The Fatherland's No Place To Die For

HAVEN'T LISTENED TO Air America in weeks, maybe even months. Right after I was laid off I used to listen to Al Franken sometimes, but I really only liked two shows enough to tune in consistently, the morning show with Mark Maron and then Mike Malloy at night (maybe it's an M thing), and of course they have both been canceled, at least in the New York area. Even more tragically, Malloy's time slot has been filled with the uber-lame Satellite Sisters, which Jeanane Garafolo had the guts to blast a few months ago on air, saying that altho she was sure they were nice people, she knew of no one who actually liked them. I agree big-time. Their show consists of 4 or 5 sisters living in different cities on a group conference call babbling endlessly/needlessly about their boring social/love lives. Brutal radio. In practice it's even more hideous than the description would have you believe, with zero political insight or content. It should be used to torture what prisoners remain at camps like Guantanamo, along with archives from the mercifully cancelled David Lee Roth radio program. Hell, come to think of it, anything David Lee Roth does is a form of torture to anyone with half a brain.

For a late night political talk fix I turn now to Lionel on WOR-AM 710 on your dial, just Lionel, no last name needed, who is on my wavelength now both literally & figuratively. Knowledgeable, intelligent and properly vituperative & unforgiving toward the right-wing loonies who call in to voice support for Gruppenfuhrer Bush and our heroic Stormtroopers protecting our freedom and our way of life.

I have decided to boycott Imus in the Morning and the Daily News, for similar reasons. Imus' show has become a platform for some of the most detestable personalities/celebrities of various political stripes, but mostly right wing scum. Imus himself adopts a ridiculous Cowboy persona that would be laughable if he didn't wield so much power; I live for the day when his world comes tumbling down. Here's a short list of the human crap he gives an uncritical pass to: Joseph Lieberman, Laura Inghram, Donald Trump, Orrin Hatch, Rick Santorum, Jay Severin, George Will, etc. But the crowning blow for me was allowing self-styled retard Bo Dietl to give his viewpoint on the Middle East, which was basically kill all the Arabs and let God sort them out. The show is long past its prime and will not be missed.

The Daily News has long been listing to the right under the pathetic Mort Zuckerman's twisted stewardship, coming off like a pale imitation of the New York Post. The paper that used to employ populist writers of staggering talent like Jimmy Breslin and Pete Hamill is unrecognizable now. The final straw for me had to be a column by Michael Goodwin, a smiling yuppie hack and unapologetic Bushie cut from the David Brooks weenie mold. In a column titled Give War A Chance: Hezbollah Starts A Fight, So It's Time To Teach Terror A Lesson, he posits that Israel, by the very fact that it is Israel, can literally do no wrong and should prosecute this latest war with unbridled savagery so as to stop terrorism for generations to come. Of course, it's not the neoconmen who will be doing the fighting. So now the Post of course is out, the News is out, the Times is too expensive so I just read it online; that leaves me with Newsday, the Voice, the New York Press, and the free daily papers, amNewYork and metro. Which is enuf to get me thru the week. Here's hoping there's a Hezbollah rocket with Goodwin's name on it.

Twenty Years Of Schoolin' & They Put You On The Day Shift

For those of us keeping track, today marks my 18th straight day of work since the ill-fated Hotel W. experiment -- a modern freelance record for me. I'm due back at LT. this coming Monday & Tuesday, so I'm guaranteed to have at least 20 days running. Then we play it by ear; maybe they won't need me Wednesday, for instance, but will ask me to come back on Thursday & Friday. But it's good that I'm basically the proofreader du jour, if not du whatever the French word for week is. Plus, as my regular readers will know, this week was significant in that I got Select back in the rotation. I am well nigh loved & respected there, getting along famously with all the kids. I got skills to pay the bills.

I'm not as superstitious as I used to be, life has beaten that out of me, so I must say that this L.T. gig is the least stressful $$$ I ever made. I'm used to proofreading or editing pages & pages of text copy under tight deadlines, so naturally this is going to seem easy by comparison. For instance, I was here 4 hours on Tuesday without a scintilla of work coming my way. Yesterday I had perhaps 15 minutes of total work out of 5 1/2 hours. Which means you really have to focus and concentrate when the work does come in. It's almost like my own personal internet cafe, but instead of me paying a buck for every 15 minutes, I am instead paid to sit here while I surf the proverbial net until I'm needed. But M. said he wants someone here ready in case something comes along. Usually it's a poster or advertisement for an upcoming show that I look at & then sign off on. I see it as a win-win situation for everyone involved. They get my unparalleled expertise in all matters proofreading, almost like I'm a proofing consultant; I get the benefit of their quite reasonable financial remuneration. Of course, they don't have to pay me benefits or the like. It seems like they laid off a lot of people in recent times, and it's a big TV network, so they're still way ahead if you look at like that. In fact, the network just paid the staggering sum of $500,000 per episode for the rights to broadcast a hit show that ABC owns.

Now, the reality is that it could all end at any time. But that is life itself in a nutshell: no guarantees all around. Anything can end at any time: a job, a relationship, a loved one. It's best to take it a day at a time while looking slightly ahead and keeping a positive outlook, like a mutant cross between Norman Vincent Peale and Jean-Paul Sartre.

Select Communique

Had just started my shift at L.T. yesterday -- my 14th straight day of work since the Friday I decided to quit the hotel and focus exclusively on freelancing -- when I got a call from A. saying S.Comm. wants me for tomorrow at 2:00. Trouble is, I was already booked by L.T. through Wednesday. An old-fashioned quandary, because L.T. likes me to stay at least till 4:00. But I told M. the sitch. Looking back, I probably would have been better off making up a doctor's appointment, because I could tell he was a little put off.

The thing is, I have to keep S. in the rotation. As those of you have been following along know, S. is my favorite & they pay great & I like working there & they were the first to hire me back in March I think it was, so I couldn't afford to take a chance of alienating them again by turning them down. (The problem with blogs is that they are read back to front but it is assumed that people are familiar with everything that came before.) They hadn't called me in a month since I had to turn them down two days running while I was training at Hotel W, which I never was paid for by the way. I could tell M. was a little ... oh, pissed is too strong a word, but he didn't like the idea of A. calling me with an assignment when they knew I was already booked here at L.T. for the day. I explained that it was a one time thing. I have to fill in the blanks with other stuff for the days when L.T. isn't gonna book me. It's called looking out for numero uno.

That said, it is good to be wanted. So I will work from 10-2 at L.T. here in Midtown, then shoot Downtown to Varick Street and work from 2:30 to whenever. This is how I envisioned freelancing eventually turning out. It's a juggling act. So again, just to belabor the point ad nauseum, I think I made, make that I know I made the right choice. I feel very good about myself and my work situation at this point. All I needed was a chance. I'm good at what I do, but as a proofreader you have to stay on your toes mentally because that one mistake could and probably will come back to haunt you; you're only as good as the last thing you do. That's what the client will remember. That and being professional and personable, of course. And in the back of your mind, you want to make the gals at my freelance agency proud of you, because they were there for me when I really needed them and they got me all this work. Of course I make them money as well by being booked. It's the proverbial two-way street.

I also want to do some proofreading on my own. Make up some cards and put them in the internet cafes in Astoria, in the coffee shops. I already have the name: EagleEyeProofreading. I can look at things like screenplays, books, freelance articles, cover letters, proposals, resumes, etc. Words are words. There are a lot of self-styled creative artist types in Astoria that I can tap into. I even have a logo in mind, the eye of an eagle looking thru a magnifying glass at some printed type on a page. Why settle for less than perfect? could be the motto. Oh it's all taking off for me now. Who can take a nothing day and certainly make it all seem worthwhile?

Leading American MEdiocrities

It should be self-explanatory, but celebrities make this list via a combination of extreme overexposure, financial success beyond all common bounds of decency, and a demonstrable, tangible lack of talent and taste. Here we go, in no particular order of crappiness, general annoyance and/or damage to Western Civilization.

Adam Sandler - the modern face of multiplex mediocrity
Matt Lauer - the morning show moron looks clinically insane
Regis Philbin - Just. Go. Away. Already.
Ray Romano - embodiment of the safe, smug suburban asshole
Bon Jovi - his anti-Bush sentiments aren't enough to save this teeny-bopping poseur
Taylor Hicks - manufactured winner of glorified karaoke contest: somebody had to win
George W. Bush - a consensus choice for worst president ever and head of a dangerous cult of lunatics known as Republicans
Robin Williams - has literally not said anything funny since 1982
Chevy Chase - founding father for all the SNL alumni who have poisoned movies since the late 1970s
Drew Barrymore - has anyone seen even one picture of this "actress" without her trademark vacuous smile?
Bruce Willis - king of the forgettable action heroes
Tom Cruise - Scientologist head case
Eva Longoria - current reigning bimbo queen and future has-been
Kevin Costner - the poster child for painfully wooden acting
Ashton Kutcher - a male bimbo and from all accounts a total douchebag who astoundingly had even 15 minutes of fame
Everyone from the cast of Friends
Keanu Reeves - an embarrassingly inept actor even by today's low standards, who wouldn't dream of appearing in a film that wasn't totally carried by CGI or other special effects
Katie Couric - is anyone else sick of her inane gummy smile by now?
Tim Allen - ex-cokehead jerkoff who wallows in a uniquely American strain of self-satisfied dumbness
Sylvestor Stallone - one of the leading avatars of cinematic stupidity
Madonna - her inexplicable popularity and critical acclaim have always baffled
Jim Belushi - all the talent in the family obviously went to his late, demented, brilliant brother
Dr. Phil - a fat greedy charlatan who should be clubbed to death by sadistic Japanese seal hunters
Rosie O'Donnell - even her affected public Lesbianism gives her zero hipness
Howard Stern - was funny for about 5 minutes in the 1980s; his horrible, ugly fan base says it all
David Hasselhoff - couldn't even make the D-list of bad television actors
Dan Ackroyd - actually a case of squandered comedic talent: why couldn't he have died young instead of his long-deceased Blues Brother?

Mother Of All Websites

I have become obsessed with Wikipedia, the incredible online encylopedia. The whole history of civilization is literally at your fingertips! One search leads to another, which leads to another, and each entry has links within it. These are just some of the topics I have researched in recent days:
Easter Island
Stonehenge
Pol Pot
Pirates
Hitler
Llamas
Stalin Purges
SamuelBeckett
Ancient Greece
ConcentrationCamps
Mussolini
Shining Path
Swastikas
SpanishInquisition
Crucifixion


Random Wikipedia Facts:
Adolph Hitler was a strict vegeterian;

Some have theorized that Stonehenge, seen from above, represents the female sexual organ;

The word faggot to describe homosexuals comes from the twigs used to burn them at the stake in Medieval times;

Pirates wore heavy gold earrings because they thought pressure on the ear eased seasickness, and because the gold could be used to pay for funeral expenses;

The more irritated a llama is, the further back into each of its three stomach compartments it will reach to draw materials for its spit;

The word excruciating comes from crucifixion;

The swastika symbol dates to the 5th Millenium BC and is found in Hindu and Buddhist temples; is on the flag of the Kuna people of Panama; was used by American Indians, ancient Greeks as well as Celtic peoples; was seen on Arizona state highway markers until the late 1920s; and was worn as a unit symbol by the 45th Infantry of the U.S. Army until the 1930s;

In Ancient Greece, street prosititutes not only were registered and paid taxes, but some wore sandals with marked soles that left an imprint stating "Follow Me" on the ground;

According to oral tradition, a common insult on Easter Island was, "The flesh of your mother sticks between my teeth."

The Next Best Thing

Not only am I booked thru-out this week, but M. P., the titular head of the production dept., just came over and said I was working out better than the other proofreaders they use and, although at the present time he couldn't offer me a full-time position per se, meaning 40 hours each and every week, he wants me to come in on a consistent basis every week! How fucking great is that? Plus, 30 hours here at 22 an hour adds up to 40 hours at the hotel at 15 per, and the schedule here is much, much better. Okay, so no benefits, but it's the next best thing. And if a full-time official position does open up, he seemed to intimate that I would likely be considered for that. I like all the people I interact with here, in fact the office is filled with cute young creative intelligent female type womenfolk, and M. said if I need to work around some other jobs like last week, he would be amenable to that. So it looks like at least for now I made the right decision to stick with the wild & wacky world of freelance proofreading. And let's face it: it would have been a waste of my immense mental talents to stand behind a hotel desk and wait on precious, pampered East Side types. This gives me a certain peace of mind, at least temporarily, because nothing is forever, nothing is guaranteed and, in the immortal words of one Bobby Dylan, nothing was delivered.

Here All Week

I am booked at L.T. thru this week, so that will give me a string of 12 days of work in a row, which isn't bad for freelancing; usually there are some gaps. So without trying to jinx myself, ever since I made up my mind to forgo the hotel and stick to freelancing, I've worked every day, not counting the 4th of July. In fact, I would have been better off never saying yes to the hotel job, because not only does it look like I won't be getting paid for the training days I put in, but I could have worked that whole week either at S. or at L.T. -- plus, I may have somehow alienated the folks at S.C. because when they really needed me I had to turn them down. I would have never fallen behind money-wise if I had just stuck to freelancing. But at the time I thought the hotel gig would work out, before I realized what I was getting into. I won't go into the details; I already outlined them in previous posts.

This L.T. proofreading gig might be the easiest work I've ever done. There are enormous gaps between things to proof. Basically I'm looking at the same posters and ads for the same shows over and over again, which run in trade publications as well as on the sides of buses and on top of taxicabs. It is the opposite of catering, the yin to its yang. In catering you're busy for 5 or 6 hours and you're lucky if you get a 5 or 10 minute break; here there's about 20 or 30 minutes of work for every 5 or 6 hour shift. In catering you're on your feet all day, running around and doing a thousand different menial tasks; here I sit on my butt and use my brain. It's almost too good to be true, but they keep asking me back and seem to appreciate my effort and my expertise. Today I caught a bunch of errors in a glossy promotional package they were sending out; that made me feel useful, and apparently they're gonna have to reprint the entire 200 or so letters. So I have been justifying my presence here. But I really would rather be kept busy because the time goes quicker. Ah, who am I fooling? I'm sure you don't believe a word of it.

At the other proofreading gigs, at S.C. and especially last week at C.B., I'm usually kept busy the entire time. They really don't call you unless there's a specific need or publication date coming up, whereas here at L.T. I'm on standby, so to speak, more of a consultant, where in the parlance of the office, I sign off on this or that ad, meaning it's good to go. I'm fortunate this gig showed up when it did, and hopefully I'll be needed at least 3 times a week for the foreseeable future. I don't want to obsess about it, but I wish Select would call sometime soon so that I can get back in their rotation. You'll be the first to know when it happens, here on WardensWorld!

In Demand

Booked solid this week: Monday & Friday at L.T., Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday at C.B., and L.T. said they would need me on Wednesday night for a couple of hours, which means a minimum of 4 hours as that's the minimum billing charge at A. Sweet. It's nice to be in demand. And if S. calls, I will try to squeeze them in Tuesday or Thursday nite. This could be the week that really gets me caught up, or close to it. Actually I need about a month where I'm booked solid every day. At least this week it looks like I made the right choice in not giving up the freelance stuff. I still haven't told anyone I gave the hotel job up after 3 days. Most people wouldn't understand my logic. They never do. So this is an exclusive WardensWorld scoop!

Pseudo-celebrity sighting: Last Wednesday, I think it was, near Madison Square Garden, saw a pensive bordering on sad-looking Curtis Sliwa, the former Mafia Kidnapping Victim & current Right Wing Talk Radio Blowhard, wearing his trademark Guardian Angels red beret & red jacket, with Curtis emblazoned in cursive across his chest. I mean, if you were kidnapped even once, would you make it easy for future kidnappers to identify you or would you at the least adopt some rudimentary disguise?...

...I'm still trying to figure out which is more disturbing when it comes to North Korean madman Kim Jong Il: his ridiculous hairdo or the fact that he owns the planet's largest collection of Daffy Duck videos. Oh yeah, and he has killed millions of his own people through starvation and labor camps in his police state and he is intent on trying to create a next world war. This guy makes Our Guy look stable.

If you added up the total viewing time I spent watching American Idol, it would be under an hour. That's not just this year, it's all the years. Does that make me a perfect sentient being? Maybe, maybe not. But one thing I am not is a sheep, which sets me apart from most Americans. Idol is nothing more than a totally manufactured, overhyped talent contest. And because of it we now have to be subjected to this year's "winner" Taylor Whatshisname's horrid caterwauling on those near-ubiquitous car commercials. It doesn't seem fair that those of us who avoided watching that crap night after night are now exposed to an overexposed hack of a singer. Let me get this straight: people are supposed to choose a certain vehicle based on this ad campaign? I think it's more likely that anyone hearing this guy will drive off the road. Bloody awful.

American Idol is on a list of network shows that I will never watch; it joins the following shows that give me a feeling of nausea deep in the pit of my stomach: Lost, House, any home makeover show, all state-sponsored propaganda like 24, any medical or hospital show, anything on CBS with an acronym in it, including CSI, NCIS, JAG; any show where a bunch of vapid, braindead young narcissists share a house or an apartment (except for America's Next Top Model), all teenage soap opera fare that runs endlessly on the WB or on UPN (except for the always amusing Gilmore Girls); any fictional portrayal of the life of a president (i.e., West Wing, Commander in Chief); all Survivor incarnations, and most police procedural dramas, including Law & Order, although I used to love NYPD Blue in its heyday. Obviously that doesn't leave much except the aforementioned Top Model, reruns of King of Queens, The Simpsons and Seinfeld, The Office (the American one), some Sex & The City, Girlfriends (also known as the Black Sex & The City), the occasional Jeopardy, Hell's Kitchen, Globetrekker, Antiques Roadshow once in a while and New York Noise. When I had cable I really only watched HBO, Independent Film Channel and Turner Classic Movies. I thought Deadwood was the best show in many years, heads & shoulders above the criminally overrated Sopranos. That's about it in this age of the reality show nightmare. Then there's radio, reading and listening to music. And oh yeah, going outside.

Change Of Plans

Lo and behold, I sit here again at L.TV, a half-hour early for my 11 to 4 shift. I'm booked here for the rest of this week, then 3 days next week at C.B. I'm hoping Select will fill in the blanks. I almost got a 4th account, an advertising agency that wanted to know if I was available for work over the July 4th weekend. Of course I said I was, but they never called. Oh well, at least I'm on the radar. Now, you may ask, why am I sitting here if I'm supposed to be training at Le Hotel W. Well... I decided after 2 days of training and around 3 days of heavy consideration that it was never going to work out. I thought about it long and hard, and I did not make the decision lightly.

In order for me to undertake the training at the Hotel, I would have had to put my freelance jobs on hold. It took me like 4 months to build up my portfolio, if you will, and reach the point where I am consistently considered for freelance work at 3 different places. First, the freelance stuff pays a lot more. The hours are normal, not 11pm to 7am. Now, what would have happened if two months down the line the hotel didn't work out? Then I would be left with nothing -- no freelance work, because they would have just gone on to the next available proofreader. And I just had a gut feeling that the hotel was not gonna work out. I didn't like it at all, there was a ton of stuff still to learn. I was stressed out about learning all the stuff, but still confident that I would eventually learn it all. With all the stuff to learn, I was looking at a mininum of 3, 4, maybe even 5 weeks before I could begin the night shift. By then all the freelance stuff would be gone to some other proofreader. It just didn't seem like a good fit. So I took a chance. Time will tell if it was the right thing to do.

I found myself outside the Hotel W at 5 to 10 last Friday, wondering if I should go in and resume training or if I should find R. and tell him it wasn't gonna work out. I had just moments before received a call from K. at my freelance agency telling me that C.B. wanted me for at least 3 days during the week of July 10. I already knew that LT wanted me for this week, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. So I was sitting there pondering all this when a bus rolled by with one of the very posters on the side that I had proofread! I took that as a sign. So I went in and told R. of my decision. Now, in any event, the benefits were not gonna kick in for 3 months anyway at the hotel. So what am i really losing there? I have 20 years of experience in publishing, zero experience in the hotel game. I think the freelance stuff is only gonna get more steady from here on in. All I need is two more good gigs to go with the three I'm jugging now and I will really be in business. I'm gonna stay positive.

Now, I know some of you are not gonna agree with my decision. But I had to go with my heart on this one. The big differentiating factor is that I actually like my freelance work, look forward to it, while I don't think that was ever going to be the case at the hotel; I was never going to be comfortable. And the hours! Plus it paid like 10 dollars an hour less. The only upside was the steady nature of the work. All I need though is 4 days a week freelancing to match the 5 days at the hotel. In the back of my mind i'm counting on the catering work in the fall to make up for any shortfall. That's if Tony still lets me do it once he finds out I "bailed" on the hotel. After all, he got me the interview thru a friend of his. We'll see. I don't consider it bailing.

Ironically, I applied for a night proofreading gig, 8pm to 2am, on craigslist last week. Pays 24 bucks an hour. It's a night shift, but not the graveyard shift. If I get that I would really be on my way; then I can pick and choose the occasional freelance assignment. I feel like a fool because I called everyone and their mother as the saying goes as soon as I got the hotel job, telling them how excited I was to finally land a ful-ltime, permanent position. But the more I think about it, the more I know I made the right decision, as much as we can ever know something with certainty. That's it in a nutshell.

Reprogrammed my iRiver over the weekend, deleting about 5 hours worth of music (out of a total of around 17 1/2 hours) & replacing it mostly with Vintage Punk that was heretofore in short supply. I got rid of stuff I already had in other formats, like Hendrix and REM, and put in a lot of Clash, Gang of 4, XRay Spex, Buzzcocks, Dead Kennedys, Stiff Little Fingers, old Bowie & some much-needed Jayhawks, Son Volt, early Wilco...now it feels more like me somehow.

Been on a major reading kick, the best spate in literally years and years. Started with the Columbus Last Voyage book, continued on through Massacres of the American West, then read a few sports books, bios of Bill Bellichick and Roberto Clemente, continued with a definitive bio of Cambodian madman Pol Pot, then finished Red Scarf Girl, a memoir of the Chinese Cultural Revolution as seen thru the eyes of a teenager. I guess I gravitate toward political extremism.

One interesting aspect of the Cambodian revolution was how closely it mirrored the French Revolution in its use of terror, how Robespierre was in fact a direct historical antecedent to Pol Pot, even more than the more obvious communist models. Not to be overlooked is the part the U.S. played in setting the conditions that allowed political extremism to flourish: the indiscriminate bombings, its support of corrupt right wing regimes, etc. Even more mind-numbing is the reaction by the U.S. to the fall of Pol Pot's regime; rather than elation, administration after administration saw fit to lend their support to Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, in hopes that a new government would eventually oust the one installed in Cambodia by Vietnam. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, seems to be the guiding principle, then as now.

Now I am reading an account of North Vietnam circa 1967 by Times correspondent Harrison Salisbury that I found for a buck at Argosy on 59th Street. One book usually leads to another when you're on a good roll. Also reading an account of the Greek resistance during WWII. Turns out that America and Britain basically prevented the Communists from having any say in the postwar process even though they valiantly fought the fascists during the war. Then America had a big role installing the brutal reactionary government of the Colonels from 1967 to 1974.

More to follow as details make themselves known.

Learning Curve

Sitting here at L.T. a few minutes before I begin a shift. Yesterday I completed my first shift at the Hotel W., from 10am to 6pm. All I can say is: Oh. My. God. I never thought it would be this complicated, never thought there would be so much to learn. A whole new computer system. Of course every new job there is a learning curve. The people behind the desk have been there 5 or 6 years, but it is just overwhelming to consider all the stuff I have to learn. I was training during the busiest time, with about 30 check-ins and 30 check-outs, but the phone is always ringing, and there's a checklist of like 30 or 40 things to do on every shift. So my enthusiasm and relief at finally getting a full-time job is going to be seriously tempered by the stress and pressure I am feeling to get at least the nuts and bolts of the job down by a certain time. The good thing is the 11pm-7am shift is never going to be as busy as the period I will be training in. I return tomorrow and Friday to continue training.

Of course, now that I am busy with the Hotel, all the proofreading jobs are calling A. asking for my services. The agency even used the word "beg" -- as in J. from S.Communications is begging for me to show up and edit an important job. I feel really bad that I had to sort of blow off Select, my favorite of all the proofreading jobs, yesterday, because they have been so nice to me and seem so appreciative of my work. Maybe I should have chosen them instead of L.T. today, although L.T. did call first. So while it's nice to be wanted, it is still impossible to be in two places at once. However, I am having doubts about my ability to catch on with all the stuff I need to learn at the Hotel. I am going to stick it out but I hope that by the end of this week I can gain confidence in my ability to master at least the rudiments of the position. I can't tell you how stressed I am. But I remember the same stress when I started the market survey job as well as when I got promoted to production editor at the Transcript. The difference is the people at the hotel are unfailingly polite and understanding, so all the pressure is coming from me. But that's of little relief, because stress is stress, and I can hardly breathe, at the risk of sound overly melodramatic.

Interpersonal Interaction & Interconnection

Just returned from a five-hour assignment at S.Communications. They also said they would need me next week. I talked to someone there who freelanced at the same agency I'm registered at and was just hired full-time. Of course, it's a slightly different animal in that those are all Web designers and graphic artists while I can best be described as an old-school proofreader, portraits a specialty. Odd Couple reference, people. But it would be a nice place to work full time, I think. Who knows, people change according to different circumstances, and there is some...if not yelling, then some degree of friction, usually the result of deadline pressure. But the people there have been nothing but cool to me. They all pass me around from person to person, interacting interpersonally all the while. And at the end of the day, isn't that what it's all about? Of course it is, jerky. And there are some really hot young wimmens I'd like to...interconnect with, shall we say.

Still haven't heard from the Hotel Wales regarding my starting date. I thought R. said someone would be in contact with me regarding beginning my training. I am anxious to start. Hopefully I can juggle the training with the freelance assignments that are coming my way. All of a sudden I am in demand. I worked four days this week, three at S. and one at L.T. It went well at L.T. yesterday, I was there from 10 to 5:30 and met a lot of different people who all promised they would be sending me work. I got the same grateful vibe there that I get at S. One person said they were glad i was there that day after i caught a bunch of stylistic inconsistencies in a promotional letter. That's what i do, people. However, I realize that i am just one of maybe 3 or 4 freelance proofreaders on their list. And with no Internet capability at home, I would have to shoot to the library or the internet cafe to send edit the stuff and then send it back. If i start getting a shitload of work I will have to get something at home. AOL Dialup sucks, though, but it may be my only choice.

I may look into a new apartment soon. If the Hotel gig works out and i can juggle the freelance stuff and the catering when that comes, i will look for something at the end of the summer, beginning of fall. I need a change of pace. But it has to be a significant upgrade at the same rate before I even consider it. I really need wood floors at this stage of my life. Is that too much to ask?

Welcome To The Hotel Wales, It's Such A Lovely Place...

Yesterday, June 21, year of our lord 2006, will go down as one of the BEST days of my short, happy life. I landed two prime gigs, one a fulltime job and the other a choice freelance assignment. First, I got the Hotel Wales job. R. called and told me I got the job. He actually said, Welcome to the Hotel Wales. Those were some sweet words to hear! He said J. from S. Communications, who I used as a reference, said glowing things about me. I will begin training during the day, possibly as soon as tomorrow, and then switch to the 11pm to 7am shift, known as the graveyard shift for obvious reasons. But I am an off-peak kind of guy, yes, someone who has tired of the whole 9-5 world after doing it for years and years. Never mind the mainstream. The job has excellent benefits, including a 401k, health benefits, vacation time, etc.

Secondly, I am now a freelance proofer for L. TV over on 49th and 8th . L.T. is the cable network that reruns shows like Golden Girls and Frasier around 20 times a day. Check the listings, I'm not making this up. I will go work on premises at their offices a few times, but then they will send me the work to do at home, and then i can send it back online. Best of all possible worlds. And not a moment too soon.

Yesterday and Tuesday I worked down at S. on Varick. I love that place. And everyone seems to like me. They're alway saying things like, we're so glad you could make it, and thanks so much for going over this stuff. God bless my freelance agency, especially K., who has been incredibly helpful and nice at a time when I was down and out. Thanks to them I now have three very good freelance accounts. I hope to keep all of them them indefinitely and then procure even more assignments. These gigs range from 22 to 25 bucks an hour, but of course the work is usually sporadic. L.T., however, seems to be promising a steady stream of work. So things are looking up.

Well, just wanted to get this on the record. Thanks to all who were there for me during the darkest hours: my brother, sister, Bob & Holly, Chrys, Tony, my Aunt Vickie, and to all who listened to me bitch day after day. I had to stay mentally tough during this long hard slough. At times I felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The low point had to be the horrible market research job on Irving Plaza. One of the worst jobs I ever had -- and I once worked in the garment district, as a messenger, as a roofer, as a truck loader in a warehouse in beautiful Secaucus, New Jersey, along with many other horrible jobs. Also horrible was the shipping and handling job I had, stuck in a freezing cold garage for hours all by myself, with only a radio for company. And then to be let go by a supposed friend with no prospects. That was tough sledding. At least I had the balls to walk away from the market survey job. I always tried to take the high road, although there are some people out there who deserve my wrath. But that would serve no positive purpose, even to those who claim Revenge is its own Reward. But as John Cooper Clarke once said/screamed in the 1977 punk non-hit Innocents: "Revenge is a strong emotion, friction is the mother of pearl; it's a disappointing, disapproving, disappearing world ... NOW WHAT'S THIS!"

This week continues to just fucking rock! Just seconds ago got another call from A. informing me that S. needs me back yet again tomorrow. That's four solid days of freelancin' this week! I have no idea when I will draw my first paycheck from the Hotel, so this will give me a nice check to pick up next week until the new job kicks in. Peace...

Not Looking Back, Preferably

It's been a busy few days. No I didn't hear from the hotel yet. Robert the manager who interviewed me left a message for me yesterday afternoon, saying the other guy applying for the job who canceled his interview Friday apparently canceled again yesterday and would be in today. So it's b/w me and a guy who has already postponed his interview twice. It's already past 4 today so I expect to hear something soon.

Worked for S. Comm. today, and found out they want me back there again tomorrow. That's good, but it's still not the best news of the day. That honor would go to the news that L.TV wants to see me tomorrow, and it looks like they already have some work. If i wasn't tied up with S. I could have started there tomorrow, but as it is they want to have a meet&greet at their place. I have an 11:00 appointment with them and then it's back downtown to S. by 1:00, where at this point everyone really does know my name. If everything works out, it looks like I will have 4 days of work this week, and not a moment too soon.

I spent part of yesterday bemoaning to myself the fact that I publicly bemoaned in this space my lack of money -- you know: green stuff, cabbage, pesos, dinero. I really don't need anyone's pity, and so I was almost going to delete that post. But let it stand as a monument, perhaps a benchmark, in that I hope to never again have to sink so low and wallow in self-pathos, if that's what it came off as. i don't know, i never read over my posts, or hardly ever: i just forge ahead. And, like some freakish amalgam of Bartleby the Scrivener, Bob Dylan and Satchell Paige, let the record state that I would prefer not to look back, literally or figuratively, because what good it would do. Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune...

I just did a Google search for Billy Loes, a pitcher for the Yankees and Dodgers and some other teams in the Fifties and a fellow Greek who was born here in Astoria. An All-Star in 1957! My Aunt Vickie said she knew him or went out with him back in the day. She wanted me to find out about him. She's become a huge baseball fan, following every Mets game religiously. You're able to print 20 pages at a time here at the Library. How great is that? I never knew about it. Beats the hell out of the Internet cafe, which I will save only for emergencies in the future, until I get internet service at home, whenever that day comes. Noticed over the weekend that the Orioles have a Greek outfielder, the name gave it away: Nick Markakis. A few years ago my cousin Linda wrote to George Stephanopoulos, that's her name too, and it turns out we're related however distantly to the diminutive newsman.

In terms of being embarrassed by my heritage, this morning I saw a stupid ass speeding in his SUV, talking on the cellphone of course; not really a news flash, but what made it, oh, somehow sadder and more comical at the same time, I saw the guy's license plate: 1BDGRK. In other words, ONE BAD GREEK. Yeesh! You realize we're sharing the planet with these people. I think his next license plate should read PATHETICDUMBASS.

Speaking of pathetic, I saw a girl with a tatoo on her shoulder with the words RICHIE and SAMBORA surrounding a star. See Above for her next tatoo.

The topper of the day comes from a vendor I saw on Canal Street. This guy is putting out his merchandise this morning, wheeling out a rack of tee-shirts. One of them, probably his biggest seller in this modern age of vulgarity, reads: FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK! I couldn't keep my mouth shut, so I said, "C'mon! You gotta sell a shirt like that?" I didn't wait for an answer, just kept on walking.

I recently saw a young girl with a tee-shirt carrying the pithy slogan: I FUCKED YOUR BOYFRIEND. That's it, simple and to the point. Great parenting out there, folks. This is an age when vulgarity passes for comedy. I guess that's why I like The Simpsons, but find South Park totally unfunny and depressing.

So the lesson for today is, I don't want your pity, but if you feel the need to proffer it, I will begrudgingly accept.

About Time

Sitting here at local library in midst of heat wave. Haven't put in my AC at home yet. Wanted to wait until July, or at least until I gainfully reached real fulltime employment. I have to report that my hopes are high based on an interview I had last Friday at the Hotel Wales, a posh upper east side hotel. They're looking for what's called a night auditor, for the hours 11pm to 7am, slightly offpeak, no? but right up my alley because it would allow me to still do my freelance proofreading as well as the catering gigs that I've become so famous for when that deal picks up again after the summer. The night auditor basically goes over the books for that day; I talked to my friend Paul and he had the exact same gig years ago and called it a proverbial piece of cake, altho the hours take some getting used to, obviously. I thought I really hit it off with Robert, the guy who interviewed me. He said he had one more interview and then would call and make me an offer, his words, but I would accept any reasonable offer considering the plethora of benefits he outlined. It would be sweet to report some good news for a change. Amen.
Moments ago got a call from Artisan, bless their pointed little heads. My presence is requested by the boys and girls at Select down at Varick for tomorrow, where my proofreading expertise is needed. Also got a call from Artisan last week regarding a possible freelance assigntment at Lifetime Television. The key is to get several accounts going so that I'm always busy and there are no long periods between assignments.
I won't dwell on the negative here but my finances are in a state of serious disrepair. It was good to get the Select call for tomorrow, but I am behind in a big way and thus on the precipice of despair. I have to stay mentally strong because no one will save me but me at this point. Oh yeah, feel free to send large sums of cash to me, consider it patronage if it makes you feel any better. Well, my time is up. Even time has a price these days.

Captain's Pay

Okay, here goes. Had two parties the last two nights. Last night I was the sole bartender, indeed sole catering staff, at some alumni meeting where a bunch of privileged 18-year-olds were heading off to the old folks home at the college. That's a Dylan reference that probably only my brother will get. I stood behind the bar for about two and a half hours while listening to these kids' parents and former teachers tell these kids how special they were. Maybe they are, who knows? Anyway, I more or less got captain's pay for setting up a bar, pouring water & soda, and then breaking down said party. Relative piece of cake, but it's very boring when you're the only person on the business end of a catering event. No complaints here though. Who would listen? That's a Goodfellas reference that only my friend Paul Scarsella down in Florida is likely to get. I did get to go home with about a dozen spinach pies and slightly more chocolate chip cookies. It's the little things, people, the little things.

Night before was a cocktail par-tay for around 200 lost souls, aren't we all, celebrating a teacher or two retiring. I've seen enuf of the private school culture to know what bullshit underlies the whole mythos, and remember I went to a private high school, albeit a West Side school and therefore not one as snobbish as your typical East Side school, fresh from 9 years of public school -- talk about your culture shock. So let's say some righteous bitterness remains just below the surface. Anyway, we had 12 people on staff for that party -- me, Theo, Isiah, Wendy, Mike, Dean, some crazy Israeli guy whose name I can never remember. The time goes quicker when you can commiserate and bust each other's chops.

I sit here a-bloggin' from the Internet cafe, where as you know time is money. I tried the friggin' library but of course the computers are down. But I felt a strong urge to blog, so here I am.

You know what I hate: people who say so-and-so really gets me, as if they're so fucking deep and mysterious. You hear this kind of crap on dating shows, as well as in real life. The truth is they're usually totally mainstream and bereft of originality, and like most people are clone-like in their behavior, speech, attitudes and sensibilities.

You know which quote is helpful to remember when you're in any kind of service business: Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent. Noel Coward said that. That's really all I know about Noel Coward. But that's enuf for now.

You know what never made sense to me: When you hear a news report about armed gunmen. I mean, aren't all gunmen armed? Do you have to add armed? Are there a bunch of unarmed gunmen walking around? Are you always a gunman even if you leave your weapon at home that day? Are there business cards made up that say Jeff Conroy, Gunman? Just thought I'd ask.

Did anyone see the cover of the recent New York magazine about how New York real estate is gonna look in 10 years? Now, I only read the thing when I'm in a doctor's waiting room, but I'm convinced New York's whole raison d'etre is to make people feel inferior, because everything between its covers is a celebration of the rich, famous & young, no matter how they got that way or how shallow they are. But I think a new low was set with this issue. Is this the kind of city we want, nothing but endless glass skyscrapers and high rises, like something out of a science fiction novel? I was disgusted. There, I said it.

I thought a great metonym for the age we live in is that Ashlee Simpson, convicted lip syncher and general mediocrity, has an album called I AM ME -- and the fucking album is totally written by someone else!! Imagine the insight these songs must contain! Yes, the singer-songwriter confessional genre has come a long way since James Taylor and Joni Mitchell. I guess every generation gets the entertainment it deserves.

I saw where Charlie Rose was really sick, near death even. I say this only to note that the guest hosts were dreadful while he was away, as were the choice of guests. I tuned in once to see the show hosted by some sychophant from Entertainment Weekly, a truly awful abomination of a periodical that gives a critical free pass to most of the crap that passes for pop culture these days. Another night I think it was hosted by Peter Travers, a dweebish sort who writes for Rolling Stone. Does anyone even read Rolling Stone anymore, and if so, why? It's like People magazine now. Look at the advertisement for the latest multiplex overhyped formula movie and you're sure to see his name next to a breathless recommendation of it.

Remember, a sunshower is just God having a happy cry. I'll leave you with that because my Internet meter is at 33:34 and I only wanted to spend a dollar. Fuck. I hope you all appreciate what I'm doing for you here.

Warm Up The Virgins

I'm back at the Internet cafe today. Tried the library today but there was a long wait for a free machine. Had an argument with some woman there who tried to cut ahead of me. She sees me standing there and tries to talk to the librarian. I said I was next and she said she didn't see me, but I don't play that, so I asked her if I was invisible and she says I guess so. I said something back and she comes back with, your mother would be proud of you. I'm not making this up. First of all, my mother would be the first to stick up for herself if someone tried to treat her rudely, so wherever she is looking down on me today, I'm sure she wishes I had given twice as much back.
I'm on my way to a gig tonite, have no idea if it's an easy or difficult one. You know I'm hoping for something easy, but if it goes longer than 5 hours I get more money, obviously, and since my rent is due Thursday, I need all the help I can get. But as usual I am dreading the whole deal. It's a beautiful day today, with something called the Sun out, which we haven't been seeing a lot of lately.
Was in the laundromat the other day and someone had left a New York Post there. It was the day after we killed Zarqawi, and on the cover was his bloated, beat up face, with a balloon caption coming out of his mouth. "Warm Up The Virgins" it said. Inside the running story was called "Rest In Pieces." This is the kind of grown up commentary you can expect from a garbage right wing rag. I would never buy it, even tho it cost a quarter. Now you see why.
Well, gotta go. Wish me luck.

Post Double Shift Friday

Decided to try the local library for internet service since, a, you'll remember i have no home online capacity at the moment; and b, it's free, and thus cheaper than the local internet cafe, which by the way has been a waste of time the last few times i tried to use it. You get a half hour here, you just have to sign up. The guy on computer 5 didn't wanna leave just now! I made a comment about how he must be special, loud enuf for him and everyone else to hear. Now he's moving! I must have my internet access, youdig? Only problem is the library here in Astoria is closed, at least the one nearest to me. Isn't that great, to live in the richest city in the world and the fuckin library is closed on Saturday & Sunday. It's a workers' paradise I tell you. No library, but thousands of overpriced little cafes and boutiques and spas... that's where our priorities are in this meaning-bereft society. Anyway...

Worked a double shift last night, so I'm dragging a little today. Wanted to sleep a little later this morning, but helicopters hovering all morning, seemingly outside my bedroom window, made more zzz's implausible. We did a teachers luncheon at one school from 9:30 to 2:30, and then a retirement dinner at another school from 3:30 to 9:30 -- 11 hours or so of work. We did eat good, though, when it came time to break. I was passing appetizers at the beginning of the second gig, so i made sure to sample each and every one. The second one was much harder than the first, as dinners are typically more work than your average luncheon. Three of us worked both parties, so there was a lot of fucking around during the last few hours, in between busting your ass breaking down the party so you can get the hell out of there at a decent hour.
Have 3 days off and then I'm working Monday & Tuesday. But then it slows down considerably from what I'm told. I am trying to get on a summer party list, work the Hamptons or something. I received two major recommendations in the last week or so for what that's worth, some woman named Regina i think who runs another catering company. We will see. Haven't worked a proofreading gig in a week, which really sucks. I have to get the job search in high gear pronto, but for whatever reason I've hit a mental roadblock.

Returning a book I just finished called Oh What A Slaughter -- Massacres In The American West: 1846-1890, by Larry McMurtry; yes, that Larry McMurtry, author of Lonesome Dove, among many other books, and of course the screenplay for Brokeback Mountain, as well as the dad of criminally underrated folk rock troubadour James McMurtry. It doesn't cover Little Bighorn, only those "skirmishes" where under 200 folks died. Here's how he describes massacre: "The image of a meat shop seems apt to me, since what massacres usually do is reduce human beings to the condition of meat, though the bits of meat will be less tidily arranged than the cuts would normally be in a decent butcher shop." In addition to well known ones like the Fetterman Massacre, there's the story of a Mormon-led raid on white settlers in Utah. Someone is hovering over my shoulder now and my time is up, so let me post this sucker and continue from the internet cafe later... I have 5 minutes so I wanna quote from an eyewitness to the Fetterman massacre on what brutality the Indians wrought that day: "Eyes were torn out and laid on rocks; noses cut off; ears cut off; chins hewn off; teeth chopped out; joints of fingers, brains taken out and placed on rocks with other members of the body; entrails taken out and exposed..." and you get the idea. Myself personally, i always root for the Indians, since you can make the case that no matter how brutal an Indian attack, in some manner it can ultimately be justified as self defense. Outta here!

Little Blue Pills, Little White Pills & Smoking At Pravda

Well, the easy catering gig I was hoping for on Saturday night was not to be. Instead, it turned out to be a bitch; as much of a snap as Friday's affair had been, that's how difficult this one turned out to be. There were no elevators, so everything had to be taken up multiple flights of stairs -- plates, racks of glasses, bins of silverware, trays of food, ice... you name it. It was a sit down dinner for about 180, buffet style, plus smaller cocktail parties on two other floors. The logistics were daunting, to say the least. But we had a real good crew, including myself, Sarabelle, Theo, Isiah, Dean, Daniel and Jean as the captain. We earned our money that night. But the harder you work, and the more there is to do, the more you bond with the rest of the staff.

After work a few of us went out for drinks. Jean had a few, how shall we say, little blue and white pills that go a long way toward relieving any aches or pains you might have, if you get my drift, someone had a joint, and by the time the Stellas were going down, we were feeling no pain. Jean even said I've come a long way and would have no problem recommending me for other gigs, unlike a few months ago, when I was a disaster, even if he didn't use that word. So that made me feel pretty good. However, the season is winding down, at least for the school events, so I have to hook up with something for the summer. Me and Tony ended up at Pravda, where on the second floor you can smoke with total impunity, I have no idea why, but it's a nice little secret. Plus the drinks are made good and strong. By the time I stumbled home it was 5:30 am.

I have two parties this week, in fact they're on the same day, Thursday, plus two more next week, Monday & Tuesday, and that's it as far as I know. I hope the proofreading jobs come through; I'm gonna need at least two a week this month. I have about four parties set up thru early next week. I need dough like anyone.

Lucky Dime

Funny thing. I had just finished up at the Internet cafe on Thursday, checking my email, editing my blog, when I found a dime in the street. A lucky dime, because like a minute later my cell phone rings and it's my freelance agency. First I thought they were gonna need me on Friday, because it was already 3:30 in the afternoon, but I had a catering gig Friday afternoon, and I was figuring there's my bad timing again! But it turns out that S.C. needed me that very day, as soon as I could make it down. So I made it downtown by 4:40. I guess I'm an in-demand player. The only downside was missing The Office marathon that night, which I was really looking forward to. Oh well. I stayed till almost 9:00, proofing a few press releases, catalogs and style guides. The word jewelry was spelled wrong throughout the press releases. I caught a myriad of mistakes and pointed them out to the proper authorities, justifying my rather lucrative rate of 25 an hour. About an hour before my shift was over, I watched an incredible lightning storm forming from the 11th floor loft window, then the rain started coming down in biblical proportions. Before I left, I asked Jonathan if there was an umbrella I could borrow. He found one on someone's desk, a really nice one. The only umbrella I ever had that I could say I liked I lost about a week after I got it. That was like 20 years ago. I honestly don't think I bought one since. You can't overestimate the power of A Really Good Umbrella; somehow you don't mind if it rains a little if you can whip one out. An umbrella, I mean.

Did a catering gig last night on the upper east, worked with one other caterer, Linda, who I found out was a big Lucinda Williams fan after I heard her singing 2 Kool 2B Forgotten in the elevator. We made a bet on how many people would show up from a maximum guest list of 20 alumni and put 5 bucks in a pool; I said 13, Raul 14 and Linda 11. I was actually gonna revise upward at the last minute to 16, because I thought the heavy rain would keep more people away, but I stuck with 13. 15 showed up. I ate good anyway: a ton of appetizers: jerk chicken on a plantain, filet mignon with mango chutne on a cucumber slice, etc. Turned out to be another easy gig: passing trays, pouring drinks, badabing badaboom.

Have another catering downtown tonite, on Varick Street near the ad agency where I worked the other day. Hoping for something not too taxing. Gotta check my email now. More at 11.
One other thing. Not that he's ever gonna read my blog, Who Does After All, but I may have been a little harsh on N. in my last post, titled Human Downers for your convenience. I meant every word I said, but maybe picking on his enormous pot belly and know it all manner was slightly over the top. Maybe belittling someone else's physical shortcomings says more about me than him. Maybe it is a character flaw on my part. Well, I never said I was perfect. Now go home & get your Fucking Shinebox!

Human Downers

Ran into an old "friend" from the Transcript today, N., after picking up my check from A. Took the 101 bus over the 59th Bridge, and walked from East 58th down to West 20th. Well, N. really managed to piss me off in the space of about 5 minutes. It was just his condescending tone, which I'm actually used to by now. Everyone wants to give advice, nobody wants to help, you dig? Well, this guy took it a step further, dispensing useless borderline insulting crap disguised as advice, in his know it all way. This is a guy who really got my hopes up back in, oh, January or February. He works for a big publishing company, and if he didn't promise me a job, he did say things looked good, why didn't you call me sooner, yada yada yada. Now I run into him and he's telling me I should have health coverage, I should have a better resume, I should invest in a good suit, I should go to the Lynne Palmer agency, I should take a job in the mailroom, I should go on monster.com, I should dress better -- should should should.

Okay, last off, I was picking up my check today, I wasn't going on an interview, so corduroys and a short-sleeve button-down shirt and Rockports are fucking wholly appropriate: take the shit out of your ears, asshole. Excuse me, I wasn't aware of your keen perspicacity into all matters sartorial and your insight into our changing social mores. I guess I should ignore your rather large stomach overhanging your untucked, disheveled looking blue polo shirt. Good thing I ran into you, man, otherwise I would show up to my next job interview in fucking overalls and a straw hat. I should really be writing down your every word. Next, I used to write resumes for a living, you child you. And am I so isolated that you feel the need to tell me about something like monster.com nine months into my job search.

As for the suits, yes, I wish I had a fucking thousand-dollar suit, but as it goes I have two suits from Moe Ginsburg, one of them a Jones New York, you fairy you. And no, I cannot afford Cobra or any of the other health plans for the poor and underemployed. Should I spend my every waking moment bemoaning that fact; should I seal myself up in my apartment to lessen my exposure to germs? That guy really pissed me off. Obviously. To think he's a Cowboy fan. But the totally negative kind of fan who can never enjoy the team.

(I just lost part of this fucking post, the brilliant part.)

Since losing my job I've discovered there are two kinds of people, those who try to make you feel better when you're down, and those who somehow make you feel worse. Some people are just like human tuinals, as Lou Reed so aptly put it in New Sensations.

In other news, I worked a catering gig last night, a cocktail party for about 250 people. Someone was retiring from the school. We had a staff of around 15, and it went quickly. I have 3 or 4 gigs lined up thru next week, which is good. I also found out that S.C. has been calling for my services repeatedly, but the agency has not been able to match me up. Bad timing can be a bitch.

The Pink Lemonade Blues

Let's go over the week that was, shall we. Last Monday all I knew was that night I had a cocktail party. The rest of the week was wide open, read: I had nothing scheduled. Monday night turned out to be an easy gig, about 20 elderly women sitting around a big conference table. I was dressed up as usual in my monkey suit -- white shirt, black pants, black tie and vest. At the end of the night the woman who was running the meeting walked over to me and handed me some cash, which I stuffed in my pocket without looking while saying thanks. Turned out to be 25 bucks, which always comes in handy.

Raul, who is the head chef at the school where the gig was held and who basically runs all the catering events there, asked me if I could work Thursday night and, possibly, Wednesday morning. Of course, of course, I said, just give me the details. Oh, one other thing: before I left for the Monday night gig, I got a call from Artisan asking me whether I could work that day for Select; they needed a proofreader. I said I was available Tuesday but was already on my way to another commitment. I never heard back from them, which sucks. Anyway, it turned out that Raul did need me for Wednesday, 8 in the morning, a graduation ceremony on the West Side. Basically we set up tables with appetizers & cookies & such, along with iced tea & lemonade. Each iced tea had a mint leaf in it, each glass of pink lemonade had a slice of lemon in it. That didn't stop around 20 supposedly intelligent people from asking which was which! First, have you ever seen pink iced tea? Didn't the floating lemon slice give you a hint?

Thursday night was another cocktail party. We expected around 15 people, four showed up. So I sat behind my makeshift bar for around 2 1/2 hours while the four guests chatted away. You really can't call four people sitting around a party, just as you wouldn't call two old men ambling down the street a parade. But I made 400 bucks for the three gigs, plus a 25-dollar gratuity. Not bad, not bad.

Wednesday afternoon got another call from my agency: C.B. was requesting my expertise for Friday; the wall calendar needed one last going over. It turned out to be only 5 hours of work, but at least it's another paycheck. Paid off my Con Ed bill, along with the phone. Unfortunately, just as I was catching up, it turned out I needed some medication: 20 bucks for antibiotics, 80 bucks for a cream. So there goes 100 bucks which I could have put toward the rent. It's always something, my friends.

The only thing on the horizon is a catering gig on Tuesday night. Hopefully this week will be as busy as last week; I worked 4 out of 5 days and it could have been 5 with a little luck. In fact, for this month so far, out of a possible 20 work days, I worked 11 days (counting one Saturday job), which isn't bad for a freelancer.

The Zoo Crew Review

Okay, let's get right into it. The place, the Internet Cafe, where I sit blogging while shooting glances at the ridiculously attractive Greek girl who manages the place. I called her over once before because I was having trouble with the disk in my hard drive if you will -- nudge nudge, wink wink. But seriously. I was last here a-blogging on Tuesday, and seconds before my 30 minutes were up here at the cafe, at around 12:30, I got a call from my agency saying I was needed that very afternoon at S. Communications, you know, that ad agency down on Varick, could I be there by 2:30? Fuck yeah, I said, paraphrasing slightly, because at 25 beans an hour I am so there, as this generation is all too wont to say. Not my generation, your generation. So that was a four-hour gig and they said they'd need me back there soon for some other catalogs. But so far I no hear from them. I wait with baited breath. I edited a fashion catalog and immediately found three words egregiously misspelled: medaillion, ostritch and incrusted. Earned my money right there!

Speaking of attractive girls, that place is chock full of attractive people. Even the gay guys there are attractive, and I am secure enuf in my staunch hetero role to say that. I mean, sometimes I wish I was gay, or at least bi, because you can double your choices that way and, if the stars are right, you can also double your wardrobe. Hello? Is this mic on?

I don't think I mentioned, for the benefit of the 3 or so people who read this blog, that last Friday I worked at C.B. again, but it looks like that was the end of the project. Their latest calendar 2007 stylee has been published by the time you read this, and that was what I worked on for, oh, about 7 or 8 different days. So if you find anything wrong, I have to take at least partial blame. Oh the humanity! I hope they call me back for some other project. We shall see what we shall see, as my old 11th grade English teacher Sy Syna used to say, a man who defined eccentricity.

The catering front has also been active this week. On Wednesday I reported to an elite, overexpensive upper east side private learning academy for some sort of cocktail party. When I arrived I was surprised to hear that basically I was the staff for that night. It turned out to be me and Luis, but there were only around 60 people, but that didn't stop me from asking for captain's pay, half-jokingly, but only half. The captain basically gets double what everyone else gets. so if you make 20 an hour as a regular staff member, captains get 30 or 40... There was a small bar, with wine and soft drinks, and then we passed out appetizers, blah blah. the easiest party I worked by far. but I had to be back at the same school the next morning at 8 am yesterday for some kind of brunch and then lunch. For some reason I literally could not and did not sleep more than an hour. I kept looking at the alarm -- 1am, 2am, 4am... I think I got an hour in between 4:30 & 5:30, then up at 6 and to the city by 7:30. and I busted my ass too.
It's funny, in the food business the Lingua Franca is Espanol, pure and simple. And it's amazing how much Spanish I retained from the six years I took in school, shit it's gotta be almost 30 years ago now. yesterday the six other people in the kitchen were all Hispanic, and some spoke very little English. But we were all able to communicate. Isn't that special?

Today Friday I am hoping for a last minute call from the Agency sending me back to S.Comm. It's a little after 10 now. Ya never know.

There's a big Astoria reunion being planned for sometime in November. Gat is running the whole show from his estate down in Florida. If you're reading this, my man, I miss you & I look forward to seeing you & the rest of the crew. We were literally like brothers growing up, even called ourselves the Brotherhood, me, Gat, Urb, the Admiral, Trixter, Buddy Bider, Big Mike... We were the Zoo Crew, always Zooing, throwing abuse, going egging, just for the Zoo of it, you understand. Hanging out in the busses, the trailers, the big park, the little park, meeting at Pop's candy store for pinball & egg creams, cruising down AP, breaking day, playing the box game in the hallway on cold nights, pitching quarters, playing stoopball, ace king queen, chipping in for nickel bags and smoking the whole thing in B0bby Lopez's blue Buick Fury, heading off for punk nights in the City in Trixter's black and white Skamobile or Urb's father's green monte, or mike's mother's huge blue stationwagon, doing Ludes or black beauties or mesc or mushrooms to enhance the mood. Meeting at Cheer's to hurl abuse at the Muffler Club, burning the flag on the wall in true punk fashion, living only for the now, wearing our leathers, leather weather, going out to Hurrah's or Danceteria or Heat & dancing & sweating, laughing & living.

Sometimes You Get The Croc, Sometimes The Croc Gets You

I was feeling really down the last few days, as evidenced by my last depressing post. But now I'm a little more optimistic. I have four catering gigs on the horizon in May, and hopefully some proofreading jobs will also show up along the way. Every month is a struggle, every week a fight, every man a king... every dog has his day. Bow wow wow! Things could be worse ... somehow. I could have been eaten by a crocodile, or an alligator like the two unfortunate souls this week. Once in Florida a friend and I sat by a lake and watched for hours and hours as crocodiles staked out a group of flamingoes, our very own nature special. But nothing happened. Maybe the crocs weren't hungry that day.
I would like to ride out the next few months doing whatever catering and proofing gigs come my way, then get a full time job sometime during the summer. There is something to be said for having the summer off: going to the beach, bike riding, etc. The weather around here has been so fucking depressing, no sun for days on end, it can't help but affect your mood.
Well, I sit here again at the local Internet Cafe a-bloggin' and my time is about to run out, or rather I can't afford to sit here for hours on end: time is money, money is time. And dollars make no sense. Something like that. (Boy, this entry has sucked.) I have a million ideas but then I let them pass and the inspiration is no longer there. Peace out...

Black Hole Sun

This has not been a good or productive week. I'm trying to remember that every week is going to be different, but I've worked just once since I last blogged. That's not going to cut the mustard, as they say in the food business. And the worst is that there is nothing concrete on the horizon. If I had something to look forward to I could fool myself into thinking things are not that bad. But with nothing at all penciled in, that makes it tough. I applied to a few jobs earlier this week. No Reply, as John Lennon used to sing. This is getting played out. I am losing momentum like an old steam engine at the end of its day. Why is it so hard? I basically have this month's rent put away, and then it all begins again. The bill collectors are amassing at the proverbial door. I have medical situations I can't afford to address, which are likely to worsen without attention. I need a break, and soon.
Boy, this is depressing. If anyone has anything positive to contribute here, I'm all ears and eyes. How about a pep talk telling me things aren't so bad. I await your help. Even my famed sense of black humor has forsaken me today.

Welcome To The Working Week. I Know It Don't Thrill You, I Hope It Don't Kill You...

Coming at you live from the Internet Cafe in the Ditmars Train Station in downtown Astoria, Nueva York, if you wanna know the truth of it all. My home internet connection is in limbo for now, so I blog among what passes for the people.
Whence last we had the time/motivation to write, I had been bemoaning the lack of jobs coming up, dreading a dry spell. Now I am again bemoaning the same thing, only a week later, and after a spurt of activity. To wit...

On Wednesday last, I got a call from the agency informing me that S. Communications, the fashion catalog people, needed me that very day, could I make it, etc. Hells yeah, so I showed up at the prescribed time to their office on Varick Street, went over a few high end jewelry ads & catalogs, a real piece of cake. I met with someone who claimed to be the copy chief, and i had no reason to doubt her, and she said she was glad "they" finally got a proofreader. from talking to her it seemed like she'd be inclined to use me in the future. I've been back there 3 or 4 times so far.

Friday I went back to C.B. to peruse & proof the same desk and wall calendar that I've grown so familiar with, it's the same questions & I've been there like 5 or 6 times. but i have no problem with that. They want me back again late next week to go over the wall calendar one more time as that is very very close to publication. I felt out C. re future work there after this project, very subtly because the agency would likely frown on anything more ... I don't know, pushy. anyway, she said she's very happy with my work and would consider it. I can't remember the precise tone or direction of the conversation right now. so i worked at the old college board from 9:30 in the morning till about 6:15. Then I had a catering gig that same night, so I hoofed it from 61st & Broadway, thru Central Park at 79th Street, then uptown along Fifth to 98th street, where the party for 900 was under way at the school. all the rest of the suckers, er staff, were there from 10:00 that fucking morning! To top it all off, it was a Roman themed party, so when I got there at around 7:00, I had to put on my toga or tunic or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be and proceed to mix in and see what needed to be done.

In short order I was sent to the 7th floor to bus drinks. the 7th floor was the gymnasium turned into a game room for what seemed like hundreds of screaming preppy kids running around and hitting each other with plastic swords. I really just stood there for long periods of time chilling. at one point I thought I saw someone who looked like Cynthia McFadden, the newscaster who is now hosting Nightline. I always really liked her from when she was on Court TV, very pretty with a great sexy voice. So around the third time she passed by I was sure it was her, and I found myself strolling over to her in my white roman thing-ey saying, you guessed it, Is your name Cynthia? Cynthia McFadden? She admitted it and I told her I was not only a big fan, but that I was also in the news business. her husband or whoever was there and I think they both asked where, and I lamely said Wall Street Transcript, then started blubbering about being a freelance proofreader. Turns out her kid goes to the school, so if I see her again I will slip her my resume. That is known as networking, my friends. I made a point of watching my colleague last night on Nightline. I think she's got a future in this little game we call the news business.

I earned my money that night breaking down the party, to use another catering term. Of course, if my boss reads this he may not think I earned it at all. Life is funny like that.

Saturday a wonderful and unexpected thing happened. In that day's mail I noticed what looked like a check peaking out from the window of an envelope with my name on it. And what's more it looked suspiciously like an IRS communique. Of course, I was not expecting anything this year. Au contraire! I am still paying off one of the branches of the IRS from last year or the year before, state or federal, I can't remember. Also, I didn't have taxes taken out of unemployment, something like 7 or 8,ooo fazooms over the 26 weeks. My brother, who did my taxes, told me I owed again. Anyway, to make a long story slightly less tedious, lo & behold I open up the friggin' envelope and it's a refund check for 508 dollars! Oh reader, can you imagine the blessed state of mind this surprise instilled in me. Methinks you can't, but suffice to say it was a big kick in the ass, if that could somehow be considered a good thing.

Monday it was back at the C.B. to finish proofing the desk calendar. Making sure all the questions and answers match, that the answer to yesterday's question is indeed D, or C, whatever the case may be. C. wanted me to spend time researching all the holidays, to determine when Yom Kippur begins and ends, the first day of spring, summer, etc., National Teacher Day. We needed to know whether it's April Fool's Day or April Fools' Day. Stuff like that. Tedious to some, but it's the kind of thing we proofreaders sink our teeth into. Otherwise you're in the wrong biz. KnowhatImean?

Tuesday, another catering gig. this one started at 2:30, lasted till 8:30. It was kind of like a buffet, but with kids and adults, there were around 2oo people, maybe more, at one time or another. Among my many duties was to make sure we were well stocked in Orangina, and we went thru about 10 cases of that foul-tasting yellow liquid with the distinctive ball-shaped bottle. Mainly I bussed glasses and plates and bottles after the folks were done, with the added obstacle of dozens of kids running around throwing stuff while we wait staff weaved in and out of the cute little darlings trying not to spill or drop trays full of stuff. Mission accomplished.

Right now I know I go back to C.B. next week, but with very little else concrete on the horizon. That's not a good feeling. Hopefully that will change in short order. Forthwith, as the kids used to say in medieval days. I guess I can always call my good friend Cynthia. Cynthia McFadden? How soon we forget.