Thursday, July 31, 2008
I need to no longer work for this place, and I plan to get down here to Charlotte, finish off some big projects, and keep my eyes open for a dream job. Yeah right. I hate the bit of advice that one should "do what you love". Because I don't even know what I love. Well, I do know a few things but no one is ever going to pay me to do them. I'm in the midst of a major life transition, a midlife crisis, and extreme job insecurity. And to top it all off Jimmy Johns fucked up my sprouts and provolone sandwich by putting it on a white bun instead of the delicious seven grain wheat bread.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
(One of the comments on the YouTube clip asks the question, "Delta Dawn, what color panties you got on?" which, because I am a 12 year old inhabitting the body of a 32 year old man, I find endlessly hilarious.)
Friday, July 25, 2008
"If God ain't gonna take care of it, it just ain't gonna get taken care of!"
This is an absolutely un-resourceful woman for whom "office manager" as a title is the joke of the century. God ain't helping her figure shit out at the office, that's for damn sure.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
I figured out today my coworker is not a resourceful person. I also figured out that getting sidetracked with stupid stories and kee-keeing and ha-haing is why nothing ever gets done in these long ass meetings. They sense my frustration I think.
Did I mention I got a ticket the last time I was here? For excessive speeding and "endangering human life and property" or some such? Got a lawyer on the case. Cost me a shitload. I might have to go to drivers school to which I have been before and lets just say it's not America's best and brightest in there. I should feel right at home.
Incidentally, she had BED BUGS in her hotel room when she was in NY last time. Meanwhile, bed bugs are closing in on my apartment as there has been another (unconfirmed) scare RIGHT NEXT DOOR. They had that shit sealed off with blue tape and a sign that said "do not enter till after 7:00 PM" and when you do, "ventilate". I hope they didn't just scatter the things. God will I ever be glad to get out of there.
Been looking at apartments to rent and houses to buy.
Roommate drama later.
Moving stressing me out alongside work.
It's gay pride in the Lotte this weekend so should be fun.
My self-esteem is nearing an all time low, but I'm pulling it back up and together.
Holla at a bitch!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Enter Christopher Ciccone, her brother, and up until recent years the person closest to her in her life. Perhaps you’ve heard of his book, Life With My Sister Madonna, in which he supposedly gives a “scathing” expose of her life. I have read a number of excerpts and reviews, and my sense is that this memoir is, in the end, the sad story of a mean older sibling losing contact with the one person who truly loved her like blood. I imagine writing the book was his form of therapy in dealing with being the proverbial wind beneath her wings, with no acknowledgement of such. It may be pretty shitty of a brother to rat his famous sister out like this, even if she did treat him like crap and take him for granted most of the time, but if his side of the story has any truth to it, then I can’t really blame him. And I do tend to believe every word.
From what I can tell though, it's not really that scathing. She can be bitchy. She's self absorbed. She helped create the mythology around her rise to superstardom. She’s calculating. She's lonely and hungry for attention. She's cheap. WHAT ELSE IS NEW? Some of the moments are even tender from Christopher’s perspective, and I don’t doubt that even to this day he loves her deeply.
I think my sympathy for him may stem from the fact that in my own life, I usually have to be the Christopher to someone else’s Madonna.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
On a screen,
At night or in the morning,
When you point out the direction,
The sun is going,
And tell me north from east from west from south.
“Send me kind words,”
A pitiful request.
It’s dark and my body is hollow,
And the hum of electric,
In the windows,
Flows through earaches and stuffy noses.
Send me a photograph,
To remember your face,
And chant spells over it with,
A lock of hair, a chicken bone,
One in each hand holding hard.
Send me kind words, tonight, tomorrow, forever.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
My heroes have long been the freaks and degenerates of the world, those eccentrics who start with little, survive as subversives and deviants inside the "mainstream" (or, to use a phrase I hate even more, the "mainline"), and then somehow hit the big time. In answer to the question, "What is the most overrated virtue?" I employ the immortal words of one Jackie Beat -- "Good taste." The ones who defy convention and take the world by storm, and even the ones who never make it onto the map, are the mujahadin of my life, and challenging the "culture" and the social norms of the times is my jihad.
This used to occur in downtown Winston-Salem on the butch stroll -- Liberty Street lined with drag queens, hustlers, prostitutes, queers, cruisers and gawkers. I think a combination of AIDS, the internet, and gentrification led to the inevitable -- no one is downtown anymore. Winston wasn't much, but even New York has changed and less and less people spit in the eye of expectations and more and more people just try to be rich and normal.
I have found myself living a life of obscurity and mediocrity, settled into "mainline" employment and doing such necessary things as paying bills and letting people exploit me. However, I take comfort in the fact that at least I'm not that worst of things to be -- ordinary. And I take comfort in the words of Dorian Corey, from Paris is Burning:
"I always had hopes of being a big star. But as you get older, you aim a little lower. Everybody wants to make an impression, some mark upon the world. Then you think, you've made a mark on the world if you just get through it, and a few people remember your name. Then you've left a mark. You don't have to bend the whole world. I think it's better just to enjoy it. Pay your dues, and just enjoy it. If you shoot an arrow and it goes real high, hooray for you."
After her death in 1993, friends discovered a trunk containing an actual homemade mummy, covered in baking soda and wrapped in leatherette, in her apartment with a note attached stating, "This poor soul broke into my apartment and I was forced to shoot him." The corpse was figured to have been dead for about twenty years, which means it was moved from apartment to apartment over the years.
I'm for self-defense and not necessarily for murder, but Dorian Corey and this situation speaks to me. In fact I have a select group lined up to, upon my death or disapperance, infiltrate the home before parents or police arrive, and remove my own proverbial skeletons from the closet. But maybe I should just leave them there. That, or live forever.
North Carolina is going to be so boring!
A matter of opinion, indeed, but having spent a large part of my life in that state, and a lot of time this year in Charlotte, I know what I'm in for. I happen to have the rare gift of being able to -- gasp -- entertain myself. OF COURSE I will miss aspects of New York. But this statement usually comes from people who rarely take advantage of anything New York has to offer anyway. It's a change, yes. If you bore easily maybe it's you that's boring.
Everyone is ugly in the South!
Like everyone in New York is not a grey-skinned ball of rot. There are plenty of good looking people in North Carolina, and I will happen to not be one of them anyway. So eat it.
It's stupid to rent instead of buy!
OMG! You should TOTALLY be in the financial services industry. I will eventually buy a house but in the meantime I'm going to rent, because, believe it or not, buying a house takes a little time. You can sign short term (six months) leases in NC, which is what I plan to do, because I have made a firm decision that I will never live with another person again. Once I have all my ducks in a row, I'll look to buy my cute ranch style brick house with an acre of yard in Charlotte.
Just remember that I'm moving to this place, and will likely live the rest of my life in this place, that you are disparaging. And also remember that there are certain decisions that I will have to make that are in my best interests and may possibly be none of your business. I am not married, I do not have babies. I roll alone and, by the way, these days my tolerance for bullshit is pretty low so let's keep it on the serious, shall we?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Monday, July 07, 2008
Saint Thomas USVI is just beautiful and wonderful. Sadly, it looks like in about 15 years it will be commercialized to the point of Myrtle Beach. I have had a great time here, however, the sad fact of my tremendous stress level has kind of kept me from fully enjoying myself. My roommate, my cats, moving, my work, money, the amount of money I've spent here, not having any money, money being sucked out of my pockets, my apartment, did I mention moving?, health concerns, future worries, needing a car, needing a home, needing a man, etc etc et-fucking-cetera. I have SO INCREDIBLY MUCH on my mind, and it's quite a shame that my dear friend with whom I share these things just kind of scoffs like their so minimal and all I have to do is "be excited about moving" because, you know, that just solves EVERYTHING. Jesus, why didn't *I* think of that? Because, moving is so simple and it's the ONLY thing I'm thinking about, and I can just magically change my emotional makeup to EXCITEMENT. So I keep it to myself. However, the fucking doctor is always in when YOU have a problem.
That feels better.
Anyway, one thing about this trip is it's NOT the kind of vacation *I* would take. First of all the resort is nice, but I'm not a resort kind of guy. I love nice accomoadations, don't get me wrong, but I feel so removed from the nitty gritty that today when my travel companion when shopping I took a hitchhiking excursion through jungles and mountains to a secluded beach where I mingled with Real Live Island People and one of them even gave me a ride back. You know, there are reasons I prefer to travel alone, not the least of which is being able to just get out there in it. Again, the "resort" is nice, but I'm not one to sit around tourists showing how much money I have via outfits and bling.
I'm also fascinated by the people who live here and either own businesses or work in town, a few of whom I've asked, "Did you just decide one day you wanted to live in the islands, and moved?" The answer is always "Exactly." Where does the money come from though, to open a restaurant, the nice ones of which must cost a jillion dollars?
Gonna go to dinner here in a few and then maybe work it out on the butch stroll, we'll see. I'll be back late tomorrow...then back to work, the thought of which makes me want to vomit. How does one become a professional vacationer.
Friday, July 04, 2008
I don't have much to say. He was my senator growing up in North Carolina, and he hated a lot of things I loved, like, well, art. And homosexuality.
I have a story that I may share some day that involves my elementary school and Jesse Helms, but for now, I just send him this in homage, from someone who was likely not his favorite artist.