I gotta a job making money for the man, put the chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can.

I have had two jobs in “the industry” since I came to L.A.. They were both short lived, temp job type deals. At the first one I worked for one of the big studios at some satellite office, so I never got to go on the lot. Every day security gave me a bunch of bullshit when I tried to come in to work and I would have to go to the pay phone (I didn't have a cell phone yet) and call my agency. I was supposed to answer a phone for this executive. The only thing was she liked to answer her own phone. So, I only had to answer it while she was at lunch and it never rang then. Every day around 4pm, she would bring me a one page document to fax. I think she felt bad for me. I was probably sending blank sheets to her mom's house or something. My day consisted of trying to hide in my itchy polyester clothes so no one would notice that I didn’t do anything. It was oddly stressful. I would rather have been working. I sat in an almost empty cubicle. It had an electric typewriter and not much else. I did not have a computer, so no solitaire, no email no nothing. I read the complete works of Dorothy Parker in a week.

The second job I was working for one of the big industry papers. I was placed in the editorial department. Every morning when I came in, all the major newspapers would be lying on my desk with certain articles circled. It was my job to cut them out then photocopy several sets for the morning editorial meeting. It was to be my only peaceful time of the day. After that task was accomplished, the phones would be turned on. When the temp agency called me, they asked if I had ever worked with multi-lined phones. I said yes. I really should have asked how many multi is. I was thinking it was like five or six. Turns out it was forty. And they rang all the damn time. They never stopped until they were turned off at five. They were split between me and another woman, twenty lines each. Still, that is a lot. We never spoke to each other or took breaks. People would call, all agitated, yelling things like, “whose Kate Moss’s agent?” I really didn’t know anything about the industry and I have to admit I would occasionally “get cut off” from the person asking the hard to answer question. We got about twenty minutes for lunch and maybe one bathroom break all day. I was too inexperienced to call anyone out on the legalities of this. When my lunch break came, I would eagerly exit the building, lighting the first of three or four cigarettes I could suck down in twenty minutes. I would walk down the street to the 7-11 and get a hot dog and a soda. Once, I was walking through the parking lot and I saw a car that had been abandoned in front of the store while the owner went in to quickly buy chips, smokes, rubbers or whatever. He had forgotten to set the parking brake, but had locked the car up tight. It was rolling back into the very busy intersection. All these people came running to try to stop it. I remember standing there watching it drifitng forebodingly while all this anonymous good intention tried to make things right, and thinking, “yeah, entropy is a bitch”. But, they did stop it.

I got to actually go onto a studio lot the other day for an actual meeting. After the meeting, I did "get lost" a little on the way to my car. I think I have pretty much earned the right to wander a bit.

On looking for a job part deux (the saddening)

So the job search continues and each day brings a new lesson in humility. I have lowered myself to checking Craiglist. And yes, it is lowering oneself. For one, most jobs expect everything and give nothing back.

Example:
Can you design websites, answer a forty line phone, work overtime, travel, redesign our office, and speak Spanish and Chinese? Don’t bother applying if you can’t work weekends and baby sit the boss’s children while doing all of the above.
Compensation: 8-10.00 and hour

The other discouraging aspect is that you have to reevaluate your life daily. What didn’t fly yesterday may be a fucking okay today. Are you hungry and disappointed enough to be a sign spinner? Would it be awesome or awful if you had to wear a costume with a headpiece while spinning said sign? At least your friends wouldn’t know it’s you, but on the other hand the headpiece might carry that staph infection that started on skid row and county jail. Oh, what to do.

Not that any of it matters anyway. It’s not like after the many, many emailed resumes and cover letters I’ve sent, anyone has responded. Oh, I take that back. I did get one interview, at a collection agency. They worked on commission. So, however many people you could properly scare into paying you, you got a part of it. Not blood money exactly, more like corn syrup and food coloring money. Anyway, I passed, which I kind of regret sometimes, in my potential sign spinner employment moments.

The other job site I have been checking is Careerbuilder. All I have to say is, “Careerbuilder, you are no Monster”. In order to sign up, it’s like a half day temp job, with no pay, natch. After this lengthy beginning, the offers start flowing. Offers like:

Work at home 500 dollars a day, totally legit, just a one time sign up fee. This company is totally legit. We are a housewares company based in England that needs American data entry workers to help us collect payment. Totally easy and totally legit. Did we mention we’re legit? We totes are!!!!!

How does it even work that entering data helps collect debts? The whole pitch reminds me of a trannie hooker with a full beard trying to talk an army guy into getting a blow job. “I’m totally a woman, I swear! This beard is old food stuck to my face. I swear!”

Anyway, I’ll keep plugging away. The only other strategy I can think of is driving around looking for help wanted signs in windows of businesses. Maybe this can be my soundtrack. http://www.sadtrombone.com/ Wish me luck!!

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.

I ended up hanging out in the ER the other night for a few hours and I actually had a pretty good time. My mom had a fall and it is the policy of her assisted living place that you have to go to ER if you faceplant, which she did. When I got there, I pretty much new she was not mortally wounded. The ER was very full and so we did not have a curtained “room”. We ended up in the hall for about six hours. She was in a gurney and I was either standing next her or at the foot of the bed, sitting in a chair. At one point I put an earbud in one of her ears and one in mine and we sang along to Strawberry Fields Forever. But, they didn’t even really do anything for her. It was like we were going through the motions of healthcare, like a performance with no finale. Just sitting in my chair for half an hour, I understood why. They had a lot of more intense shit on their hands than my bruised mom. There was the guy who had apparently stepped in a lot of glass. He was also lying in the hallway. He kept yelling, “I’m not drunk”! Dude, if you are in the ER at midnight on a Sunday yelling about how drunk you are not? Um, you’re totally fucking wasted. Then there was the 22 year old who was curled up in a fetal position on the gurney with his arms wrapped around his head, weeping. He kept wailing, “I took some drugs”. The orderly wheeling him around was trying hard not to laugh. There was also another old man who had not eaten in days and lived alone. They were trying to find somewhere for him to go. That was sad. About every 20 minutes or so a very exasperated voice came over the loudspeaker saying, "I need an environmental waste crew member in room 6". Whatever was going on there required multiple cleanups. I just put my ipod on and watched the parade roll by. I wonder if people ever hang out there. Are there ER groupies? It’s pretty great people watching, as good as the courthouse. I know I need to get a life. I have been known to read the dictionary and the phone book. Seriously.

I once had a grip on everything, it feels better to let go.

Up until a few months ago, I was a working artist. Now, I am looking for a job, pretty much any job and I am also signing up with temp agencies. As we all know, like fight club, the first rule of temping is you do not talk about temping. Am I happy about this turn of events? No, no I am not. But, I am looking for the lesson in it, moving forward, numbing my mind, whatever works. I have not had a “real job” in over 3 years and I have not had a job interview in over 7. Wah wah, I know. Poor sweet baby me.

So, rather than dwelling in the inevitable, I thought I would give some tips on how to save money in this new economy. Even during the fat years, I lived pretty lean, so my lean years are like a celebrity a week before the Oscars; starvation, purging and hourly enemas. So to speak.
Here goes.

1. Bring your lunch to work. You heard me. Yeah I know you like your 6.00 sandwich, your bag of chips, and your peppermint patty, but shit adds up. You are spending minimum 30 bucks a week. Times that times 52. You don’t even want to know. You can still have all of that, just bring it from home. You’ll save bunches, and you’ll get so used to doing it, you won’t remember not doing it. I swear.

2. Stop eating out at restaurants. We have been having friends over for dinner and doing like a potluck. Also, you get to spend more time together without annoying waitpersons hovering over you, trying to get you to spend more money. Another perk is that when you host it, you can get totally blotto without worrying about driving home. Remember the whole numbing your mind thing from two paragraphs ago? Pretty much, yeah.

3. Get rid of all your expensive beauty shit. This one is more for the ladies, but maybe some of you guys have expensive beauty shit too. Big Sur barely uses soap, and I have to remind him to wash his hair, so I don’t have to worry about him. Most of that beauty shit is a scam. It’s regular shit, but scented nicely and packaged expensively. Here’s an example. I have dry skin on my face in the winter. I used to use nice cleanser and moisturizer, back when I had money. Now that I don’t have job, I spread honey all over my face at night. And it works amazingly. Seriously, it’s nature’s damn miracle. As for moisturizer, I put a tiny bit of olive oil on the dry spots. Guess what, practically free and it works really well. The honey thing wouldn’t work for vegans, I guess. But for everyone else, go crazy. Just remember to put your hair back. And maybe skip applying it on the nights when you host the potluck. Drinking and honey facials do not mix. I have learned that shit the hard way. Fo sho!

4. Stop going to the movies. Either rent or download that shit. I’m not saying do anything illegal. Just share what you have with friends, and make them share with you. Who’s to say how many friends you have? Maybe you are really popular, like me, and you have tens of thousands. You don’t? Well that’s sad. You should get some more. They are all over the internet, waiting for you, these friends. Just put download TV shows into google and you will start meeting your new friends toot sweet!

5. Stop using so much shit! By this I mean soap, shampoo, paper towels, toilet paper, electricity, detergent, and water. Also at the risk of sounding like my mother, if you’re cold, put on a damn sweater and close the doors. What are you trying to do? Heat the great state of California?!?

6. Install those fluorescent bulbs. That shit will save you money. Also, you should have already done that like a year ago. Where the hell have you been?

Well, that’s all I have for now. In a few weeks when I’m down to eating my own toenails for protein, I’m sure I’ll come up with a few more. Until then, toodles!

Unsexy adult situations

As I'm typing this I'm watching a small spider go up and down on his web at face level, about a foot away from me. Is it a good spider or a bad spider? I do not know. My usual desire to destroy it is absent. As a friend once said about the mouse living in his house, "he's doing his thing, I'm doing mine".

I haven't written anything in awhile because my life has been full of adult, rated R type situations. Not the sexy kind but rather the sad kind. Who wants to hear about that? The world is currently fucked enough as it is without me adding more sad stories to it.

I will share this though. Today I was doing some research on the internets and the person I was looking for turned up dead. Four years dead as a matter of fact. This was a somewhat older person but they didn't die of a disease, rather they smashed their car into a tractor/trailer on an interstate somewhere in this great (possibly fucked) country. Instant death, violent, shocking.

Full disclosure: I didn't like this person at all. They had done some pretty bad things, but then they turned around and did some pretty good things. So there was some redemption. The situation I was researching for, would have given them another chance to do good. It is sad. But the more I've seen lately (and these past couple of weeks has been full of seeing) the more I think that things like missed redemption matter less than I previously thought. I'm not sure why I think this. I have been feeling the impermanency of all life and it doesn't scare me that much anymore. Maybe I'm depressed, but I don't think so. I think I'm forming some type of faith in a universe that wil keep on spinning regardless of unsquashed spiders or sudden, violent death. Good actions and bad. It's comforting in a fucked up way. But I'm not sure why.

alone I am nameless, fearless and faceless.

So, the day after I wrote that previous doubting paragraph I had a sweet opportunity come my way. Just a reminder to focus on what I want and the things I have accomplished.

I had a funny, fucked up day yesterday. I'll just give the highlights. I had to take my mom out to the doctor and I almost dumped her out of her wheelchair, totally not on purpose (jeez!). Then we got into an argument. There was some swaring, I think, by me. I should be set on fire. Worst daughter ever.

Then I went to a large chain bookstore. It was very crowded because the lead guitarist of K0rn was signing his book. Not to slam on the his fans, but one has to picture the bookshelves this sure to be classic will land on. I'm guessing not next to leatherbound first editions. More likely next to a lot of D&D books, perhaps some books on Majik strategy, and the Big Book of Skulls. A Satanic Bible or two? Anyhoo, I needed help finding a book , I wait in line and I tell the guy behind the desk I'm looking for a book. He says, "Um, I can't really help you with that". However, there is a search kiosk thingy two feet from his right hand. I point this out to him and he says, "Yeah but I don't know how to use it". It says on the screen, "click the mouse to begin searching". Seriously. I ask if I can use it, even though it is slightly more on his side of the counter. He tells me no, and that I have to elbow through the K0rn crowd to go all the way to the information desk, which when I went back there, was unmanned. Where were these do nothing retail jobs when I was in my early 20"s? There's no way I could of gotten away with treating customers like that. I wasn't pissed, I was fucking jealous!

I can say that I hope it will be worth what I give up.

So there's been some doubts and worries lately. The thought that I'm not getting any younger or any richer or further down the road I want to be going down. It's all good though. Part of the process of being a human that takes risks, I guess. I can't say I wasn't warned, just not by anyone I believed in.

I've been watching some shows on you tube lately (no TV here) and two of my faves are the First 48 and Banged Up Abroad. The first one is an A&E show about homicide. Kind of depressing, but also very interesting and when the bad guys get it, it's a fist pumping fuck ya! The other show is British ( I think) and tells firsthand stories (and reenacts them) of people (American and Brits) who were/are imprisoned in other countries. Lots of very naive people drug smuggling, but also a guy on a road trip through South America who gets captured by Colombian rebels. If you wrote his story as fiction, it would be considered over the top. Search for it on the you tube. You won't be sorry. I haven't seen a dull episode yet.

I also spent some time with the true crime genre and I learned some factoids. One is that only paranoid killers remove their victims eyes. Another is the three elements most serial killers have: brain injury, childhood abuse, mental illness. Pretty much most of 'em have the trifecta of doom. Last one: at any given time there are about 100 of them roaming around the U.S. Sweet dreams!