pistols.
It’s an overcast, muggy day and they’ve been saying that it might rain later on. For once they may be right. I’m wearing a suit that I don’t think I’ve worn in about 6 years. I wonder why that is.
I’m sure I’ll find out. I’ll be working later on and notice a tear or something that will remind me, just why this suit has been hanging in the closet. Better the suit than me I suppose.
