Money Changes Everything

Yeah it’s fucking Tuesday. I hooked up the company I work with, with their Holiday Luncheon. Funny how obnoxious people can get with a few shots of tequila in their system. And though I had a few shots of tequila, unwillingly, yet showed I was a team player, I’m not the obnoxious one. I’m pissed in both the US and UK versions. Pissed UK style from beers and shots and a pint or two, and pissed from the fact that the end of the year bonus that I was counting on, hoping for and needed won’t be given until January, which to me is bullshit. I’m the lowest paid employee of this firm, I’m in every day and even on days off I check my email and forward whatever needs to be sent out, but I’m very upset that I won’t be rewarded until January.

Go on, say it’s better than nothing, but what good is getting something for the holidays when it won’t be there until the new year when the bills come in? The luncheon was ok. I had a better time at last years party with McMann and Tate, aka Wolff Olins. Last year I arrived fucked up, totally whacked out of my head and just drank drank drank to maintain some sort of equilibrium. This year I was sober and my main companion was Shemp from the Three Stooges who is probably going to get fired in a day or two. Shemp didn’t eat, didn’t drink except for coffee and just sat there next to me while everyone else talked shop, which was about deals they had been working on for the past couple of months, things I know nothing about really. I’m pretty cynical but sitting next to Shemp the cynic from Chicago for a few hours, trying to smile and laugh at the right places while Shemp sat there stone faced wasn’t easy.

Larry Fine from the Stooges got some Cuban cigars which were nice and as we stood outside the after party on Second Avenue, that’s when I found out when the bonuses are actually given out. I know it’s down the line, but like I said I was really hoping to get it this year like every other monkey that works in the US. It’s not official. It will be official when I have to act ignorant and mention it to Tom Chin at my surprise that there were no bonuses given out this year. Then he is scheduled to give his line about them being given out sometime in January.

I also found out that Tom Chin is disappointed in my performance. I do plan on tightening things up next year, but that’s then, not now. Greg Stevens, Mr. Nice Guy slurred the info about Tom Chin’s opinion of me at the after party, when Tom Chin wasn’t there. Just disappointed basically. So whatever nice things I had planned on getting for Bill, for myself and for my bill collectors, well it’s going to have to wait since there is no bonus until the new year. Bill was going to split the cost of presents I got for my family, and I was hoping on saying “thanks but no thanks, I got it covered thanks to the bonus”, well that line will be delayed at least for a month.

I stomped my way back to the bus terminal, angry face on, which definitely cleared a path for me. People actually got out of the way of the 6’2” guy stomping down the street with a cigar in his jaw. I should try that more often.

Banksy
banksysantasghetto.jpg

So You Think You’re Gonna Live Forever

Well it’s Monday and it’s cold enough that you can feel it in your bones. The wind cuts like a knife. It was nice when the sun was out, still cold, but this morning when I left the sun hadn’t completely risen and coming back from work this evening the sun had already set.

Last night I just stayed in after watching the dvd’s of Pollock and This is England. Didn’t make it to 28 Weeks Later, I can hold off watching the zombies for a while. This Is England did haunt me today, such a messed up story, but that kid in the lead was amazing, the other actors were spot on, not that I would know anything about skin head culture.

I just know not all of them are racist, but the ones that are, are very racist. I remember once years ago, after working at McSwells we wound up at Patrick Morrissey’s Hair Salon. Patrick offered to dye my hair and being very buzzed on beer and whatnot, I agreed. Next thing you know, I had a close cropped suede head dyed quite blond. I must have looked a bit intimidating as a few weeks later as I was walking through Washington Square Park I was getting weird looks from various students before they scampered away.

But I’m no racist, as anyone could tell you, despite what was written about 20 or so years ago in the Village Voice. That was when I was running the film series and my partner and I decided to show The Gods Must Be Crazy, which was a crap film but it was cheap to get and had been playing for over a year at various theaters in Manhattan. True, there was a cultural boycott of South Africa at the time but we figured that showing the movie to twenty people in Hoboken wouldn’t make any difference at all.

There was very little publicity for it until RJ Smith, professional wanker wrote a column about how McSwells was violating the boycott. Jim Fouratt, friend of Steve Fallon felt compelled to call Steve and get him to cancel the showing. Steve decided not to and the evening turned out to be a success, our largest crowds up to that date. I guess they all heard it was racist movie and wanted to see it, since Birth Of A Nation was unavailable at the time. The next day RJ Smith called me and asked if I needed his help writing a rebuttal. I said no rebuttal would be written, why should we give the Voice that power, especially since the fucking Village Voice had been advertising the fucking movie for a few years at that point throughout Manhattan.

Stupid RJ Smith didn’t know that. He only wrote for the paper, albeit badly, he never read it it seemed. Now RJ is a senior editor at Los Angeles Magazine, if you do a Google search for him you’ll be lead to a review on the lost African Renaissance in Los Angeles. And Jim Fouratt is doing whatever it is Jim Fouratt does. I last saw him at the Union Theological Seminary at a brunch for Troy Perry, head of the Metropolitan Community Church for LGBT people. Fouratt was with a transgendered woman who was outside smoking with me. She asked me if I was a believer and I told her no. Then she asked what was I going to do when the angel of death came for me. I answered, Offer him a drink. She left in a huff and I told Bill who got pissed off at her. We left soon after.

Tonight I had to go to the Manhattan Mall, to get a gift card for my niece Hillary at Aeropostale. Crazy long line, but I braved it and a half hour later I was walking out the door. Then I took the Path home and stopped by the Guitar Bar where Jim Mastro was working. I love Jim, he’s really a sweet guy, and of course he’s the father of my kid Lily, the kid I somehow had with Meghan, the funniest girl alive. Ruby is a good kid too, but she looks more Mastro than Ozed so I guess we’re even. Had two shots of Ouzo with Jim and I bought a guitar tablature book for Earl, cheap at half the price. I love those Mastros.

Work was ok today.

check out this link, regarding the Salvation Army

cut n’paste
http://www.365gay.com/opinion/neff/neff.htm