(no subject)
"Stay away from human beings, but feel free to embrace those human emotions"
My dad has not been answering any of his 3 phone lines the past couple of days...it's alarming. I need him to send me tax information, and i cannot get a hold of him.
I'm no longer broke, as the transaction finally went through and i have $1400 in my bank account again. But that is going to shrivel up rather quickly, so my job hunt continues. More interviews and phone calls today.
My interview yesterday with a few catering companies didn't go so well. I love how they test potential employees patience by being complete douchebags. At one of the places the lady complained of me "going in the wrong entrance" (despite the one i went in was because the door was wide open). And then she withheld a pen from me because apparently i was supposed to bring my own pen.
Oh yeah i sure hope i get to work there.
Anyway...to Stephanie, and Lyra, and...i guess those are the only people who read my journal that i saw this past weekend. I hope that we are still on for the beach this weekend, and i am insisting that i be a driver...i'm far too anal about riding with other people to do it 3 times in one month.
Umm...aside from all of this...my general overall mood has become inspired but stuck; and determined yet deterred.
I've had more great script, and painting ideas in the past month or so than i have had in any half-a-year span that i can remember...but because of the broke-ness and the shitty nature of my computer i have been unable to continue on with any of these new ideas that are bursting from my cranium. While on the other hand i have been dreaming a lot lately, and i keep seing myself in these situations that i find romantic. Situations that a normal human being would say "that's just an everyday situiation" but i find it to be ultimately beautiful and something that i am beginning to miss quite greatly.
For example: I'm up at the butt-crack of dawn on my way to work 4 hours of prep cooking at my "real job". And once my time is done there, i spend the next 12 hours of my day writting, tweeking, motivating, producing, and overall directing my most recent film idea. This 16 hour day leaves me tired, but nowhere near spent. And so i hope on the subway and have a conversation with the homeless man and the Somalian immigrant about public relations, the weather, and our favorite kinds of specialty bread.
And finally i tread my way up the steps to street level, to see my brick-faced abode covered in graffiti, and the fire escape rusted and pulled down nonchalantly. And once i enter my passcode into the security system i am buzzed in through the 3-door hallway and i dry my wet shoes on the carpet and check my mail. It's bills, and flyers, and an ad for the latest mattress...and for a brief moment i think of sleep...but it goes away in a flash as i catch the scent.
I run up the spiral, cast-iron, rattling staircase 3-at-a-time, and my door is already unlocked. I ready my bag of equipment like a peasant wielding a homemade weapon, and once i cross the threshold i immediately drop it all on the over-priced carpet i bought from some well-known urban designer.
I kick off my shoes, and let my argyle's glide smoothly across the freshly waxed-and-stained wood floor. I was going for a caramel-mahogany feel, but it came out like burnt cherrywood. I scurry my way to the bathroom and take a miniscule shower. 5 minutes at the most. Just enough to wash away the bad of the day, and clean up the good of the day for presentation.
And when i come out, rising wet with steam, there is a freshly made cup of Apple-Cinamon tea sitting for me on the counter next to a plate of leftover Chique D'vant that i had made 2 nights earlier.
So i get dressed in the hallway, and cherish my hot tea. The leftover food isn't warmed all the way through, but it almost adds an entire new texture that is exciting. And i move my way to the couch with a trail of wet footsteps following me, and slowly dissipating. I plop down on the couch and she's lying upside down on it. Her feet are hanging over the backrest, and he head is dangling close to the floor with the very tips of her hair mopping it up (and undoubtedly getting filthy in the process). She is reading a new book with a black cover and raised red font, and eating a granola bar. She is tall, and slender just like myself, and her hair growns progressively darker from root to tip. It is ever-so-slightly curled, and her lips are full and in no need of make-up. She is wearing leg-warmers and the black leggings of her unitard show...as she just came from one of her many dance classes. She also has a lovely paint-stained workshirt the is cut and rolled in various places...and specifically on the left shoulder to taunt me by flaunting her perfectly protuding, and symmetrical collarbone and the darkened birthmark that lies just above it.
She says nothing to me...just kicking my shoulder each time she flips to the next page until i've finished eating.
And the next thing i know it is midnight, and we are drawing on each others bodies with the newest edible markers.
Who needs sleep?
Yeah...THAT is what i've been dreaming of lately.
My dad has not been answering any of his 3 phone lines the past couple of days...it's alarming. I need him to send me tax information, and i cannot get a hold of him.
I'm no longer broke, as the transaction finally went through and i have $1400 in my bank account again. But that is going to shrivel up rather quickly, so my job hunt continues. More interviews and phone calls today.
My interview yesterday with a few catering companies didn't go so well. I love how they test potential employees patience by being complete douchebags. At one of the places the lady complained of me "going in the wrong entrance" (despite the one i went in was because the door was wide open). And then she withheld a pen from me because apparently i was supposed to bring my own pen.
Oh yeah i sure hope i get to work there.
Anyway...to Stephanie, and Lyra, and...i guess those are the only people who read my journal that i saw this past weekend. I hope that we are still on for the beach this weekend, and i am insisting that i be a driver...i'm far too anal about riding with other people to do it 3 times in one month.
Umm...aside from all of this...my general overall mood has become inspired but stuck; and determined yet deterred.
I've had more great script, and painting ideas in the past month or so than i have had in any half-a-year span that i can remember...but because of the broke-ness and the shitty nature of my computer i have been unable to continue on with any of these new ideas that are bursting from my cranium. While on the other hand i have been dreaming a lot lately, and i keep seing myself in these situations that i find romantic. Situations that a normal human being would say "that's just an everyday situiation" but i find it to be ultimately beautiful and something that i am beginning to miss quite greatly.
For example: I'm up at the butt-crack of dawn on my way to work 4 hours of prep cooking at my "real job". And once my time is done there, i spend the next 12 hours of my day writting, tweeking, motivating, producing, and overall directing my most recent film idea. This 16 hour day leaves me tired, but nowhere near spent. And so i hope on the subway and have a conversation with the homeless man and the Somalian immigrant about public relations, the weather, and our favorite kinds of specialty bread.
And finally i tread my way up the steps to street level, to see my brick-faced abode covered in graffiti, and the fire escape rusted and pulled down nonchalantly. And once i enter my passcode into the security system i am buzzed in through the 3-door hallway and i dry my wet shoes on the carpet and check my mail. It's bills, and flyers, and an ad for the latest mattress...and for a brief moment i think of sleep...but it goes away in a flash as i catch the scent.
I run up the spiral, cast-iron, rattling staircase 3-at-a-time, and my door is already unlocked. I ready my bag of equipment like a peasant wielding a homemade weapon, and once i cross the threshold i immediately drop it all on the over-priced carpet i bought from some well-known urban designer.
I kick off my shoes, and let my argyle's glide smoothly across the freshly waxed-and-stained wood floor. I was going for a caramel-mahogany feel, but it came out like burnt cherrywood. I scurry my way to the bathroom and take a miniscule shower. 5 minutes at the most. Just enough to wash away the bad of the day, and clean up the good of the day for presentation.
And when i come out, rising wet with steam, there is a freshly made cup of Apple-Cinamon tea sitting for me on the counter next to a plate of leftover Chique D'vant that i had made 2 nights earlier.
So i get dressed in the hallway, and cherish my hot tea. The leftover food isn't warmed all the way through, but it almost adds an entire new texture that is exciting. And i move my way to the couch with a trail of wet footsteps following me, and slowly dissipating. I plop down on the couch and she's lying upside down on it. Her feet are hanging over the backrest, and he head is dangling close to the floor with the very tips of her hair mopping it up (and undoubtedly getting filthy in the process). She is reading a new book with a black cover and raised red font, and eating a granola bar. She is tall, and slender just like myself, and her hair growns progressively darker from root to tip. It is ever-so-slightly curled, and her lips are full and in no need of make-up. She is wearing leg-warmers and the black leggings of her unitard show...as she just came from one of her many dance classes. She also has a lovely paint-stained workshirt the is cut and rolled in various places...and specifically on the left shoulder to taunt me by flaunting her perfectly protuding, and symmetrical collarbone and the darkened birthmark that lies just above it.
She says nothing to me...just kicking my shoulder each time she flips to the next page until i've finished eating.
And the next thing i know it is midnight, and we are drawing on each others bodies with the newest edible markers.
Who needs sleep?
Yeah...THAT is what i've been dreaming of lately.