Just got in from seeing RENT the movie. Very good. I always had a soft spot for Jesse L. Martin. I was working at Right Track Recording when they recorded the cast album. I met most of the original cast. Jesse was hanging out by my desk quite a bit, listening and singing along to “Who is He and What is He to You” by Bill Withers. Quite a handsome guy and with a killer smile.

He certainly looked great in the movie. I only had eyes for him back then so he commanded my attention most of the time. Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp were very good. I really enjoyed Rosario Dawson. Idina Menzel was incredible. Wilson Jermaine Heredia was touching as Angel. Of course I got choked up at his final scene. I got choked up from the first notes of ‘Seasons of Love’ and then on throughout the rest of the movie.

Beautiful and touching. Would’ve been great 10 years ago but I guess Hollywood needed to see how well the movie version of Chicago went down. Since that was a hit, it gave Rent the green light. It also meant Phantom of the Opera got a green light too. Got to take the good with the bad. My memories of Phantom are unwashably tainted. For Rent, nothing but good memories. My fondness is cast.

In June I decided to take Bill and Julio and Stine to see Rent on Broadway. I had gotten four tickets and made plans to meet in front of the theatre. It was a sold out show, all these years later. Unfortunately it was raining cats and dogs. I was early and went to the Hilton and had a drink in their hotel bar.

After a beer I had gotten a call from Bill, he was at the theatre. Julio and Stine were on their way. I met up with them on the queue. We shuffled in and got to our seats where Bill was already seated. It was a great performance. The cast was credible. I was silently beating myself up for waiting to see it for so long. I would’ve loved to see the original cast, but this cast was quite good. Good enough to carry on after the originals had moved on.

And of course there was my drama that I had to contend with. AT intermission Stine and I went out for a smoke, Julio tagged along and Bill went to the souvenir stand. We came back and Bill was once again seated. He showed off the things that he bought, a hat, a T-shirt, an enamel badge. I wondered what he had gotten me, when all I had to do was close my eyes and I’d see what it was. Nothing.

I was hurt. Really upset. I had to come to terms with the fact that I couldn’t keep holding Bill to my standards of courtesy. It would’ve been nice to have gotten a button or something. But it wasn’t to be. I had to get over my frustration, I was learning about life and death and living for today (didn’t have a blog then). I was able to tell him about it afterwards and he really didn’t have a clue.

June was quite a dramatic month. I reminded him about how I had to go to court as I was being sued by the NY State Department of Labor. That was a long drawn out situation that involved Weehawken, San Francisco, New York and Hoboken. I showed at my court date, and sat among others who had their own trials. They had lawyers, and lot’s of files. All I had was me. I spoke with the judge from my heart and I was honest and truthful. A few weeks later I found the case was dismissed. The thing was with Bill, he knew I had the court date, but didn’t offer any words of encouragement, no pat on the back.

I told him that. I told him, if he had an audition for the part of a 95 year old albino woman playing Bingo, I’d have supported him 100%. If he were up for the role of a Puerto Rican bus driver he would’ve received another 100% from me. I needed to tell him that I needed his support that day and I didn’t get it. Homeboy with his problems of looking past his nose.

He’s making progress. He bought tickets for the movie tonight and surprised me with a RENT baseball cap, which he bought at the theatre this afternoon. I love it. We’re making progress.

No Day But Today.

It all seemed to be going so well. Listening to Ian Dury and the Blockheads, ‘Do It Yourself’. That record, now CD, always makes me feel good. What a crackerjack band those Blockheads, and what lyrics and vocals from the late Mr. Dury. ‘Through channels that were once canals, do lift the heart of my morale, to know, that we, are pals’. Never had a chance to see them, they only played the states once and it didn’t go well.

So I floated to work, listening to Do It Yourself, and I was feeling pretty good. It’s true, hell is other people. Once my coworkers started arriving, the day started going downhill. Being it was the day before the day before Thanksgiving, pies were ordered. Not just any pies, and not any pies in the immediate vicinity. No, these pies were across town.

They ordered about a dozen pies. Apple Sour Cream, Pumpkin, and Carrot Cake Apple sauce. Jamie the office manager and I had a town car to take us to the pie company, so the cost of 12 pies was about 500.00.

The president of the company paid for them. This is the same guy I spoke to about my issues at work. This is the same guy that has done nothing. And the issues and the situation have gotten worse.

I did hear from Jamie, that Bleedin’ Hope and her bleedin brain moved to San Francisco, which really confirms my suspicions that she lied about everything. I mean, if your brain was bleeding, do you think it would be a good idea to pull up your roots, forget the doctors, and move to the other side of the country?

No one bats an eye. Now the 34th floor water buffalo known as Wombus with the kidney problems has been whispering in the ear of her supervisor, Joe Hemosaxual. Faggot douche bag supreme. I’m sure that’s how he graduated from the business school. Such a fucking priss. He has no clue what’s going on, only what fat ass tells him. Fat ass comes in late, waddles around the office, annoying people with her Staten Island drone, and leaves early. She dresses like she’s going to play bingo in a trailer park. Sometimes she does nothing all day, stays late, gets a free dinner and a car service home to Staten Island.
He fired off an email stating that put upon Brenda isn’t a team player since she doesn’t really communicate with the other admin assistants. But doesn’t the Persian bitch fall into that category? She doesn’t speak to me, is she a team player? I mean I can picture her doing the team in the locker room in some triple X rated porn flick, but a team player?
No not at all.

She seems to have won over various people in the company. Men who are easily swayed by tight pants and four inch heels. I guess these neck bones never had the opportunity to be driving past the Javits Center late at night and seeing her doppelgangers outside turning tricks in rabbit fur coats.

And most of them are Transgendered who look way better, even with a five o’clock shadow. The only proper name for her is anatomical slang for vagina.
I desperately need to be out of there. Not her vagina, I wouldn’t be anywhere near that thing, but rather, out of Wanker Banker. It’s too bad. At one point it was a pretty good place to work. Now, I’m a relic, a dinosaur from another time. Maybe I should leave some dung behind so they could dig it up long after I’m gone.