Saturday, August 22, 2015

Twenty fifteen

Hi there.

It's me again.

I never really went anywhere, just been sleeping a lot lately. But it's been okay.

But something tells me it might be time to wake up again. You know, I woke up last night and the winds were blowing - they were warm and sweet. But they were pushing on me. All those little air molecules saying "Hey, You" umm, sorry to interrupt your reverie here, but things might change,

I've known this for a while... There's an awkwardness about me being here.

It started when my house sold... one day I signed a bunch of papers, and got a bank check for more money than I've ever seen in one place... but only a hint of an idea where that next place would be. It was with my friend Paul, and he helped me move in, and he and his wife Dee are the sweetest and most gracious people ever. I was to inhabit the downstairs, and keep an eye on stuff for them, in exchange for $1000 per month - discounted based on how much work I did for them. Mostly, taking care of the dogs and the plants. And making sure ISIS doesn't invade the home rape the furniture, and plant a flag in the front lawn before torching the place.

Okay, so I had that figured out.

But as I knew would happen... there are forces calling me farther away. Specifically, Piscataway.

I don't know if you heard that properly... I used a daffy duck lisp. And you know what's really funny?
It's true.

I have a couple job offers in Piscataway, rent is less expensive there, and there are lots of tech companies Hiring in the area.

I also know that there will come a time when I need to leave this place. I'm not a permanent resident here, I'm being done a favor, but life goes on, and neither Paul nor Dee Nor I, know where things are supposed to end up. I've been saying I want to live in Brooklyn, but unless I took my car, and tent and camped out in Prospect Park... yeah, actually a tempting idea. I do lots of camping - But that's not a solution.

A solution  is getting a long contract gig, with a company that has definite plans, places and ways of profiting like a damn ferrungue with the idea... and yeah, I want on that train. Not the L train to Greenpoint with faded hipsters, but some startup company where they have cats to piss away.

There's one other thing and it's something I so totally get. Paul has two daughters. Alana, the younger one, visits a lot, I think she camps out in her Mom's room ( Mom is on vacation ), and we are friendly. I pretty much stay out of her way, leave her alone to her friends and let her know if I found mail in the mailbox for her.

The other girl, named Zoe, doesn't know me. And I get the impression that she's a bit disappointed about my rather sudden move in here. I was actually given her room to move into, not the 'unfinished' one. But there was like all her stuff there, and it totally creeped me out that I was moving into some teenage girls bedroom, so I didn't move in. I watched the TV in there a bit, set my computer stuff up next to the washer/dryer, set up the grill outside to cook food with, and took the room that was packed with a bit of jumk, but has wires hanging from holes in the wall because it's not 'guest ready'

And I'm seriously good with that, it's a little piece of heaven my friends have here, and they are allowing me a cloud to dance upon, while I figure one which new version of my corporeal being to inhabit!

But Paul mentioned that his daughter Zoe might want to come back ( as Alana has ) and like I said, she's weirded out by my presence. I had the same reaction to some housekeepers who were told to clean house and babysit me when I was young. UGGH. Those big old ugly strange women!!! And yeah, I'm a guy. Even weirder, grosser. WHAT IS THIS PERSON DOING IN OUR HOUSE!? Now if I was a daddy, I'd do the right thing by my spawn.

Okay, so I had a moment with their mom, Dee, who I totally respect and hope will always be my rock and roll soulmate! I was in Zoe's bedroom, and feeling uncomfortable, and she walked in and started talking to me, and when the appropriate topic came around I told her - Dee, Zoe's mom - that I feel uncomfortable taking this room over. If I was your daughter, you know, honestly? I'd feel a bit violated! I don't want this room. Your daughter is way more important to you now than me, and I recognize that.

At which point I got a big hug, and a few little tears of relief from Dee. One love.

Now. almost six months in, I still love this couple, and they kinda love me, I want to go strolling around the east village with them and shop for hatbands or shout physics equasions to the hookers, or just walk into a shop and say "My Hovercraft is Full of Eels" just to see who laughs first.

Can I do that in Piscataway? Do they have diners? Or tech traps. Which - is why, afterall - I left Natasha, and let her take all her cats. Even, my favorite cat.  The one that my dear favorite dog is letting eat his dinner.

More about Jacque ( the dog ) later.

I have to find a place to stay, even if it's in Piscataway, I didn't want that fate for a cat, so I pissed that little cat-a-way.

But I can't, can't explain the pain of having to say good bye to a friend, and that cat was the last thing that kept me sane,

Okay, rambling. Years later. I must move on. I'm being awkward by not moving along with the rest of the lemmings, you know, doing the right thing, abiding by the rules, and always moving forward to accomplish your goals and be a productive member of society.

What happened was, this summer I'm on vacation. I do what I want to do, what I feel like doing, and help a few other people do what THEY want to do too. It is coming to a close, and I have a few more festivals to go, but I need to plan for the winter. No more grasshopper.

When I moved in here at the end of the winter, it was cold. The basement ( where I now stay ) got flooded. I tried to help shed water off the part of the lawn attached to the front of the house that was letting all that water in, by putting a big plastic sheet over the foundation, and drip-area. So the flooding wouldn't happen.

It took a few weeks for my plan to sink in that it might help.

But I never got the go ahead, and didn't want to offend my friends by taking charge of that. I think that the politics go to a very viceral place in Paul, where Dee would say, hey, Leland did that, why couldn't you?

And I do NOT want to get into that conversation.

And I don't have to either. Just move on. Find where I pissed that cat away, pick it up and say hey, I missed you little boo.

It's tl;dr,



It;s tr

Friday, January 30, 2015

THIS IS A TRUE STORY. 

It happened JanuFairary 25 2014 through January 29th

while visiting a friend in MidTown Manhattan

Crazy Suzy

On Sunday Night Suzan called, an we chatted, it was very pleasant. She was speaking slow and calm and taking breaks which meant she was puffing on her crack pipe. So whatever, I was hoping she was done with that but was not too surprised. She also casually mentioned that she wants to update and add to her website, because I'd threatened to take it down a month ago if she doesn't start paying the $10 per month server fee.

Anyway, we've been talking a bit and it hasn't been unpleasant and when she says stupid things I just take it for granted that she is, after-all, stupid.

Sunday Night our conversation got really cutsie, and being a tad drunk myself, she BEGGED me to come see her. NOW. Put you Pants on NOW!
“should I stick my weenie back in”
“YES, take your weenie with you”
“I'll even zip up”
“I'm telling you, just DO it.”
“Sneakers going on now”
I cracked up, maybe she got it maybe she didn't. Older people don't always get brand awareness jokes.

Got in the car and drove there without a hitch, parked on the curb, and she was right, lots of spaces!
So throughout the evening we were having fun chatting and catching up, she showed me a pile of cluttered papers she wanted to do something, and I explained I'd have to bring my scanner in for some of this, we discussed the Warhol Archives she has, and that she wanted originally to sell high quality reprints of them. I leafed through some stuff but it was not the time to work, so I just put them down and said we'd take a look at them tomorrow.

A few times she got on the phone, but not indicating it was a dealer, no names like usual, no frantic 'Where the fuck are you? GET OVER HERE!!!' kind of talk. But I figured she might have someone coming. Anyway, I was tired and she said well, go to bed then. We kept on talking while I was in bed , full knowing she probably wouldn't be there for a while, and I wouldn't sleep or a while.

But I could tell she was doing lots of crack, I could hear the little tingle of small rocks in her ashtray, and sometimes a scraping. Asked me if I had a razor blade earlier, but no, I did not, this time.

She didn't offer me any and I didn't ask for it. Didn't want this to turn into an all niter for both of us. Figured, I'm drunk and happy, I'll go to sleep no matter what she does. She comes back in some hour later.
“You don't know what I've just done.” 
“What?”
“You don't want to know”
“It's gonna do... something.... that... that.. if you were say, isolated..or with the, right form of character and intention it would be, no wait it would...... be .. they would kill me and I would die”

So she went on like this for a while. We cuddled a bit. But damn she was chain smoking. Not very attractive. And really didn't seem interested in me. But then whatever. Then she was interested in me, what am I doing, she talked about Natasha, she talked about other stuff and I put the news on because it was far more interesting to watch people actually kill each other. Then we heard it.

The largest blizzard in the History of New York City! No Kidding. This. Is. It. We marveled at that for a while. She got scared, and started pantomiming scary crying, I never know if she's serious or not. Then - and I have no idea how the weather got her to this place again - she went into her "I'm sick. I'm gonna die. I'm ugly, my life is over. Don't be surprised if you find me on the sidewalk tomorrow when you get up to make my goddamn eggs on my goddamn toast. Eat them all, I won't be here. And she cried again .NOBODY LOVES ME, NOBODY CARES."
“ I care.. I love your eg-”
“NO YOU DON'T!! I KNOW IT... YOU KNOW IT. You just want to come over here and fuck me like every other dirty old man. Don't laugh, it's NOT FUNNY. You never cared. Not one bit. You know it and I know it.
"But sweetie, we don't fuck. That's now much I care about you as a friend"
You're LYING!
Okay, this goes on for a while, again, and I try not to smile. Because I know it will end soon, and she'll be serious and nice with me again in about an hour.

The dire news of the impending killer blizzard continues.
“You can't go tomorrow, not in that weather”
Oh goodie, sanity again.

Obviously I had not planned on staying, had no toothbrush, one pair of underwear, a nice shirt, nice jacket. And my fancy jeans. That's all. Not staying. But oh what the heck, I had nothing better to do. Figured it might be fun to stay inside while the world writhed in it's last dying sight of any summer ever to come again, and we played with each other. Throughout the night she'd ask me for updates. The TV was off, and I'd pretend to know, and then pretend to not know, you know, just to mix it up.

Now the next day, Tuesday, there was really not much of the snowblind we were led to expect. It was very tame. I took her ShiTsu for a walk. As I was out there I got out of breath. And getting a bit dizzy. When I got back I knew I had to lie down. I was detoxing, a day and a half after the fact, and shaking uncontrollably unless flat in bed. She handed me a glass of juice and I almost shook the liquid out of it. I was sweaty, my eyes popping, I could barely walk, I was getting vertigo if I turned my head or tried to stand up.

She repeatedly asked me with sincere concern if I wanted to go the hospital, almost insisting that I do. I told her, as sanely and calmly as possible, It's okay SuzyWoozy, I'll be okay, this happens sometimes and believe me, it looks much worse than it feels. Heck, I could do this all day, and in fact, I think I will!

It felt horrible. 

This is a new phenomenon for me, happened only three times before. And after a painful sweat stench, all sticking to everything, the uncomfortable dizzy would gradually ease off and though wobbly I could finally make it to the bathroom. When I feel these things coming on I usually fill as large a jug as I can find with water, or Gatoraide. ( I like the blue flavor). Gonna be a long wet night. Can't dehydrate! Alka Seltzer, an ibuprofen or two, and some fruits to keep my stomach doing something, anything. After a while it passes. Drink too much water and I throw up the  water, apples, Ibuprofen, and aspirin if I thought to take it. Then I feel MUCH better. Still the vertigo, won't let me roll over fast without that sick nauseating feeling. Not 'oh the room is spinning' but gravity seems to pull in EVERY direction and there is no focus, and the brain feels like a sponge given a slight electric current and it is just loosely sloshing around, while one eyeball literally spins in it's socket, unable to control itself. This is not the 'hangover or I'm Too Drunk spinning, this is from some tiny particle of protien, or calcium break off that found its way into the  inner ear, our place where gravity and angular momentum are determined, and seems to happen whenI drink too much water. It commonly happens to athletes, apparently their head shakes things so much there's a better chance of some particle breaking looks and going in there.  My nose is running, my eyes are constantly tearing, even water gets in my ear and Etruscan canals and makes blowing the nose as squeaky as a mad squirrel. I use lots of  tissues, I throw in a plastic pail. And sometimes I throw up into same plastic pail. It's painless and mostly just water, and when I can walk, I just dump it down the toilet and wash it out.

Only at Suzies, I'm talking to her happily to show her nothing is really that wrong, and in the next beat say "Oh shit... get a big pot, I'm going to throw up”. She runs into the kitchen and just in time comes back with a big searing/stock pot. Works great. For a while, and then it happens all over again. I hold the pot close, it's all very well contained, but she puts towels under it like the dog after a bath. I'm fine, but that's just her. Then it happens again. 20 minutes, we're talking along and ''Oh no.... please...." and again as we are talking. Yeah, this is really disgusting. Humiliating. Want to be over with it already.

After that half day and one night I do get better, we had talked about alcohol and it's effects. She used to be an alcoholic, and swore up and down to Al-Anon. I agreed with her, honestly, not going overboard, but instead just holding her fingers with my bile dripping palm. 

See we usually get into arguments because she likes to nag and insists something trivial needs to be done NOW and I get all bullheaded and raise my voice, - okay this is when we are sober. But I was drunk so I had decided rather than bring out that rage, instead to surprise her though understanding, praise and thanks.

And it was working! We were getting along. She was being sweet and didn't mind having to clean up after me, she explained if you're a parent you've seen that hundreds of times and worse. Yup.

Next morning I'm feeling much better, go to make breakfast. Come back and she's lying in what looks like, and probably is, agony, Fibromyalgia is not a head cold. In a dying whisper she asks me to go to the bodega and get her two Dove bars. "Regular milk chocolate. Not dark"
“I remember, you hate dark”
It had been two years since we'd seen each other, but of course I remember if she likes dark or light chocolate.
"No nuts." 
"Aww, dear, sorry to hear that"
She attempted laughter, pretending instead, the act was making things worse, which the chain smoked cigarettes did even better.

As I got there with her credit card, I realized she's going to want two more as she finishes these, and I asked her, and she replied no.. ONLY two. I think she does this to tease me. Also got some Ginger Ale, as that subject had been brought up when I was sick, it always seems to be crisp burpy, fizzy and a happy tingley tang.

After about a half hour she sends me back out for two more Dove bars. I get some ice cream with it.

I melt the icecream just a little, in the microwave, it's soft-serve, bring it to her with a napkin and plate and she's hanging over forward on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, cigarette dangling dangerously to the already burnt and moonlike pockmarked bedspread. I put the icecream on the table next to her and get into bed and cover up . We never get naked in bed, maybe fool around but the underwear stays in place. Just as well. I don't want to think about it. She is after all, bone skinny, where there used to be plumps there are now wrinkled and sagging blobs....  it's a turn off. But I can close my eyes, reach under the covers , and she's so soft. It's nice to be stroking someone somewhere, lovingly, and have a hand reached for and fingers played with, or toes massaged way up the legs beyond the point of inappropriateness. On a physical level she's smooth and smells nice too, so I just let my eyes play tricks on me, my nose enjoys the coconut and fresh nail polish, an emollient that contains neither oil, grease, or oddly enough, gluten. (it contains chemicals that must not be, indeed, cannot be pronounced), and fresh distilled water. Think about it. Fresh AND distilled. Marketing...huh.She's like a little girl on the beach, not a tired bruised and scarred old half dead thing.

In a half an hour, rubbing her toes, shes directing me around pressure points, and sculpting them into a little person – yeah guys, you know the deal. Whatever she wants or thinks, admit it... it really does make you feel like... blowing chunks. But you do it anyway. You know, because sex.

She holds out her now gone cup of ice cream.
“More”
I'm now dreading a third trip to the Bodega, but when I return she's asleep again, cigarette this time poised in front of her face sitting up in bed. She lies back and cigarette falls out of her hand and onto her neck. She jumps up and screams.

Now I would be concerned if I saw that happening to my baby, my lover, my honey bunny boo. Nah I just think it's fucking hilarious. It's so damn predictable. Why earlier in the foot massage she was rubbing Bacitracin over other burn marks on her throat, shoulders, upper arms.
The cigarette then went skittering under the food table, where I deftly caught it and gave it back. She gave a little smile with a coquettish tilt of the head and said 'Thank you LeLers”. I do like it when she does that. Back in her mouth it goes, fur and all. This will go on for … all night sometimes. Except I pretend to be asleep if I'm not, and if I am asleeeeep I'm thankfully very very far away...

“AHAAHHH!!” wakes me up with a startle.
“Oh shit where did it go!” She'd pop and start paddling the bed until a little red spark would jump out, trailing embers, and she'd try to grab it, only for it to go on the now candy wrapper and cookie crumb Pepsi splashed ice cremed and dog fur strewn floor. And then back in her lips. And back into slumberland.

Repeat after me. “AAAAEEEHHH .. SHIT .OH. SHIT.. oh. Here it is” Funny, isn't it?

It still beats actual sex with her.


Then a day of sleep. Too many Cookies, Ice Cream. Ginger ale. Pomegranate Raspberry Crystal Lite
Then a day of sleep. Something else, no ice cream, just too many rye bread with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - Back and forth to the kitchen I go.
Orange juice is low. Pomegranate Raspberry Crystal Lite juice needs to be made again.
Bread is all gone. She keeps holding her plate out and saying “can I have just one more?”

I've had some oatmeal and coffee. Splash of milk and some brown sugar. I've made a couple actual dinners for myself, but nothing extravagant, the most of which being Orzo, but only if you don't realize it's just huge maggot sized pasta.

And a pot of rice with a hot dog, and spices. She'd told me they were VERY good hot dogs. If it's a cold day in NYC a Dachshund poop in casing would be good too. But not as good as these, yummy!

And a small bowl of salad with French dressing and a few olives.

A couple large over battered chicken drumsticks from the freezer, several periods of time ago, nobody quite remembers. So much so that they turn out to be chicken Tenders.

And then the manic vacuuming begins. She jumps out of bed and  OUT comes the vacuum and she literally chases me with it, trying to clean up my dirt. Goes over her area with the filth from the dog, the crumbs, the sodas, Ice cream and something that vaguely wigglesand  tries to fly. She'd pound the end this way and that with no end attachment and rabid  futile jabs and pokes, nothing on the little hose to really pick much up, and with sobs of "I slave over this, mommy can never do enough.... maa haa haaa... everything is so dirty" This weird and obsessive back and forth, here and there running around till the cord comes out of the wall used to make me very pissed off, however this time I found it very entertaining. That is because she was bare naked. (she was never naked in bed, only out where I could see her,) and she was very flexible, very burlesque about it. I vowed never to say anything about her vacuuming again.

The night before I'm about to leave, she gets all grumpy with the 'everyone hates, me, you don't care, just run home and forget me, that I'm in pain. You couldn't care less. And by the way, you owe me $100. Not just for all the food you ate that I had to buy as broke as I am, but for the anguish you've caused me , all the hurt you've inflicted on me. All the cleaning up I had to do after you!”

She had asked me while I was sick and she wasn't, if she could get me anything, and I thought about it, not being really hungry, okay, some Italian bread.
“Is that all?” When she came back I saw the little bread on the kitchen counter, but refrained from trying it until I'd offered her some too. She came in and mentioned some Golden Raisins, 'I know you like those' 
I think a couple years ago I was munching on them because they were always there, and all there was that could be nibbled on. I like the dark ones better, but didn't say anything.
This all came to a little over $100.
“What? No way! What else did you get?”
She vaguely waves at the rather full cupboard and says 'well, other stuff I thought you'd like. Everything is expensive in the city. Oh, and I got the Corn Flakes. I had indeed mentioned corn flakes although she had a bit of Cheerios and some Rice Krispies, and I like those too. I didn't really look, I assumed they were one of the boxes in there. One morning I had a bowl, mixing the two together after looking for my corn flakes she'd bought. They were no where to be found. I hadn't really looked in the bag, or paid much attention to what was being moved around the counter, there was I think a wet sponge involved, but honestly? I was looking at the back of her very small fuschia panties with the bright green piping that were starting to come down a bit, over her nether lumps, that tail wagging around as she pushed things back and forth on the counter. Last time I would have gently run my fingers over a cheek and she'd giggle and say 'sthaaap it' and I would, only to caress her shoulder or run my fingers down her lumpy allasaurus  backbone.

We weren't doing that this time because of a previous conversation about not feeling intimate with a guy unless she could trust him, and know that he'd go to bat for her, and pamper her like a true lady, and not be so damn selfishly interested in just his needs, but would provide for the both of us. For the irony in that so grotesque, read to the end. 

I agreed. I was doing this a lot lately, curious to see what would happen.

Walked in with my little round slice of bread and said this isn't Italian, see, here it says French bread. Mnnn!, It's so good! I love crusty bread. Do you like it too? She did too!
"Can you make me a sandwich with peanut butter and jelly? And cut it this way, lengthwise, not across. And warm it up in the Microwave. Thaank you Lelaers!" So I took half of it sliced it lengthwise, peanut butter, jelly, on a plate in the microwave for 17 seconds.
I always pick odd numbers in case there are any people with OCD around that I can freak out. 51 seconds is my favorite.

She loves this. The sandwich that is. After a while, wants another one. That's the other half of the loaf. It's a small loaf. And I cut just a little bit off the fat end with a bit of peanut butter and jelly, eat it and it's so good. I bring the rest it to her, and she's happy.

Next morning I wake up very early to the construction down in the street, even the wet tissue paper jammed in my ears didn't completely drown it out, though in the haze between the dreams and the lucid it sounded like there was some background music was going on, and people singing, which I laughingly told her about.

“what are you doing”
“I can't sleep anymore. I got enough last night, it's okay, I'm just nervous”
"Nervous about what?"
I turned on my laptop and went straight to my bank account. The money was finally there there, almost $400, a couple days late. This is from the seemingly never ending trades where I'd make a bit here, a bit there. Often on margin, so if I got $46, from 1000 $ in stock, it was purely $46 traded with someone else's money, $10 trading commission taken out. Doing this over and over, and even losing some badly had kept a three month total going from $2800, to $2400, although how much of that was the margin, and how much was cash I could get out of it was still mostly a mystery to me. And I kept borrowing from that margin, because there was no actual outstanding cash balance, selling a hundred, even fifty shares, would add back into both cash accumulation and margins ability to buy something else.

Two days ago I thought I'd put that into my account, but when It didn't show up, I had panicked. I wasn't able to pay the parking garage fee I'd hidden the car from the blizzard in, and at $40 a day I was waiting yet another day.

So now I started paying bills. I don't have that many, and they are all on-line, the game was to put $50 there, $30 here, so that at least I was paying something. The goal was to keep everyone happy until the house sold, then I'd have enough real money to close all those accounts. I kept enough aside for the car.

The water company immediately called me back and verified I'd paid $41. Yes, that was me. Well, I'm afraid we have a problem. You see your total is XXX and the past due balance is $150, and I don't know if you realized this, but the shut off notice is tomorrow. I politely thanked him for informing me, because I truly hadn't been paying attention “I've been on vacation this week” I said. I was hoping this would piss him off. I quickly calculated what I had left. So the $150 minus the $41 I paid is how much? Okay I have that. And I gave him my visa ATM card and we were very nice to each other, bidding each other a wonderful day, bub-bye!

Suzy was in the bedroom, I was just right outside the bedroom door and the computer phone was up loud enough for her to hear the conversation. This is what I'd wanted. I turned around to her gravely, but relieved.

“Did you hear that? They were about to turn my water off tomorrow! Luckily I had enough just in time to take care of it. But .. oh wow, I don't have much left. Enough to pay the garage and a little left over. I quickly put some extra in Pay-pal, topped off Savings with another $60, so when I needed it, then it was only a few buttons away.

I had my hat and coat on, and was scrambling to find my things. “Why are you being so frazzled” she asked, walking up behind me.
“It's okay Suzie.... I'm just nervous – I need to get home - soo - much to do! I have an appointment tomorrow to sell some stuff in the house, and I want to put more things out he'll see, maybe he'll want them. Say, are you hungry? I can go get us some breakfast!

“Chocolate Croissants.”
“Where?”
“The bakery down the street.”
“Which direction?”
“South”
“And what is this bakery's name?”
“The bakery.”
“No I know it's a … oh, they call themselves just The Bakery?”
“Yeeeeahhh, you got it!!”
“I'll get some coffees too, and maybe a muffin. My treat, Okay?”

Got the car out of the lot, cost me ONLY $120, was so happy to be driving my car again, up above the slush and sludge of the streets, went around a few blocks to where I knew this place must be, and sure enough, it was called the bakery. I got Bagels, Lox, Green Onions and Cream Cheese, FOUR chocolate bagels, because she had pointedly asked for two and a rich looking crumbly muffin for her. I knew the game. We munched, slurped coffee and afterwards, she pointed to two large bags of laundry and asked could I take them to the Laundromat. The Chinese one.
“Right, the one behind the big black railing, in fact it's CALLED The Chinese Laundry.”
“Yup, that's the one!”
“Great I parked right in front of it, I'll drop these off and be on my way! “
I gave her a friendly peck on the cheek.
"See you soon, and I really do apologize for being so sick all over."
“Get well Leland. It's our pact of health, now get going!!”

I walk down to where I think he laundry is. And I'm a little bit disturbed. Not only can I not make out where the laundry is, I can't find my car? I then find the laundry, go to the door, says it's open but it's locked, and knocking doesn't bring anyone forth. And I start to panic. I walk to the end of the street, and back. NO car, and it was just here!!! This won't be the first time a friend and I have been towed, but Every Damn Time, it some confusing sign, and lots of money to get it back, plus a taxi ride there, and any other parking violations they tell you that you need to pay are way downtown from, meaning a long subway ride, and a little dance around the narrow sidewalks of Wall street on the third or second floor of this massive and more or less indistinguishable building down a long hallway, to a window where a very jaded elderly lady slowly goes through a huge but thorough process of paperwork after paperwork after paperwork. Luckily if we don't have some of it, she does, or can get it on the Fax machine, and after a while that is done, we get an exhonoration slip (my term), and then have to take the subway ALL the way back mid town to 38th street, walk over 4 block, and try again. And it usually works. They will even accept the excuse that the rest of your paperwork, Registration, Insurance is in the dashboard and will send someone with you to verify it. Yeah, welcome to New York. God forbid anything is expired or misplaced. You have to fix it because they cannot. Not saying they should, but leniency is not in their spirit. They have no spirit .

Yea, I look forward to this process. I go up the elevator, and open the door, and trying not to yell:
“Dammit... they towed my car!!”
“Why?”
“I think I need a parking permit, All the other cars have all this identical paperwork in their windows”
“I never heard of that!”
“ummm... oh, that's right, you don't drive! I remember now. Well you're damn lucky”
“How are you getting home?”
“Trains, and walk as usual. Hey, it's a nice day. Shit shit shit”
“Why do you still have the laundry bags?”
“The laundromat says it's open but it's locked and nobody comes to the door. I'm sorry you'll have to take them sweetie, I have to go, I can't stand this. I have to do something about my damn CAR! Shit why does this keep happening! Look, I'll see you, call me later, okay?”
“Sure. Take care. Good luck with the car”

I take the familiar path to Penn station remebering how many times I thought to myself 'Good bye buildings, goodbye D'agastino's, Revlon building so lipstickey, Angelo's Pizza , Doral... last time I come THIS way again... in a fit of sad dismissal after being kicked out yet again, or kicking myself out by way of not being able to take the insanity. But I thought 'at least I know where I'm going and what to do , and have just enough money on my card. The E train was packed as usual, but some awesomely beautiful young Asians, and Latina to look at, and so it goes.
Penn station and then the Transit home. Penn station used to be so confusing and panic ridden for me, now it's a welcome routine. The train ride is nice but slow, and I don't care, I just look out the window, at the bleak NJ scenery in winter , ponds of ice, decrepit buildings that still seem to be used for something, some that aren't, a huge lot of battered rusted and broken cars, buses, heavy machinery, this is indeed the vomit pot of the area. 

But for some strange – serene – reason – I've done this before. It will be okay. I started making my plans.

Once at the end station I did the unthinkable. I took a cab for the 5 mile ride home that I usually walk. My feet hurt, I was wearing the wrong kind of boots for my one day trip last Sunday night. So what the hell. My house sells in 18 days, this is all just a temporary thing. After that a new world. Yes, after that, bright for me as the sky is now. Yes.

At home, I push my way through the thick snow in my yard that will need to be shoveled tomorrow. I don't mind it. I see little cat paws all over, and know who needs to be fed. It's warm and inviting inside, I put my backpack down and kick off my boots. Inspect the place, re-acquainting myself with the other less glamorous but just as chaotic spaces. And flop on the big soft bed with he big quilt that is not charred all over, and relax.

Not long afterwards, the computer phone rings. I was trying to surf CNN to get my mind off everything.

It's Suzan. Hi Suzan I made it! Its a –
“WHUY DO YOU AWAUS DO THISSS TO ME UH UH UH UHHHH, WUHYYYYY??”
“What did I do Suzy?” I use my gentle soft baby talk voice.
“YOU WERE SUPPPSTO TAKE C A R E OF THINGS!! Uh uh YOU ONLY THINK ABOUT YOURSLEF DON'T YOUUUUU!!!”
“Hey, Suzy, tell me – what things did I miss doing? I did as much as I could, I even got us breakfast, I gave you the French br-”
“YOU WERE SUPOSD TO GIVE ME A HUNDRED DOLLARS! AND TAKKE THE LAUNDRY!”
“But Suzy, they were closed, and I really had to go find my car!”
“ I DON”T CARE ABOUT THE LAUNDRY, I'll DO THAT, WHAT ABOUT THE MONEY!!!”
“I told you, and you heard, I had to pay because of the shut off notice! It was unexpeced. You wouldn't want to see me with no water, I'd dry up, and to do that over a measly $100 is cruel and unfair to me”
“You never think of me do you you never think of anybody else... you..”
“Come on Suzy, I don't think $100 is fair, but look even so after the house sells, I'll be glad to give that to you?”
“Then it will be too late! YOU - “
and then she hung up. I was going to say something else but it would not have mattered. I could have sung her hush baby don't you cry... in the most sincere tone, but I knew she'd keep on cursing me, because that's what these moods do. Oh well, I was used to it. She'll call back soon enough, but do I ever want to go back there? I dunno, and put up with all of her self indulgent self inclicted pain and abuse that she blames on me? She had cried that I'd eaten everything, EVERYTHING.

So then it starts to add up, and sink.

Here's what really happened.

We used to do crack together a couple years ago when we lived with each other for 6 months, working on her website in return for me being able to stay there, and I'd be just fine if a little buzzed and even more randy, while she blubbered or vacuumed like a naked and I have to say oddly erotic witch which would give me the strangest boner. Crack can do that to a guy. But I'd be okay. But angry with her. Not this time, I didn't do crack with her this time.

Follow me here.

The bag of groceries was $100, yet except for the loaf of bread, she pointed out the rice... and I 'think' the raisins, but they were always there... I don't remember anything else that looked different on the shelves. And she herself was complaining I had eaten everything there was nothing left for her. Except everything.

A bag empty of groceries that cost $100.

I knew quite well that four little baggies of crack cocaine - maybe 5 if priced right at $20 per baggie, cost $100.

She was insistent from the start that I would owe her $100. And she had but three days ago done her last hits, then went into her usual coma. In fact she'd boasted about spending her last $500 on this massive amount but I was feeling too dizzy and not in the mood to share, so she did ALL of them.

She had run out, and knew, after swearing off them like I would swear off alcohol, she would need her fix after I left.

OR

What if she had got 5 of them on 'credit', knowing the rest of the money would come from me, somehow.

“You don't know what I've just done.” “What?” “You don't want to know”

That was it. Instead of saving five bags out, and saying "he didn't show up" or "he didn't have it, here's your merch back". She blindly kept doing it and doing it until it was all gone, which is what we'd always do. 

Back then she would run out in her coat and underpants to the bank across the street to get out another hundred dollars. Or she'd try to get me to do it.

One night I simply refused.

You don't understand Leeelers, they are Columbian!! If you say you're gonna buy and they come all the way out and you say sorry, no money... leeland you don't know what they can do!! GO GET THE MONEY!!! I don't want to be in trouble!!

I figured this was just histrionics, why couldn't she go again, why me? 

What was happening is she was grooming me for her druglord as a new addict, and with the extra money he would make on me, she could get a discount. It was important that I show that I want to give them money and go to the bank for them, because they would show up minutes after I got back. Suzy and Serge would often go out in the hall and whisper, and I wondered what they were talking about. That must have been IT!

But this time, because I was just there paying bills instead of smoking it with her earlier, and she had been hinting all along I 'owed' her $100 that I would give it to her when she begged. she kept making up more and more absurd reasons why I owed it to her.
I ran out so fast, and she was full of chocolate croissant and eye boogers, she forgot to keep making that point and let me get away.


Then she realized what * she * had done.



Epilogue:


I kept a record of food I was eating. Here it is.


1 Bowl Cereal (Rice Krispies, and Cheerios mix, with milk. Couldn't find the Corn Flakes anywhere.
1 SLICE of that french bread - and that little end piece. She ate the rest.
2 glasses of Orange Juice.
1 cup rice with a hot dog (below), smart balance and some spices.
1 hot dog.
(that was one dinner, lasted two days)
1 cup Orzo, with Olive Oil and Butter (and some spices)
1 package creamed spinach with
1 small can creamed corn mixed in
1/2  bag of Salad (ready to go bad)
2 Chicken tenders that she told me were in the freezer.
For two days I did not eat, just drank water, and she gave me that DEELICIOUS Vitamin C mix with the Raspberry Crystal lite.
Also had a couple cups of Chamomile Tea and one Eccanacia.
So when she said I ate everything, and that I eat SO much... Really Susan. This time I remembered and honestly a little bit offended that she would make that statement. 


This is a rather good diet meal plan, given the time frame.
And honestly, I'm rather proud of it!
I should do this more often

Friday, January 23, 2015

Mommy's Going Astray

I checked in with my mom after I heard that the Adirondaks had been cursed with some flooding. My immediate thought was "Did my childhood home get swept away by yet another storm of water?"

It almost was, once, during hurricane Irene.

But it was not a rainstorm that yielded a swords path, it was an emotional storm that devastated what seemed to be a happy compromise of work and life, between my mother and her new (40 years now) husband.

My father died in 1980, his young wife supplicated his painful and miserable death by cancer. He didn't drink, or smoke, it was just - cancer. He lived a blessed life, married a beautiful wife, lived a blissful indulgence of art culture, and eternal learning, wrote about his discoveries, and made a bit of money publishing books about his discoveries on the process of making graphics, art and whatnot. He taught me the principle of "Do well at what you love, and the money will follow"

I follow, very loosely in his footsteps, I am not a 'professor' with a title as he was, but I have answers to questions many people ask, and kindly take care of strays that come my way. I am a benefactor, just as my father was.

So it pains me to know that my mom, brilliant, creative and resourceful as she is...
Landed herself in the hospital. For not eating, or taking care of herself, for being dispassioned of life, and sick of the day to day, and having to deal with a man she married who doesn't love her, or care for her anymore.

I do not question the specifics, I know all too well how we fall out as friends, but when it happens to ones we consider our life partners, then it gets sad.

I spent my last few years from 2003 to 2005 taking care of and living with my father's sister, my Aunt Mary, who I didn't really like very much, but family obligation steered me to do the right thing and take care of her in her last years. She died in my arms, I put her to rest on the floor, covered her with a blanket, and put a pillow under her now dead head, out of respect. I looked up at the ceiling thinking maybe that is where her consciousness is... and said to the empty space "So this is how it ends. Okay."

Then since it was very early, I went back downstairs and slept until I felt like waking up and dealing with the inevitable. Oh, the police came, and had a big investigation, and had lots of questions for me, took all her medication, and asked if I was selling pills she had.., well, honestly, they had to come to the table with those assumptions, because it is so prevalent. But no, Her pills had NOTHING on what I could get my hands on from my friends so, that was thankfully not an issue.

My mom was the first person I called. She knew the situation here, and she was 'on hold' I would guess, for such a thing, obviously, my aunt was old and was going to die, so it was just a matter of when. My mom and I pulled it together wonderfully, gracefully, and respectfully,  neither of us really liked this person, but Aunt Mary was not evil or bad... she was just unschooled, ignorant, opinionated and bossy, and a pain in the arse for anyone who she had the unfortunate accident to come to speaking terms with. Which, was everybody. Even her husband was an unspeakable alcoholic, and catholic dependant, saying rosaries every day, and atoning for sins from a time way before he mistreated his wife my Aunt, Mary.  Well, he atoned for mistreating her too. But she functioned as a dumb slave. I knew all this going into my servitude helping my Aunt Mary die. And I have no regrets, except I wish I had not gotten so angry with her when I did. A big mistake is to fault the doomed. Note to future self - don't do that.

Life lesson learned. Don't blame old people for being old and stupid. Be nice to them, and be brilliant yourself.

TL;dr.

At about this point in this awful mesmerizing troupe I am writing you are thinking, what the fuck is the point of my reading this? Is it Too Long, Didn't Read? thus [TL:dr]
Well you've made it this far, that's the buy in.

You need to know what happens next.

No aliens invade the earth or stupid shit like that. Calm down. I just want to tell you a story. So where was I?

Oh,... to be continued.


Post to the future.

I'm just going to quote from a message I wrote to a friend, and it explains a bit about how I talk, and sometimes... think. That is when I do that.


By way of explanation, not excuse, sometimes I slide into 'social meme' talk, which does, now that you pointed it out, sound a bit Marlowesque. When I make obscure references to things that are kindof childish, it can be misinterpreted as being 'not all there'.

For quite a while, say about a couple years, I lived with this very pretty gal, and her lovely daughter who was 3 then 4 at the time. I got to watch her learn to talk. And I'd talk and play with her. We'd watch teletubbies together. Now, I know that the whole teletubby thing is a turn off for some people, and talking like a teletubby as a grown man, a computer technician nonetheless can cause some doubt in people's estimation of my ability.

"wut dat com-puteaaa? Weee, fan go round and round!! I make windows cwash! tee hee heee !'

So I channel that lingo into my talk, and people are like 'are you okay, dude?' and think I must have broken something in my psyche.
Most of it is a reference joke ... and sometimes I fail to let them in on what the joke is about... or I just came from a totally different place. Sharing teletubby talk on the internet with people who may not know, appreciate, or care about it... well. I still think it's funny.

(friend said I had a sardonic form of humor)

As far as sardonic humor goes... thank you so much. I am very complimented with that. Just the word 'Sardonic' alone made my ears perk up and wiggle a little. Who uses that word anymore? Well I do too, and refrain, because most people don't. So I drop to Teletubby level.

------------------------------------------------------------

So that is what was in my IM to her, some of it. Personal references are left out, but one other thing I did say, that I couldn't quite fit in, again for personal reasons, is that we all need another pair of eyes.

I use this phrase in the printing  / desktop publishing job I do that I try to get paid for. When reading something, we always need another pair of eyes to make sure everything is spelled right, the t's are dotted and the i's are crossed.

Did you just get that? Yeah, see, it can be tricky.

But what I want are electronic eyes, that can superimpose the metadata on what one looks at in 'real life'. 

See, Google Glass tries to do this, but it's not ready yet. Oh, it's being rolled out now for real, but it's not REALLY there.

The next phase of seeing and thinking will be instant lookup of anything that has ever been 'recorded'. The show 'Person of Interest' hints at this in the character of 'root' who just knows stuff because the computer who guides her mind knows stuff.

And anyone on facebook kind of 'knows this' because we all have YouTube, and Google, and WebMD and and so many other ways of referencing, searching, confirming, or disproving.

It almost becomes psychopathic in the ability to find whatever kind of absurdity we are in search of, or wish to attempt to confirm.

Nowhen has there been so much at our fingertips, and probably at no point have people had so much access, and then become so lazy as to just say 'oh I don't need to know that, I'll just look it up later'.

I'm SO guilty of that too.

Anyway, I need to write the story of two "types" of people who live through the Earth's freezing... the so called global warming, then the other side of the equasion where everything freezes. Yes, people do make it through that, but in the interveining 300,000 years they change.

What will people be like in 300,000 years? Well, not James Kirk, or Bruce Willis, or ... although that would be nice.

No, it needs to be worked out different from what Hollywood - film producers - entertainment industry - marketers - say it should be.

The movie AI was one of my favorites. And most people didn't like it. Know why? The Humans ( us, our society ) does not win in the end. The android does. And those other transparent super race of whatever... does.

That to me, is Science Fiction done right.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

father

My father was pretty much what I have become. 
He was a curious soul, and loved working with physical things. By that I mean things that could be pasted onto paper, like transfer type. You don't see that anymore these days, in fact most of what he did, taught, professed in, and wrote about has been replaced by computers.
Which is i suppose why he made me. Because I'd take up that new generalational thinking, and turn all of his swishes of the brush into flicks of the mouse.

But my father learned to do it all by hand.

Each
And
Everey
Step.

There was no record of his time before he met my mommy. I've seen some pictures. He dated this girl who was kind of fat and unattractive Ugly, I'd say,  but I am not a judge. Or a dog. He was, although he'd never admit it. He didn't like dogs. Maybe too much competition.  He felt inferior so he boosted up his game, and knew more about his subject than the average joe, so he could speak at length about subjects. mostly art, and how to make it, and re-create it. He took me and Rebecca ( mommy) to art galleries around New York City, where I now live, and did his ultimate best to show us that he KNOWS what is bright brilliant and beautiful.

It's weird in a way, he knew what was beautiful, but could not touch or create it. He could only talk about, and describe it. But at the very end of his life, I will send you some pictures, he painted what he saw that he loved. Mostly landscapes, some banrs. things you would take casuals note of and pay no more attention to, but my father had a deeper eye, a vision that cherished the usual, and turned it into the love.

Not so much Art for art's sake, but how to put together a really nice looking portrait of something you want to sell, and really, that what what he ultimately wanted to get hired to do. Make nice pictures of things to sell.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Why this love?

It seems late in the game for me. Yet all time is a fungible asset when it comes to love, life, laughter, and happy. I am in a state of grace Well, technically, I'm in New Jersey. But I am befunded by bright friends, who wish me well, and make my tuniverse a pretty song. I could not wish for, ask for, dig for more. There are even some people who look up at me and say 'he seems to know the answers' as if I have it figured out. Well dear loves, I don't but I do get the joke. And that is the first step in strumming in tune with our universe. Because it's all based on string theory... no not the difficult mathematical type, but the basic strings that connect our lives, our stories, our songs to one another. I follow those strings from station to station, people to venues, and somehow, it starts to make sense. And then it all falls apart.

I sing freely loud and clear. I stand, not alone but with a friend by my side to say this.

I wish beyond all wishes that I could lead others who are confused, miserable, in search of... lead them to understand that THEY are the universe we live. But then this happens. We  (sisTer Natasha and I ) get arrested for nothing. By those we entrust to protect and serve. I'm just telling the story, I am not judging. I love my brothers in uniform, you are doing what you think you know is right. I am not your accountant, but merely a few pennies what slipped through the crack.

I was in court earlier today. My sister, Natasha kept punching me in the arm, telling me WAKE UP. She kept telling me I was going to be thrown out of court for going to sleep during the proceedings. Sometimes I'd punch her back, a playful little slap of the arm, or a swat with my hat. "You asshole" she'd say. But we were keeping each other awake, and reminding each other of the deep shit we were SUPPOSED to be in. We both knew it was a joke. Well, it was so boring, and I really hate to tell it this way but it must be said. The monkeys who were trying to prop up this kangaroo court were busy in their books, I don't even know how well read they are, they were just posing as IF they thought it might impress those white folks, with their attempt at book learning. I saw how their eyes scanned the pages, the defense attorney was not reading, he was pretending to be knowledgeable. I saw through their lies and their idiocy. I saw through the bullshit today. and it just affirmed all that I know. A bunch of monkeys professing to be astute and fair, do what looks like due diligence, without any clue, and  probably do more harm than good in trying, the best they know how in trying to do good in harms way. All they know is lies drugs and subtrefuge, so when an honest person comes along, they have no idea what to make of it. Are you a Drug User? Are you a Pusher? Are you a ... no. Don't you get it? I'm an innocent bystander. "What is that? Why weren't you trying to break a law? Everyone breaks laws, what were you doing to break a law?"

We stopped our car on 18th street in Newark. That is our criminal offense. The monkeys go look in their paper-bound books of pseudolegalese, and try and convince us that we did something wrong.

This, this right here, whether committed by white racial supremacists, or those of dark skin who do the same without realizing it... that is the difference between neadrathal, and homo-sapien. I just sit by and while it may seem I am going to sleep, I am just bored by the slowness. by the unknowning-ness, by the assumption of guilt by proximity of crime, and while all these things are going though my mind, one monkey looks up and says "Your honor, if I may" and looks back in his book and contemplates what to say next but doesn't really come up with anything but "I wish to argue the case of 3:15, b, section 8 of the code of" Blah blah blah. It is stupid defined. and unfortunatly I find myself in the middle of their babbling. And utterly chained by the law-books they do not seem to be able to read.

I need to take a shower now, fresh warm water, to cleanse me, help me understand how to get out of the muck of stupid.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Apps and Offices and Object Linking & Embedding

I had a fun time playing around with Google Apps the last week or so. For most my basic needs the word-processor and spreadsheet are just fine. Unless you have highly intricate sheets with macros... a power user, you should be fine with them too for inventory lists, employee lists, calculators of whatever it is you want to program them with.

Google Docs are nice, but again, as I use the web and page layout, and illustration as primary means of putting things out there, my use of a wordprocessor is minimal.

I was even able to share snippets of Google's spreadsheet in a web page. Which was cool, but it wasn't editable.

Then I tried Microsoft Outlook.com got yet another MS email address - I've had several  in the past, hotmail, live, whatever.

Along the way I discovered the newly released MS Web Apps for Skydrive, and so far so good.  I like the fact that MS has kept the ribbon controls everyone has so reluctantly gotten used to.

I also think the'tiles for documents is kindof cool looking, but if you have lots of documents? Time to find out tomorrow, I'll load it up - all SEVEN GIGS worth. In another week or so that won't sound like much, but for basic documents, that really is a hell of a lot of storage. If you've got videos you put them in YouTube, and for music, use Soundcloud, or Mixcloud.

Best of all exporting part of a spreadsheet - a cute little resolution aspect ratio counter, I was able to embed the document into a webpage AND change the values non-destructively to have the calcultor actually calculate.

Best of all i was able to export just the amount of the spreadsheet I wanted... with the option to include or exclude sheets, and alllow or disallow the user from making edits. And password protected them to only approved accounts.

So far both Emails and Web Apps accounts are free, although Google is starting to charge for new business App Accounts. It's not much though, and probably worth it for support.  Microsoft may well follow, however they do offer a paid for expanded Office 365 product that is more fully featured. This is something Google does NOT have, so once again Microsoft finds a way of capitolizing on it's years as an office application platform,  regardless of the medium.

I'm actually glad to see this, because while Open Source has Libre Office, there's not enough development from the nonpaid VOLUNTEERS who update it to transition to a fully functional web app.

And this is just a very beginning, while SAAS is pretty much a vertical market for it's specific applications, more general applications may be arising soon which mix the boundaries of the document to the long awaited concept of a 'document container' that provides full applications within object elements. Need a spreadsheet module, just plunk one in and the full features of a desktop office based system is there in full to support it. Not just an integrated applet cobbled together to form an interoperable 'suite' but the whole deal. Inserting a picture is the same as creating a picture using Photoshop - think Pixlr.

What is so different now?

Some critical elements are in place that allows big data centers to handle all the various instances of the programs, do the calculations, conversions and keep document space on those very computers, and simply send the interface to the end user in real time. Of course this has been done many times before, but not in a fully integrated way, and not in the comofortable interactive friendly way local programs have provided in the past. What has really changed is the speed at which all these elements can be sent back and forth, and the onboard processing power of new web interface technologies.

4/12/2013