An atheist and a Greek Orthodox priest walk into a gym and talk about rap music and depression.
I've had more surreal moments, but this is certainly in the top 15.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Laid off.
Not quite the way I wanted to get laid, but I suppose it will do.
Some of you know that I've seen this coming down the road a while. Production has moved to Jersey, and I ain't commuting that far.
I'll get my resume in order this week, and work on a portfolio.
I have enough money to last until the end of the year (decent severance package). I've been encouraged to see what's up with the company in January, as they might need me by then.
I'd prefer to have another, better paying job by then.
Some of you know that I've seen this coming down the road a while. Production has moved to Jersey, and I ain't commuting that far.
I'll get my resume in order this week, and work on a portfolio.
I have enough money to last until the end of the year (decent severance package). I've been encouraged to see what's up with the company in January, as they might need me by then.
I'd prefer to have another, better paying job by then.
Friday, October 26, 2007
I have been a bad blogger.
Sorry.
Ain't a whole lot going on. I don't feel all that great. I don't leave the house unless I have to. I don't do anything for fun. I'm avoiding my friends. I haven't done anything creative.
About two weeks ago, my mood plummeted. I don't know why.
I've taken care of my blood work & fee scale at the hospital. I should be in a program pretty soon.
In the mean time, go here. I don't know when Part 2 will be up. I'd have to start it, first.
Ain't a whole lot going on. I don't feel all that great. I don't leave the house unless I have to. I don't do anything for fun. I'm avoiding my friends. I haven't done anything creative.
About two weeks ago, my mood plummeted. I don't know why.
I've taken care of my blood work & fee scale at the hospital. I should be in a program pretty soon.
In the mean time, go here. I don't know when Part 2 will be up. I'd have to start it, first.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Totally New Concept!
"Getting your money's worth."
I pay $78/month for a gym membership.
Until this past Monday, I hadn't gone in six weeks. And another six weeks before that incident.
I've gone every night, Monday through Thursday. I'm going again tonight, and hopefully tomorrow night.
Each session lasts about two or three hours. First, an hour on the elliptical machine. Then a 15 minute break to stretch out the crick in my neck that develops every damn time. Then various weight lifting, with small breaks in between. I wrap it up with 10-30 minutes of deep stretching.
No more being a fat-ass for me, thanks.
I pay $78/month for a gym membership.
Until this past Monday, I hadn't gone in six weeks. And another six weeks before that incident.
I've gone every night, Monday through Thursday. I'm going again tonight, and hopefully tomorrow night.
Each session lasts about two or three hours. First, an hour on the elliptical machine. Then a 15 minute break to stretch out the crick in my neck that develops every damn time. Then various weight lifting, with small breaks in between. I wrap it up with 10-30 minutes of deep stretching.
No more being a fat-ass for me, thanks.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Joe Zawinul, RIP
http://www.zawinulmusic.com/
Joe wrote my favorite song ever, the one I've woken up to every weekday morning for the past eight years.
In a Silent Way, with Miles Davis. I listen to that album whenever I need to relax (which is often) or day dream. He helped usher in jazz fusion.
I was very lucky to see Joe perform with his Syndicate at Lincoln Center last year.
NPR Article about Joe's history.
Last month, we lost pioneering drummer Max Roach.
It hasn't been a good year for jazz masters.
Joe wrote my favorite song ever, the one I've woken up to every weekday morning for the past eight years.
In a Silent Way, with Miles Davis. I listen to that album whenever I need to relax (which is often) or day dream. He helped usher in jazz fusion.
I was very lucky to see Joe perform with his Syndicate at Lincoln Center last year.
NPR Article about Joe's history.
Last month, we lost pioneering drummer Max Roach.
It hasn't been a good year for jazz masters.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Just checking in...
I went upstate this weekend and hung out with some friends and their 3 young sons. It was good to get away from the city.
We haven't heard or seen the landlord since the incident, which is fine by us.
Work has been insane this week. I'm already exhausted. I'll try to have more to say this weekend.
We haven't heard or seen the landlord since the incident, which is fine by us.
Work has been insane this week. I'm already exhausted. I'll try to have more to say this weekend.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Even more drama...
And I fucking hate drama.
Went to the hospital again on Monday to check in with the psychs, and they continued my prescription for Wellbutrin, as I'm not having any side effects. I left & wandered aimlessly around the city for a while, and eventually got something to eat. Around 6, I called work and asked if they needed me, because I really wanted to go back home. Unfortunately, they did.
Work has sucked all week. Previous weeks had been dead. Monday, the floodgates of stupidity opened. Two very large jobs had to be reprinted. One because a client doesn't understand how to size a file properly (what the fuck does "pixel size" mean when you print in inches? NOTHING, that's what.). The other because they didn't do any proofreading until AFTER we got approval to print. I've stayed late every night except Friday night, because I needed to pick up groceries before the store closed.
But life at home was much more exciting. I woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of the carbon monoxide detector going off. Since CO is a poison, I called 911 and waited outside for the fire department. Two trucks came over, they went through the house...to find my landlord cooking some tomatoes on an antiquated stove in the basement (I'm on the second floor).
He doesn't live here! WTF is he doing cooking down there?
*sigh*
He's always bitching about how we MIGHT be the cause of some problem or another (like R's girlfriend is a stranger and might be a serial murderer, don't you watch the news, the world is going to hell, you can't trust anyone, blah blah blah), and it's never true. Now something happens and it's his damn fault.
I wasn't allowed back inside until the CO went down to safe levels. We had all our windows open anyway. The CO accumulated right in front of the door to the apartment, which is where the detector is. The landlord's wife thanked me for calling the fire department.
Thursday morning, he ambushed my other roommate on her way to work. She was late, and didn't discuss it. She left, which I sure as fuck don't blame her for.
Since he was unable to yell at her, he leaned on the door buzzer to wake me up & yell at me.
He says the FD caused him a lot of problems. He said they had to break open a window in the basement. He said we should have called him or ConEd.
Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe you shouldn't be cooking your tomatoes on an antiquated stove in a house you don't even live in.
In his broken English, he reiterated that we're supposed to call him & ConEd.
I tell him that the alarm itself says, "Call 911 or the Fire Department." nyc.gov says the same thing. What will you be able to do if we all pass out/die from CO poisoning? I'm trying to protect everyone, and you have a problem with this?
He started ranting about the tomatoes and his reputation, and I interrupted.
You know what? I'm sick of this. Every little thing we do, you freak out over. If we have guests, you assume they're serial killers, and we're trying to move them in. If we have a leaky faucet, you assume we're breaking the pipes with a sledgehammer. The ONE TIME something really dangerous happens, and it's your fault. A CO detector doesn't pick up the smell of tomatoes, it picks up CO. You know, a POISON. Thousands of people a year die from this! I don't want to die! I don't want you to die! I don't want our neighbors to die (well, except for that slutty bitch in the basement next door)!
He started yelling back in broken English.
It could have been much worse than it was! I called 911 because it's the law! IT'S THE LAW. IT'S THE LAW!
What law? THIS IS MY HOUSE!
(Your house? THIS! IS! SPARTA! And I kicked him down the stairs.)
(Okay, I didn't do that.)
FUCK YOU, YOU DIE. KILL YOU!
He stormed off, and I closed the door.
I love getting death threats in the morning.
-------------------------------------------
Inger's wake is tonight. It's going to be too hot to wear all black.
I'm helping Mike move tomorrow, from the Bronx to Astoria. It'll be good to have another friend in the neighborhood.
Went to the hospital again on Monday to check in with the psychs, and they continued my prescription for Wellbutrin, as I'm not having any side effects. I left & wandered aimlessly around the city for a while, and eventually got something to eat. Around 6, I called work and asked if they needed me, because I really wanted to go back home. Unfortunately, they did.
Work has sucked all week. Previous weeks had been dead. Monday, the floodgates of stupidity opened. Two very large jobs had to be reprinted. One because a client doesn't understand how to size a file properly (what the fuck does "pixel size" mean when you print in inches? NOTHING, that's what.). The other because they didn't do any proofreading until AFTER we got approval to print. I've stayed late every night except Friday night, because I needed to pick up groceries before the store closed.
But life at home was much more exciting. I woke up Wednesday morning to the sound of the carbon monoxide detector going off. Since CO is a poison, I called 911 and waited outside for the fire department. Two trucks came over, they went through the house...to find my landlord cooking some tomatoes on an antiquated stove in the basement (I'm on the second floor).
He doesn't live here! WTF is he doing cooking down there?
*sigh*
He's always bitching about how we MIGHT be the cause of some problem or another (like R's girlfriend is a stranger and might be a serial murderer, don't you watch the news, the world is going to hell, you can't trust anyone, blah blah blah), and it's never true. Now something happens and it's his damn fault.
I wasn't allowed back inside until the CO went down to safe levels. We had all our windows open anyway. The CO accumulated right in front of the door to the apartment, which is where the detector is. The landlord's wife thanked me for calling the fire department.
Thursday morning, he ambushed my other roommate on her way to work. She was late, and didn't discuss it. She left, which I sure as fuck don't blame her for.
Since he was unable to yell at her, he leaned on the door buzzer to wake me up & yell at me.
He says the FD caused him a lot of problems. He said they had to break open a window in the basement. He said we should have called him or ConEd.
Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe you shouldn't be cooking your tomatoes on an antiquated stove in a house you don't even live in.
In his broken English, he reiterated that we're supposed to call him & ConEd.
I tell him that the alarm itself says, "Call 911 or the Fire Department." nyc.gov says the same thing. What will you be able to do if we all pass out/die from CO poisoning? I'm trying to protect everyone, and you have a problem with this?
He started ranting about the tomatoes and his reputation, and I interrupted.
You know what? I'm sick of this. Every little thing we do, you freak out over. If we have guests, you assume they're serial killers, and we're trying to move them in. If we have a leaky faucet, you assume we're breaking the pipes with a sledgehammer. The ONE TIME something really dangerous happens, and it's your fault. A CO detector doesn't pick up the smell of tomatoes, it picks up CO. You know, a POISON. Thousands of people a year die from this! I don't want to die! I don't want you to die! I don't want our neighbors to die (well, except for that slutty bitch in the basement next door)!
He started yelling back in broken English.
It could have been much worse than it was! I called 911 because it's the law! IT'S THE LAW. IT'S THE LAW!
What law? THIS IS MY HOUSE!
(Your house? THIS! IS! SPARTA! And I kicked him down the stairs.)
(Okay, I didn't do that.)
FUCK YOU, YOU DIE. KILL YOU!
He stormed off, and I closed the door.
I love getting death threats in the morning.
-------------------------------------------
Inger's wake is tonight. It's going to be too hot to wear all black.
I'm helping Mike move tomorrow, from the Bronx to Astoria. It'll be good to have another friend in the neighborhood.
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