Blog
August 9, 2001
Tonite I am re-living the lazy college days of art school. Two forties of the Olde E and some Beastie Boys, who are no longer annoying after a one year neglect. And I am working on a freelance project.
This freelance project is nice because it doesn’t require me to get up every morning like my internship does. And it doesn’t make me sign “Sorry your dad died” and “Happy Birthday!” cards in the same goddammed day like my internship does.
But my internship is maybe maybe going to turn into an entry-level web design/programming position that will pay for some programming classes and pay a salary, so it’s best not to bitch about it for now.
And the JESUS.
August 7, 2001
I don’t think I’ve had one interesting thought for at least a week now. I must be getting used to working full time.
Or perhaps I’m reading too much Bukowski.
July 29, 2001
I recently visited the fine city of Iowa City, Iowa for my sister’s graduation from the University of Iowa. I’ve been away from Iowa for about 5 years and away from the Midwest for a little more than a year. When I go back to the Midwest I enjoy the laid backness and its obvious contrast to the workin-it scene of New York. I’ve been in New York for a little more than a year, and the more I get used to it, the more I think about going elsewhere to be lazy. Nevertheless, I expect to stay another 4 years or so.
For I desire the MONEY.
July 21, 2001
Lately I have been reading the english translation of Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre. He won the 1964 Noble Prize in Literature. He is red-haired as I am. He is of the existentialist nature.
One memorable quote from it thus far is:
Undoubtedly, on his death bed…he told his wife…who had watched beside him for twelve nights,
“I do not thank you, Therese; you have only done your duty.”
When a man gets that far, you have to take your hat off to him.
Some rough stuff. Also in this book, he tries to stab his hand to change the nature of its existence. It only kinda works.
July 12, 2001
My mom always tells me about how women are underrepresented and underpaid in the workforce of today’s America. She’s quite angry about it.
But since I’ve been in New York, it seems the only people I have ever interviewed with or worked with have been women. I’ve only worked with one man since I’ve been here, and I’ve worked with one million women.
Maybe it’s the profession, maybe it’s the city. But either way, sometimes I remember with strange fondness the old days of working with old cranky racist homophobic sexist Wastewater Treatment Men.
It seems my whole life I’ve been hanging out with thrice as many women as men. Perhaps that’s why I am such a woman.
July 7, 2001
Reminiscing about the music I used to listen to in college, I remember and severely recommend the LAWNMOWER DETH, the Atom and His Package, the Kraftwerk, the Pixies, the David Bowie, the Suffocation, and the GangStarr.
But lately as I have been out of college for one year, I recommend the same bands as above, as well as the Mobb Deep and the D12. My musical taste is not yet very sophisticated as a white man in Brooklyn, but it does me fine so far.
In other words: My musical tastes may suck, but at least I’m not all that ugly.
June 30, 2001
Last night I was watching Whipple’s World for some reason, and he was asking celebrities what their worst summer jobs were. I think most of them were working at the donut shop or things of that nature. I wasn’t really paying attention because I was making macaroni and cheese.
Anyway, now that I’m searching for full time employment, I’ve forgotten about the summer job scene. Ah, the shitty summer job. My summer jobs have included:
- caddying at the Joliet Country Club
- delivering papers for the Des Moines Register
- detasseling near Cedar Falls, Iowa
- working at the Des Moines Wastewater Treatment plant
- framing shitty pictures at Michael’s Arts and Crafts in Des Moines
I’m not sure which job was the worst, but I sure didn’t last too long with the framing. The Wastewater Treatment plant was quite interesting visually, with all the underground passageways and the pipes everywhere and the big-assed engines. And gallons upon gallons of straight SHIT.
June 30, 2001
I have just pulled my first all-nighter since college. There’s something interesting about an all-nighter. It makes you see the morning.
June 30, 2001
And the moral is: Don’t go after large things. They are too large.
June 30, 2001
I have just finally seen 2001: A Space Odyssey and I’m just finally reading Moby Dick. I have recently begun reading the books and seeing the movies that seem to have a certain cultural significance by the amount of times I have heard or seen them referenced. In short, I am reading the books everyone read in high school and seeing the movies everyone saw in high school.
What I have found humorous in Moby Dick is this passage spoken by the head of a rowboat trying to catch up to a whale:
“Start her, start her, my men! Don’t hurry yourselves; take plenty of time—but start her; start her like thunder-claps, that’s all,” cried Stubb, spluttering out the smoke as he spoke.
“Start her, now give ’em the long and strong stroke, Tashtego. Start her, Tash, my boy—start her, all—but keep cool, keep cool—cucumbers is the word—easy, easy—only start her like grim death and grinning devils, and raise the buried dead perpendicular out of their graves, boys—that’s all. Start her!”
