Cunning Stunts

[Cap'n Blackett]

It’s been over a week since I’ve updated this journal and I’m almost too tired to write what’s been going on. I work so many hours that I have little time for anything else. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o>

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My boss is a really difficult person. I was giving her the excuse that she’s under so much pressure and that’s why she’s rude and cold. But I was a VP at a bank, and responsible for multi-million dollar contracts, and I never treated my staff the way she treats me. If anything, I treated my asst like a king, because he made my life so much easier. She is just not a nice person. There’s little I can do about that.<o></o>

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Sometimes the pressure from her is unbearable. I have another boss who is so sweet and considerate and barely asks anything of me. If only she were the top dog, I’d love my job without reservation. There’s still plenty I do love about my job. The best part is working with Mo. She has helped me here immeasurably. And we laugh at all the stupid stuff that goes on here.<o></o>

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All of that aside, life is good. Jon found a place and will be moving by the end of the month. I’ll actually miss him. If I had to choose between him and Jerry as roommates, I’d pick him. But since I don’t have a choice, Jerry is fine to live with. Jon and I watched Oprah together about a week ago, which is a funny thing in and of itself. Neither of us are really Oprah people (him particularly) and we had a really good time dishing on Oprah and Sharon Stone and who’s gay in Hollywood. Then, apropos of nothing, he started telling me about a date he was going on. I felt really happy that he would talk to me about it. It’s a breakthrough for us—to talk about such personal stuff. <o></o>

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On Saturday we went to the Yankees game with Tom and John. It was great. Tom had some wonderful seats through his job and the Yanks won 6-0. We were all gluttons, but that’s just part of the experience.<o></o>

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I am so excited for Adam getting into Blue Man Group, but I am selfishly disappointed that he won’t be on a team with me. Still, the group looks good and we’ll be starting to rehearse in September. He is always welcome whenever his fabulous career permits.<o></o>

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Mo is going to be in a play in the Fringe Festival here, and my dear friend Chris is going to be in one at the Festival in Scotland. I am so proud of them both.<o></o>

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Today’s lyrics are from the Police—tried and true favourites:
No time for the complexities of conversation
No time smiles, no time for knowing
No time for the intricacies of explanation
No time for sharing, even less for showing

If I could
I'd slow the whole world down
I'd bring it to it's knees
I'd stop it spinning round
But as it is
I'm climbing up an endless wall

No time at all
No time this time
No time at all
No time this time

No time for a quick kiss at the railway station
No time for a suitcase, sandwich and a morning paper
Only time for time tables, calls and transportation
No time to think no time to dare

If I could
I'd slow the whole world down
I'd bring it to it's knees
I'd stop it spinning round
But as it is
I'm climbing up an endless wall

No time at all
No time this time
No time at all
No time this time

If I could
I'd slow the whole world down
I'd bring it to it's knees
I'd stop it spinning round
But as it is
I'm climbing up an endless wall

No time at all
No time this time<o></o>

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

I have cramps that could down a water buffalo. I guess that’s a good thing, since I’m overdue for my monthly visit. It’s because of my horrid boss. She has the ability to wither fertility right out of a womb with one look. Menstruation. It’s still not appropriate to talk about no matter how many leaps feminism has taken. Makes me think of how Jon said there are so few words left that can clear a room, and one of them is finger (as a verb). Yet people have no real problem talking about jerking off, or anything to do with male sexuality. My women’s studies teacher would say that it’s just further proof of misogyny and sexism. My friend Jeff would say it’s because women are yucky and it’s gross to talk about their gine-gines. Once I had my period for a really long time and when I told my boss at the time, Denise (who was also one of my best friends), she said, “Eww, get away from me you bloody bitch.” I was shocked at first by her response—I had expected some sisterly sympathy—but a beat or two later we laughed so fucking hard.

Oh that makes me miss Denise. She is an amazing person. She taught me so much about people and how to deal with them. And she allowed me to get on my soap box about politics when I was such an incorrigible left-wing nut in my youth. I remember moving around in that company, but I’d always come home to her. No one has ever been such a good boss as she was.

I have to leave work now. I had a lot more I wanted to write about bosses and menstruation, but it’ll all have to wait.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Weeeeeeeeee! Less than 2 weeks before Jon moves out. And Mo's play starts this weekend. And I have 2 whole days off before I am back in radio land. And my battleaxe of a boss will be travelling for 3 days next week.

After writing my last post, I've been thinking about Denise a lot. She is engaged to a guy from NY, so they are supposed to make the trek this year to visit his family. I am truly excited to see her--it's been about 4 years. I think that when I was back there on one of my drives across the country, I wasn't able to hook up with her. I can't really remember the circumstances, but I'm sad that I didn't try harder to make it happen. Elizabeth still sees her every once in a while and she always passes messages on to me from her--and from Denise's best friend Cathy, who I also love dearly. Oh we all had some good times at that job. And we felt like we were helping the world (and we were).

I am missing SF a lot these days. I tried to convince my sister to move out here, but she's pretty embedded there. I don't think I've done a good enough job as guide when she's visited. And NY can be really brutalizing when you are used to the uber-laid-back attitude of the west coast. It's hard to believe that I am so accustomed to it myself.

I like our new computer, but I want a better keyboard. It's making me feel frustrated, so this entry is over.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

I want to thank Cindee for her kind words about this journal. So very sweet to take the time to say.

I am annoyed at this moment because I now wake up, even on weekends, with the feeling that I must get up for work right away. This feeling is accompanied by a surge of adrenilin which makes it impossible for me to get back to sleep. I don't want to force the boy to get up with me, so I sneak out of bed and go up to the roof for my first cig of the day. Then I dizzily take the spiral staircase back down to the apt and that drops me off right in front of the computer, where I can't help but waste time on emails and this board.

I feel like my journal entries of late have been quite dull. I can't help writing about the mundane, when my job takes up 60 hours a week and that's all pretty boring stuff. Except for a few things. There are a couple of scandals worth noting at the job. One of the very cool girls at work has turned her boss in for sexual harrassment. I want to have the details in this post, but I don't want to screw anything up in the case. Suffice to say, he's probably just going to get a slap on the wrist.

Another thing going on is that my boss got an angry, almost threatening, email from the guy who used to have my job. He told her she was the worst person he had ever met and that the 3 weeks he worked there were the unhappiest of his life. Here's the upshot: she's getting a restraining order against him. I think it's a little over the top, but I also think it's scary that he still felt so much anger and hatred towards her after 2 months. I mean we all have had bosses who were not the greatest, some of mine have been downright evil, but I am a fan of moving on--all that dwelling could only hurt me. It seems like she's trying to be nicer to me, now that she got this wake-up call. But she is awful. Truly. And I didn't feel sorry for her at all when I overheard her crying into the phone about people hating her. Of course--if you are a shitty person, that will come back to you. So own it and take the natural consequences. Don't whinge and moan about how much you are hated. It's such deep denial, to feel like a victim when you are mean and hurtful to others. Why shouldn't they hate you, because underneath all the evil you spew onto the world, you are just wounded too? Bullshit. We've all been hurt. We all have choices about how we behave.

I have also learned that I have to be really firm with her, instead of meek and obsequious. She will keep me there until 7 or later every night unless I tell her I need to go. And I can't ask--I have to just say, I'm leaving at 6. I can't remember the term that's used in animal behavioural studies, but as soon as I tell her how it is, she rolls over and shows me her throat. It's very weird. And I have to remember not to go too far with that--she's used to getting her way--it's gonna be a hard balance to keep. But I love the company and the money is good, so it's worth it to me.


We saw a screening of Cry Wolf the other night with Will and Rich and Rich's friend, who's name I'm embarrassed not to remember. One of the worst movies ever. It wanted to be Scream, but wasn't nearly as well-written, well-acted, nor remotely as compelling or suspenseful. I guessed the plot twist very early on. We were supposed to stay for a panel afterwards, but we wrote such negative things about it on our questionaires, that we were no longer wanted. Rich, bless his heart, stayed because he wanted to help them make it better. It wouldn't be possible.

Ok, the boy has arisen. I will write more pithy observations on life later, I promise, Cindee, I'll be worthy of your praise.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

On our roof, there is a patch of gravel which must hold water, because there are always a few leaves of grass growing there and some mossy stones. When I go up there to smoke I always check it out and see if stuff is still growing there. It makes me think of being a little girl in England--a huge part of my life was observing nature. As part of one of our classes we went on a long nature walk every week. We had these darling little brown leather satchels, which held collecting boxes and jars, and we'd fill them with whatever we found on our walks, to bring back to the classroom and study.

I remember, in particular, finding frog spawn in a muddy ditch one spring and filling a jar with it, then watching it turn from eggs to tadpoles to dear little frogs. I also remember that our teacher (Miss Meadows?) wanted us to have a butterfly garden, so we had to find specific catepillars. We had old-fashioned wooden matchboxes in our collecting cases and we'd stuff them full of whatever plants the little wriggly guys were eating to bring back for them. I don't actually remember it working--I think some did form chrysali, but I don't remember a butterfly garden. Maybe we moved before it could blossom.

I was fascinated by any plant or flower that had seed pods on it. And I loved to collect mossy stones. Our back garden was huge and there was a rock garden, which my mother kept full of viney, trailing, flowering plants and bulb flowers. It was a bumble bee magnet. I had one section that I called "quite contrary" because whenever we'd go to a beach (in Brighton or the Isle of Wight, oh yeah, we went to the Bahamas and Hawaii a couple times too), I'd bring back shells and lay out rows of them. I used to have a little flower press, which I filled every week. And at the far back of the garden, behind a hedge, where the huge creepy toadstools grew, there was a foxes' den. In the winter we'd see their dainty tracks in the snow, sometimes all the way up to our back door. And we'd see their red coats against the white at a distance sometimes. I always went against my mother's strict rule and looked for their den in the spring because I used to fantasize about taming a fox cub as my pet. Barring that, I wanted a hedgehog--a baby one, of course. I think I'd read somewhere that their quills were soft when they were babies and I thought if I could tame one before it grew up, then it wouldn't try to shoot its quills at me (I know, now that they don't actually shoot quills, but I thought that was the danger back then).

I can't keep writing about this stuff right now, it must be PMS, but I'm almost weeping from the nostalgia.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

I am desperate to go to England again. I need to recharge my batteries. While I'd love to see my sister and nieces and all the other extended family, I mainly want to get to the Lake District and chill. I want to take the coach all around to the different towns and stay in Windemere. I want to eat the hot meat pies and have baked beans on toast and eat several cadbury chocolate bars a day.

I want to go to Dove Cottage and study more about Wordsworth and try to figure out what the hell was really going on with him and his sister. I want to visit the Beatrix Potter museum and the Kendall Museum of Lakeland Life and Industry and see Arthur Ransome's dear little boat, which either Swallow or Amazon was named after. I want to renew my membership in the Arthur Ransome Society and go on all the walks that were in his books. I want to find that weird remote hostel near Buttermere and drink another bottle of vodka while a youth group sings ridiculous songs. I want to find a crumbling stone wall and build it back up, surrounded by green hills and baaaing sheep.

There was a saying from a book I read as a child that I always remember: If wishes were wings then wombles would fly. I know it's an adaptation of a cliche, but I loved the Wombles when I was small. I also loved the Gibbons and Some Mothers 'Ave 'Em (I'm not sure if that's how it was spelled, but it was surely pronounced that way) I can't remember his real name, but we called him Sgt. Major Shutup, and he put out a novelty record, as did the Gibbons. They did the "Throwing Up Song" which I've used for many an audition.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

I am in heaven. My main boss is on vacation for a week and my sweet boss is back from her vacation. Now that I've been here a month, I am finally feeling comfortable in the position and even when my main boss is in her mood, I feel good about what I do. I have been thinking that I would like to stay here for a while and eventually get into programming. What could be more cool than that? In the meantime, I plan to learn all I can about the marketing aspect of the business.

My friend Jane is selling her apartment. It's small, but Jed and I are thinking about the possibility of considering buying. I'd love to live in her place, I love the building, the location and the idea of owning. But I don't know where the downpayment $$ would come from. Plus, it's very small. Still, we are just in the considering mode, so it probably won't happen.

We had a fantastic weekend. We saw Mo in her Fringe play and she was incredible. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She is so animated and present and engaging. I did like the other players, but they all paled in comparison. And I'm not just saying it because she is one of my favourite people on the planet. She has talent like few I've known.

On Sunday we just chilled. We went out for brunch, but spent most of the day lounging. Jed had some articles to write and I should have been working on my book, but I haven't even looked at it since starting to work here. I work so many hours that I have little time for anything except snuggling when I get home.

I want to write more, but the IT guys need to install some stuff on my computer, so it'll have to wait.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Cynthia mask, you're wearing your Cynthia mask

When Mo and I left work tonight, we stood in the courtyard of our giant building, smoking our first after-work cigs, and there was a strange group of none-too-pretty, but also a few not-so-ugly women, putting on a fashion show. There were 8-10 of them and none was younger than 30ish, some were surely in their forties. I don't see anything wrong with an aging model, it's pretty cool actually, but it's not often that I've seen a gang of them roaming the streets of NY. They had clearly just been to Strawberry, which is one of the stores in the McGraw Hill complex, because they all wore outfits that resembled the manikins in the window behind them. There were lots of flimsy, sheer, off-the-shoulder blouses with loud prints in the pinks and greens that force me to recall things about the '80s which I'd rather forget. They lined up along the display windows and one of them pulled out a camera and started shooting pics. They then formed a sort of runway in the courtyard and each in turn strutted towards the camera with ridiculous "sexy" pouts and overtly flirtatious eyes.

We were watching, sort of sideways, trying not to let our alternating shocked horror and glee register on our faces as we ridiculed them quietly. I thought it would be really funny to get the frumpy women in our office to model their business casual attire in this same manner. We watched for a moment or two until the most emaciated (and aged) one pranced over to us (us!) and informed us, in a thick German accent, that she didn't speak much English. Then she abruptly asked if we would go see their fashion show tonight. We both declined and tried to act like we weren't interested in talking further, without saying, "Just leave us alone." She proceeded to ask us about our jobs, but couldn't understand our answers. She just stood there looking at us expectantly and asking more unanswerable questions. Michele had gotten a DVD player delivered to work, so she was holding this awkward, unwieldy box and she played up the difficulty of holding it to illustrate to this woman that she couldn't be troubled with talking to her right then. When the frau didn't act like she was getting the hint, Mo just pulled out her cel phone and called Marc, and I was left fielding the questions.

I stopped meeting the woman's eyes. I looked around and noticed one of the building's security guards talking into his walkie talkie excitedly, and flipping pages on his clipboard to see if there was a permit granted for this impromptu catwalk. Of course there was not. The security is (rightly) heightened this week, due to the RNC madness, and within half a minute there was a crowd of uniformed guards trying to get to the bottom of it all. I heard the woman with the camera ask the guards if they would attend the fashion show tonight, and tried to sell him a ticket--for $20. Twenty fucking dollars to see a gaggle of unattractive German dames keep their clothes ON?! The guards immediately declined, laughing.

The woman who'd approached us asked if it's not allowed, to take photos, and then stared blankly when we told her we didn't know. She asked again and I tried to direct her to speak to the security guards, but I have the feeling she was just trying to stay near us, to blend in, in her 4 inch heels and her black, ruffled, chiffon pants. We were both almost a foot shorter than her and wearing our uniform of sensible shoes, black pants and conservative sweaters. I'm sure the guards didn't even see her towering above us. The rest of the women had finally stopped posing at this point (the vogueing went on altogether too long after the camera had ceased snapping frames of them) and had gathered around the guards, which had gathered around the photographer.

Mo stubbed out her cigarette and tried to get me to walk away from the spectacle, but just then, like some high-register whistle had been blown, the models, including the one who'd been unsuccessfully pitching us, wisped slowly away, en masse, across the courtyard. And Marc walked up a moment later, while they were gathering together, so he was able to bear witness to the scene as it was winding up.

Today's lyrics are from Robyn Hitchcock from Cynthia Mask, because the image of the women drifting away makes me think of these lines:
I'll reach your lungs
like smoke in the orchard
scattered in bushes
the firemen laughing

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Today has been pretty cool. I was able to introduce Jon Daly and Brett Gelman to some people here in programming and HR because we're looking for a morning show for the Slim Shady channel and their Cracked Out act is fucking perfect for it. It would be so good if I could start getting UCB peeps on our stations. We have two comedy channels and 120+ others which we could infiltrate.

Today is also good because it's Friday (casual clothes and summer hours) and I feel like I can actually relax a bit. It's been crazy since my boss has been on vacation. I have to read all of her emails and deal with them. This probably doesn't sound as daunting as it is. She gets 30-80 emails an hour. All of them need some action to be taken. But today it's only been 10-20 per hour, so it feels like a holiday.

Last night the Empire State bldg was lit all red, for the RNC, and it truly looked creepy, like it was dripping in blood. Fitting. I'm glad that people will be protesting, but I'm saddened to hear that the protest will start on 7th and 14th, which is where we live. The boy just called to tell me he loved me and threw that little tidbit of info in. Fuck. I just want to relax this weekend. Even if I agree with the protesters, I know it will suck to be on their route. Still, I guess it would suck worse to be on a lower floor.

Ok, I spoke too soon about today being a good day. One of my bosses freaked out about a package that was sent out (she doesn't trust that FedEx will get it to her) and my other boss just informed me that there will be a huge meeting (more than 50 people) that I have to coordinate, which means that I have to find a time on all of their calendars in which all of them are available. And the meeting is in a little over a week. For fuck's sake. It never ends here. I've been trying ALL DAY to get over to Mo and help her send some packages out. I've only been able to type little pieces of this entry at a time, while I'm on hold or stuck at my desk. I am exhausted. I need to get the fuck out of here. So much for summer hours. Everyone else left around 1. It's now 3:45. I have at least an hour of stuff I have to do, and around 2 hours of stuff I should do.

Oh well, I have been doing a pretty good job of keeping a positive outlook. I have to keep reminding myself that I have two glorious days off ahead of me and I can relax for the entire weekend. Jed is going to take good care of me. He always does. I can look forward to that. OK. Time to just finish it and quit bitching.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Friday night we watched as Critical Mass flowed past our windows. We went out on the fire escape and video taped it and then, once people started getting arrested, we went downstairs and took some up-close pictures of the cops in riot gear. It was bizarre and wonderful and terrible, all at once. People just gathered around the different police roadblocks and watched. One of the strangest things, that I still don't quite understand, is that they let thousands of cyclists pass and just started snagging stragglers. It didn't seem fair, they were punished for being slower than the others. The bikers chanted, "Who's streets? Our streets" even as they were being taken down. Lots of bystanders were chanting, "Let them go, let them go!" but they would quiet down quickly and the police weren't listening anyway. There was a double-decker tour bus (their route runs right past our house) and the top deck was filled with early RNC conventioners who started hooting and cheering when they saw people getting arrested. The crowd on the sidewalk started ridiculing them and yelling for them to go back home.

The other remarkable thing about Friday night is that I didn't feel safe. I felt afraid that the police would just start wholesale round-ups and that our freedom of speech wasn't so free. I was afraid that if I leant my voice to those shouting, that we could be accused of inciting a riot. I want to know where the line is in the law.

So today is the huge march. Thousands of people gathering below our apartment. One of the banners I really liked was: These colors don't run.....the whole world.

We went downstairs to get a bagel and it was pretty amazing. Everyone has been very cooperative and they seem peaceful. I did see one anarchist banner out of the thousands. There was a group of people playing ukeleles and kazoos. There were so many people selling the wares they'd made for these events. One young girl was selling purses with a pic of W that said douchebag, there were t-shirts which said: Keep off the grass, courtesy of the RNC. I came back upstairs to get out of the madness--I'm not so good in crowds--and Jed braved the masses to get the Sunday papers. That was a while ago, he's not back, and the march has started now. Seventh Ave is solidly filled with people. Every once in a while, a shout starts many blocks away and the roar is picked up all the way down the street. There are drummers and people blowing whistles. Someone has pulled the fire alarm in our building and the racket is awful. There are sirens all over, but much less police presence than Friday night. I can hear helicopters. I can not imagine how many people are downstairs. I have been in protests and rallies before, but never one of this size. Seventh ave is packed so full that it's impossible for any more people to cross 14th street, so they're all piling up downstairs. There's a queer section that can't cross and there's got to be more than a thousand of just the gay faction. I'm getting a bit worried because it's been a half an hour or so since Jed went off to get the papers and I have his keys. If he is trying to get in here, I'm afraid I won't hear him buzzing the intercom over the chanting and sirens. Thank god, someone just shut off the fire alarm. We were going to try to go to a movie and stay out of this, but I don't know if I want to even leave again.

Ok, Jed just got home. I don't think we'll be venturing out too much again today, but I will keep posting updates. I'm pissed because even though I've got my miniDV and my camera (both digital) all my cables to hook up to the computer are up in Westchester at Jed's parents house. So I can't put any of the images/footage on line. Maybe I can get Jon to bring them back for me. If I can, I'll post some of them later this week.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

We ate terrible, ordered-in food all weekend and I had an awful tummy ache all last night and at work today. I came home early and have been catching up on the IRC--I never get time to read it, let alone post, lately.

I'm trying to perk up a bit. The weather is so oppressive. It feels like Miami, it's so humid, and I don't miss much about South Florida, the mugginess least of all. The boy just came home and went straight back out to do laundry. I love that kid. He always comes through when I need it. He insisted that I relax and wouldn't let me touch the laundry bag. He's off, then, to Chelsea Market to get me a baguette from Amy's Bread. I know they may seem like small things, but they mean the world to me. I am very grateful for his loving ministrations.

Jon is giving us his wardrobe, and maybe one of his bookcases. It's very kind of him, and saves us having to move the heavy stuff down from Hartsdale. Their folks are buying us a new bed, esentially so we don't have to move mine down here (but also because I love the pillow-top one in their guest bedroom and his mom insists that we should have one). Jon did want to trade his king-sized bed for my queen, but I prefer to have the queen and the extra space. Our new room is huge, especially compared to the one we're in right now. I will miss Jon, but I can't wait for him to move and to finally settle into my space. It's been months coming.

The mix tape thread is making me yearn for a CD burner again. Even though I am dying for an ipod, I think I will spend the dough first on a burner, and repay so many dear people who have given me such great music to listen to. I can't believe I nearly missed out on Robyn Hitchcock--if it weren't for one of Marc's magical tapes...and from him I also developed my love for Mark Eitzel. Both of those guys have changed my life with their music. Oh and the Red House Painters. Fuck, I've got to start listening to old music again.

My tummy is off again. I'd better sign off for now.

I wanted to find lyrics from Eitzel online, but couldn't. Now I HAVE to dig out the CDs.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

What a week. It's so busy that it's gone quickly, at least. I can't believe it's Thursday already. Of course, most of the stuff that's happened is at work, and of course that's too mundane to post.

We found out that Jane's apartment is way out of our range, but we also found out that Jed's dad would be willing to buy a property (if it is w/in our range) and have us pay him back, instead of having a mortgage. That's amazing. I can't believe how generous and kind his parents are. I am not used to that kind of treatment from a parent. My dad could do it 50 times over and he never would.

One of the very cool girls at my office might be transferring to Nashville. I'd be so sad to see her go, but also happy for her. She and her husband want a slower way of life. They want to enjoy living, not just work until they're exhausted every day of the week. I know how they feel. New York can chew you up and spit you out into the street. I feel lucky to live here, but I wonder if I could do it forever.

My main boss runs so hot and cold. Today she's acting like my buddy. For now. Later, she could easily be snapping my head off over something I don't have control over, like a hair appt that has to be before noon on Saturday, when the stylist doesn't have an opening. I like her sometimes. She has this incredible, loud, hearty laugh that is unexpected, and I love to hear it. She also frowns like no one I've ever seen and almost always kills the messenger.

I brought my own music to work today and I'm loving listening to Los Lobos and singing along in Spanish. La Pistola y El Corazon is an amazing album--either tradional Mexican folk tunes, or songs they wrote in that style. Earlier, I was jamming Stevie Wonder's definitive greatest hits and the song Signed, Sealed, Delivered can get me happy like few other songs. I was even dancing a little. I sit right in front of my boss, though, so I had to keep it a bit restrained.

Jed says he's going to buy me a pony, so I can ride around town yelling, "I'm Teresa. Get out of my way!" It makes me laugh so hard. He decided that's my catch phrase. If it is, and I'm not saying that it is, then his catch phrase is, "Hey everybody, look at me--I'm the Hamburgler! Rauble rauble rauble!"

I love that man.

I'm going to try to see some apartments that Jane wants to buy tonight, but I'm so tired that I may have to skip it. But I want to know what's out there for the kind of money she can spend (we can't spend a third of what she can, but it'll still be nice to know how the other half lives). Maybe I'll just go home and watch one of the bizillion movies that Jed has saved for me on the replay box.

I'm so fucking tired of the RNC. I'm sick to death of the lies and the lack of upper lips. I heard Cheney talking about how great the medical benefits for Americans are under Bush. Almost everyone I know who lost their medical benefits since this administration (including myself) has not gotten any to replace the ones lost. And most of us who've changed jobs, have been hired as consultants or temps and get no benefits--not even overtime. When I was sick earlier this week I had to fear reprocussions at my job if I missed work (since I am a temp to perm--they can fire me at will). And I had to fear the possibility that I'd need a doctor, which would mean that I would have to go to one of the few free/low-cost clinics in NYC (for such a huge city, we have surprisingly little access to healthcare) and waiting for many hours to be seen. Then, if I'd had a prescription to fill, I'd have to pay the full price for medicine, as well as not getting paid for the time that I missed from work to see a doctor. Yeah, Cheney has my best interests at heart.

How can Republicans embrace so many Christian ideals, yet ignore charity, compassion and love (which are the most important Christian ideals to my mind)? How can they be pro-life and support the death penalty? How can they be pro-life, but make the impoverished children in America go without adequate food, shelter, medicine and education? How can they claim to uphold the Constitution, but squash freedom of speech and expression? How can they claim to support the troups, but cut their pay and benefits and expect them to do Herculean tours of duty? How can they claim to support the troups and send them to a war based on lies? I am sickened. I'm especially sickened that Cheney dares, at this late date, to come out against Bush on gay marriage, but they are still running on a platform which touts a constitutional ban on gay marriage. How convenient for Cheney to try and appeal to the moderate Repubs and yet do nothing substantial to change policy. What a bunch of bullshit. Ok I'm getting steamed. I'm gonna just play my music a bit louder and try to make it through the day.

Lyrics from today are from the Los Lobos song, Que Nadie Sepa Mi Sufrir:

Que no puedo consolar me sin poder me contemplar

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Chasing nuns out in the yard

As tired as I am, I'm in a great mood. Our place is starting to come together. I love our bedroom. The owner is going to paint and I'm going to put colour in every room I can. Jerry wants to keep the living room white, but he's open to painting everything else. I'd love to paint the computer nook a deep, strong red or burgundy, but I fear that Jed would hated it.

We got a new bed, courtesy of the matriarch of the Resnik clan. It is amazingly comfortable and I love it. In fact, it's so comfortable, it almost hurts to sleep on it--my back is used to the horrid bed we got rid of. The delivery guys left it on the curb and a few hours later someone had taken the mattress pad (yuck) and then a little while later someone had cut a huge swatch of the garish fabric off of the mattress. Hours later, someone had taken the wheels from frame and even later the remains of the frame were gone. It's the urban version of using the whole buffalo.

There are some bright coloured, satiny oriental cushions I want and I found cute lamps that weren't anything too special, but weren't too pricey either. We dropped a ton of cash on new furniture this weekend, between hours spent cleaning the apartment and bed shopping. I'm really excited to get everything put together. We are in nesting mode and it's been pretty sweet. Jed keeps giving me these puppy eyes and I have to admit, I'm just as mooney and gayballs back. I can't help it. It feels really good to gaze into the future while thouroughly enjoying the present. It's not that life isn't rough occasionally, or that there aren't difficult times, but I feel blessed and fortunate and appreciative of all the gifts I've been given in this life. And that stuff is more present and real to me than the bad stuff. Maybe for the first time ever. I am really content. I love exactly what I've got.

Even my battleaxe boss is being more pleasant lately. I believe she doesn't care who's doing the job, as long as it's getting done, so I don't think she likes me particularly, but neither does she dislike me. I try really hard and work outrageous hours, so she must notice it a bit. But I don't make too many overtures with her on a personal level--it feels un-genuine and she's just too busy to waste her time on small talk. Some days she doesn't even greet me at all, just thrusts a pile of work at me, with her unintelligable scrawl of vague instructions and it doesn't really bother me. I don't really care about her either I suppose. She's made that the reality.

Oh I have to go, the boy is home and I want to know how his meeting went. I forsee very good things on the horizon.

I'm relying on Tori for easy lyrics

And if I die today, I'll be the happy phantom
and I'll go wearing my naughties like a jewel
They'll be my ticket to the universal opera
There's Judy Garland taking Buddha by the hand
And then these seven little men get up to dance
They say Confuscious does his crosswords with a pen
I'm still an angel to a girl who hates to sin

Oooh the time is getting closer
Oooh the time to be a ghost
Oooh the sun is getting dim
will I pay for who I've been

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

I have been exhausted and over-worked and I'm just so glad that it's Friday. I left early today with the perfect post-lunch excuse--a chipped tooth. It sucks. My evil boss had the nerve to ask if I'd gotten an appt with my dentist--cuz if not I should have stayed?!

We were joking at work today that her next asst should have a degree in psych or at least be insane herself--that way they can communicate on the same level. I was envisioning their conversation passing between their insanity antennae something like this: Loony #1: Deet-da-deet deet-deet, I want a zoot suit. Loony #2: Deet-da-deet, me too, lets go get them at lunch. Loony #1: Deet-da-deet, then I can get a monkey riding a pony. Loony #2: Deet-deet! It's a date.

We laughed very hard. One of the girls who joined in our mockery told me my boss is doing Match.com. I don't even want to comment on it. And Fretty photo-shopped her head onto a picture of Frankenstein for me, which makes me laugh every time I think about it.

I am fried, but I want to go out. I met the guys from the Drive-by Truckers at work today (I saw them at SXSW a few years ago and really love their music) and they gave me tix to their show tonight. And it's Sean Conroy's last night with the Swarm, which really makes me want to go (but it'll probably sell out and I'd like to try to do both). We've got the Yankee game tomorrow and maybe brunch with Mo and Marc on Sunday.

Jerry wants to know when we will finish getting the apartment together. He's been chilling--I think he works 3 days a week. I'm working 55 hrs a week. Maybe HE could put the butcher-block thing together? He also wants to know when we'll be bringing the TV down from Jed's parents. I will do it when I haven't had a hell week. Maybe even next weekend, but I'm doing fun stuff for a change.

Gotta go, the boy's home. I'll try to write more this weekend, but I'm really doubting I'll have the time.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Oh glorious day without my boss in the office. I am dying to leave early, but don't want to miss the hours. She has her damn Blackberry with her and she revels in endangering everyone on the plane by clicking away at me from 30,000 feet. I've been trying very hard to stay nice to her--I happen to know I won't have to answer to her soon, which is just about as joyful as I can feel--but sometimes her insanity makes me want to slap her down with a bit of reality. I'm determined to keep it together until they make me the offer to switch jobs.

So today some of the guests doing appearances at my job are Duran Duran (Simon LeBon looks exactly the same--only grumpier) and the Smithereens (meh--don't really care), AND ELVIS FUCKING COSTELLO. I am thrilled to death to see him, let alone if I actually get to meet him. We're not allowed to bug the talent, but no one cares if I hang out, staring into the giant glass studio that we call the fishbowl, from the balcony above. And I will, oh yes I will. I hope he's recording music, because sometimes that's piped through the offices.

I am in a great mood, but I am also feeling so angry and sad on behalf of one of my dearest friends. To her I send love and strength and courage. And a gigantic ass-whuppin for those in the world who would hurt her. Nuff said.

Ok. When the fuck is Simon LeBon going to get out of that damn studio, so that I may gaze upon one of the few poet/scholars of our time? My friends at the office say we should just go wink at him. That couldn't be construed as bugging--could it?

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Message from the loving living to those beyond the grave: No thank you.



Elvis has left the building.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

My older sister is in town from LA. I wish she had brought my nephew with her--I miss him terribly and want to see his little adorable, cherubic face again. He has David Bowie eyes and the sweetest four-year-old lisp. And when you ask him something he doesn't feel like answering, he says, "I not know" and it melts me every time.

My younger sister is coming out from SF in a couple of weeks, so I'll be getting a huge dose of family--and it's not even the "holiday season." I am looking forward to seeing my younger sister much more than my older sister. We're closer (in age and in general) and I miss laughing with her. I laugh a lot with my older sister, too, but I also find her slightly frightening--she's quite...mercurial. And that's not the easiest trait to deal with.

I am feeling so achey--I really hope I'm just tired, and not coming down with a flu. I want to enjoy the weekend. Again, my older sister is in town, so the whole enjoying the weekend thing is up for grabs. I really don't want to be here today. It's bright and crisp outside and it's been a really long week. My battle-axe boss has hired a new assistant, who starts on Monday, and my other boss wants me to work for her, exclusively. The only problem is the president of the company has not signed the paperwork involved, although he's verbally agreed to it. So officially, I don't know if I have a job or not. It's extremely unsettling. I'm sure it will work itself out, but I hate being up in the air. I am supposed to find out by the end of today what's going on with my position--but the good news is that I don't have to work for the loony anymore.

Mo's boss said some crazy fucking things to me yesterday, about my religion and appearance, and then realized what a big no-no that was and apologised profusely. Then she wanted a hug. I am still feeling annoyed by it and slightly harrassed. But I mostly hated having to give her a hug--to make HER feel better. I wish I had said no, but it was so awkward.

George W. Bush is an ethnocentric, egocentric, war-mongering, hypocritical, bigoted, lying idiot. Does that give comfort to the enemy, to say that? Since when did speaking the truth become a crime? I want my country back. And he looks like a damn monkey. But a monkey would have been better at debating.

I love Mo!!!!!! She has been the very best part of working here. I couldn't have gotten through it without her. I am excited to do the stich-n-bitch next week AND the girly dinner night. It will be good to see Kelly and Leigh and Cindee and all the other amazing ladies in that gang. And if I'm really lucky, I'll see my Sarah Lane this weekend. Oh the joys abound. Which makes me think of Superabound by Frank Black, which will be today's lyrics:

You must see my domicile
I had it built in decastyle
The other day at the potlatch
Come visiting was a sasquatch
He said although i'm a mismatch
Could i stay just for awhile?
'cause the likes of us are few
And we still got nothing to do
I superabound
But i still got nothing to do

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

So the president of my company didn't approve the position that my boss (the cool one) was trying to create for me. I'm working through the end of my contract--end of the month--and then I'm off into the wild blue. I feel good about it, though, because my boss has asked that I consider working for her next year, if she can get the position into that budget. People have been freaking out that I'm leaving, which I have to admit is sort of gratifying. It's cool. I had fun and made a ton of dough while I was here, so I can't complain too much. And there are other potential jobs on the horizon.

I might have to take a bit of time and go to the West Coast--I am jonesing to see my nephew. I just got an offer today to drive a car from South Dakota to NY (which I am truly tempted by--I love that trip).

My little sis will be here next week and I can't wait to hang with her. She's a bratty one, but so much fun. She recently went to Burning Man, which cracks me up, since she hates drugs and anything hippie-ish, and crowds, and getting dirty. I want to get the details from her--I'm sure it's going to be a riot.

I have very little to do today. I am thrilled to be here, getting paid and chilling. The woman who replaced me is... 1. Not going to last beyond 3 weeks, 2. Not a good listener, 3. Knows everything about the company already, 4. Lied on her resume or had some not-too-demanding bosses in the past--she doesn't know how to use outlook and refuses to multi-task, 5.Has to be the biggest butt-kisser I've ever met (which may actually negate point #1). All of this stuff adds up to her having a worse time of it than I did. Part of me feels badly for her, but mostly, I feel relieved that she has to deal with the lunacy of my awful ex-boss. It's her problem now--god that makes me happy. My cool boss has basically said that she'll have some projects for me later, but to go ahead and chill for now (man, oh man, do I love to hear that).

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

I've been meaning to post this poem I read on the Subway, from a poem called Bouquet, by Bei Dao:

Between me and the world
You are a calendar, a compass
A ray of light that slips through the gloom
You are a biographical sketch, a bookmark
A preface that comes at the end

Between me and the world
You are a gauze curtain, a mist
A lamp shining into my dreams
You are a bamboo flute, a song without words
A closed eyelid carved in stone




I have to dedicate those lines to my love. You are my moon and stars.

This weekend will be spent trying to get the spare bedroom in good order for my sister's visit. We have to go to Jed's parents house and bring down the rest of my junk, which will be nice since I miss them (and I miss my stuff). Even with all the new furniture, I don't know how the clothes are going to fit--it will be scary.

I had to re-train the chick who replaced me today--I've told her and shown her 3 times how to book travel. This is not going to be fun for her. Oh well. I am not going to feel bad for her--she's pretty smarmy--and still doesn't listen. I don't think she fully gets that I'm not going to be here much longer and won't be able to run over whenever she forgets something I've told her. I am just waiting for the first time the psycho makes her cry for something that's not her fault. Mean? Maybe. Human--certainly.

Crazy people do crazy things in their relationships. People who suffer from intense low self-esteem do stupid things, like taking back ex's that they shouldn't. These people make their bad choices and they deserve what they get--an awful drop. And if these people are cruel, spiteful and vindictive, it's pretty hard not to enjoy watching their fall.

If anyone is bothered by my use of this journal to express myself, whether it be for happy thoughts, or yucky ones, JUST STOP READING IT. But really, don't try to impose your control issues upon me, by telling me how I should or should not feel, nor by telling me what I should or should not write in here. Keep your judgemental bullshit trained closely at your own behaviour and at the behaviour of the people you call your friends.

 

[Cap'n Blackett]

Lyrics from Slow Emotion Replay by The The--inspired by the political climate and fear of my own apathy:

The more I see
The less I know
About all the things I thought were wrong or right
& carved in stone

So, don't ask me about
War, Religion, or God
Love, Sex, or Death
Because....

Everybody knows what's going wrong with the world
But I don't even know what's going on in myself.

You've gotta work out your own salvation.
With no explanation to this Earth we fall
On hands & knees we crawl
And we look up to the stars
And we reach out & pray
To a deaf, dumb & blind God who never explains.

Every body knows what's going wrong with the world
But I don't even know what's going on in myself.

Lord, I've been here for so long
I can feel it coming down on me
I'm just a slow emotion replay of somebody I used to be