Dear You
Ok, so I didn’t remember to write yesterday. I was so damn tired. More rain, never stopping, made my bones ache. So tired. It was a washed out day. Interviews cancelled, then rescheduled. Dopey doofus me feeling. Lot’s of the usual bullshit. No way to figure out how to start. Had a meeting with someone on line who just exhausted me. I for once ran out of things to say, and if I wasn’t so tired, I would’ve run away.
We met at the Time Warner Center by Columbus Circle at Davidoff. We both smoke cigars, so that was out touchstone. But it didn’t go any farther than cigar talk, the basics, no gar sex talk, just, “I like blah blah blah. What do you like?” I wasn’t looking for depth, and certainly got no stimulation.
But Barry was his name and he was a nice guy. Not my type at all, but nice nonetheless. We wound up walking from Time Warner to 37th and 6th. He certainly talked a whole lot. I oddly enough ran out of things to say. So I said, ‘Really. Oh Yeah?’ a few times. He did drop a few phrases that I use that often, like ‘Doesn’t suffer fools gladly’. No one uses that one anymore.
The interviews which seemed so promising earlier in the week, no longer seem to be that way. I am writing this at work which could mean this item is the intellectual property of Wanker Banker, which accounts for my half heartened effort. No big deal.
The ridiculousness of my coworkers never ceases to amaze me. How they remember to breathe astounds me.
I received an email from B, William Vaseles Charas today. He’s still into Sinead O’Connor and wanted to know what I’ve been listening to. I rattled off Bowie, and quoted “freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah’. I can see him smile at that. I lived with him for 11 years, believe it or not. As Rand said, 9 years too many.
It wasn’t all bad, but the bad parts showed more and more towards the end. I do look back fondly on the cheap rent.
Supposed to have a ‘date’ with Bill tonight, but haven’t heard anything from him. Perhaps he too will flake. We all do at some time. No response to the email I sent a few minutes ago, perhaps I’ll check again.
Just checked, and no answer. C’est la vie. I will be checking until 5:30.
I should get into detail about what is going on with us, but with intellectual property being what it is, I’ll save it for later.
It’s not easy working with monkeys. Just ask Mike Nesmith. This is day 6 of nonstop rain. Everything soggy. Hometown of Lodi, nearly underwater in the usual spots, Outwater Lane, Panamas, Route 46. Glub glub. Playing the game of nice nice everything fine. The roof is on fire, let the motherfucker burn.
Remind me to tell you of the interviewing fiasco with Office Team. Perhaps I should give up on them and continue my repertoire of being dazed and bemused.
10.14.05a