one vice for another... & indulgent hypocrites.
I'm making an extra 100 a day in cash and find myself strolling down 5th avenue in my free time doing none other than spending. People find it taboo to talk about money and how much they make. I don't care. However, I will tell you something, I do not stand around and do nothing (the servers like to assume this), four lines are going off at once while I have one party's perfumed coats swung over my left arm, and I'm being yelled at in my left ear by a manager to hang those up already as my right ear is trying to focus on hearing the person trying to make a reservation on the line one month in advance since 'we fill up so fast', oh and more people, parties, whateverhaveyou are marching through the door, in FURS no less, cascades of huge black rancid mink draped over their arms demanding that I help them while I am helping those who arrived before them. It's meaningless work, but it's stress inducing, you'd think I'd need a xanax to cope, but really one thing I am learning is that I work damn well under pressure, despite my anxiety, I find myself calming other hostesses down inside of the coat room, relax, it's going to be okay, they're just coats!
(this is where I go off track but I come back... I'm seeing fur so much it's igniting a daily train of thought)
Those fucking ugly minks, how many they killed just to make those ugly coats and nobody even ate their meat, which I find to be the main disgrace. I will confess I recently saw the most beautiful coat I have ever seen in my life, and sadly to me the entire collar consisted of raccoon fur. I was surprised actually only because I typically find this type of outerwear to be rather hideous, but the rest of this coat was made of leather pieces that were stitched together in a criss-crossed pattern, it looked like something a warrior princess would wear. It was bloody primitive in appearance. I thought to myself; I could never buy this coat for financial and moral reasons alike, yet I do eat meat, but if I were a true warrior princess see, I would have made my own kill. I would have hunted, fed, and utilized the rest. I would not eat raccoon so there is no need to wear raccoon. At least I don't think I would eat raccoon? I'm trained to eat the meat that is not only certified American society acceptible, but also NYC acceptible, since in states like Louisiana they hunt their own squirrels. I think that's just fine, really. This is what I believe in. I have never believed it was wrong to hunt for food, not for sport. Other animals do it. I have little clear personal definition over what is truly right or wrong, however a waste is a waste, and that I do not promote nor agree with. I do not agree with unnecessary abuse either which is why if I was evolved enough as a human being I would quit eating meat. I will never forget that truck full of cows on our drive through Texas. The stench was so overwhelming I couldn't look away, although my insistence in remaining within my city-girl naivety kept urging Alex to drive as far passed them as he could, as fast as he could. I wanted to get away from the unsightly display because it tore me into two pieces. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to take on a certain position in life yet, although I question myself since. They were all packed inside of the truck like sardines covered in their own feces. I wonder why their torture has to be prolonged. It's 'cost-effective', they say. If we want meat we should venture out and snag it with spears. Even if it's a painful slow death, at least there might have been a fight, less humiliation. Sometimes I wonder had Native American culture thrived on its own here what might have become of them through the years. Does everyone eventually just want to make more bang for their buck? I've educated myself of what goes on within farms and slaughterhouses and in this I am a hypocrite, because I simply enjoy the taste of meat, but I am trying to at least deny what I can. Give me a steak dinner and give me my leather boots so at least I know they come from the same animal. I wonder if all vegetarians who label themselves so in regard to animal rights also steer away from leather.
Granted it is Christmas I will be a bit generous, however indulging has become a very bad habit of mine. I'm not saving at all because I have to use my paycheck for what's necessary. This is ridiculous. I never thought I would make so much money as a god damn hostess, though I guess when you have random astronomically famous people like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt drop by for a meal such a thing is possible. I bought the plushest robe I've ever felt at my fingertips so I wear it now sipping red wine while taking bites of chocolate. Simple pleasures and comforts that numb the pain of having to compromise myself every day. I get a kick out of the atmosphere gone awry so much that I actually stage these little conflicts. I like to switch the usual playlist on our restaurant laptop of elevator jazz to violent hip hop. God knows why it's even there but I get a small kick out of observing everyone's bewilderment over the new noise blaring through the restaurant. I fuck with the lights so we have minor and temporary blackouts and it's a shame that this is what I have to amuse myself with. Typically quiet and reserved me is having trouble restraining her mouth nowadays. These sullen fours can be rather obnoxious with their beliefs and when they feel compromised. And so I'm angry with everyone but above all angry at myself for needing the money this badly, for not yet being a successful novelist who gets to travel constantly. I'm angry at myself so I use that extra and unexpected money to indulge a little, but it's becoming an addiction. I'm becoming as disgusted of myself as I am with them.
(this is where I go off track but I come back... I'm seeing fur so much it's igniting a daily train of thought)
Those fucking ugly minks, how many they killed just to make those ugly coats and nobody even ate their meat, which I find to be the main disgrace. I will confess I recently saw the most beautiful coat I have ever seen in my life, and sadly to me the entire collar consisted of raccoon fur. I was surprised actually only because I typically find this type of outerwear to be rather hideous, but the rest of this coat was made of leather pieces that were stitched together in a criss-crossed pattern, it looked like something a warrior princess would wear. It was bloody primitive in appearance. I thought to myself; I could never buy this coat for financial and moral reasons alike, yet I do eat meat, but if I were a true warrior princess see, I would have made my own kill. I would have hunted, fed, and utilized the rest. I would not eat raccoon so there is no need to wear raccoon. At least I don't think I would eat raccoon? I'm trained to eat the meat that is not only certified American society acceptible, but also NYC acceptible, since in states like Louisiana they hunt their own squirrels. I think that's just fine, really. This is what I believe in. I have never believed it was wrong to hunt for food, not for sport. Other animals do it. I have little clear personal definition over what is truly right or wrong, however a waste is a waste, and that I do not promote nor agree with. I do not agree with unnecessary abuse either which is why if I was evolved enough as a human being I would quit eating meat. I will never forget that truck full of cows on our drive through Texas. The stench was so overwhelming I couldn't look away, although my insistence in remaining within my city-girl naivety kept urging Alex to drive as far passed them as he could, as fast as he could. I wanted to get away from the unsightly display because it tore me into two pieces. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to take on a certain position in life yet, although I question myself since. They were all packed inside of the truck like sardines covered in their own feces. I wonder why their torture has to be prolonged. It's 'cost-effective', they say. If we want meat we should venture out and snag it with spears. Even if it's a painful slow death, at least there might have been a fight, less humiliation. Sometimes I wonder had Native American culture thrived on its own here what might have become of them through the years. Does everyone eventually just want to make more bang for their buck? I've educated myself of what goes on within farms and slaughterhouses and in this I am a hypocrite, because I simply enjoy the taste of meat, but I am trying to at least deny what I can. Give me a steak dinner and give me my leather boots so at least I know they come from the same animal. I wonder if all vegetarians who label themselves so in regard to animal rights also steer away from leather.
Granted it is Christmas I will be a bit generous, however indulging has become a very bad habit of mine. I'm not saving at all because I have to use my paycheck for what's necessary. This is ridiculous. I never thought I would make so much money as a god damn hostess, though I guess when you have random astronomically famous people like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt drop by for a meal such a thing is possible. I bought the plushest robe I've ever felt at my fingertips so I wear it now sipping red wine while taking bites of chocolate. Simple pleasures and comforts that numb the pain of having to compromise myself every day. I get a kick out of the atmosphere gone awry so much that I actually stage these little conflicts. I like to switch the usual playlist on our restaurant laptop of elevator jazz to violent hip hop. God knows why it's even there but I get a small kick out of observing everyone's bewilderment over the new noise blaring through the restaurant. I fuck with the lights so we have minor and temporary blackouts and it's a shame that this is what I have to amuse myself with. Typically quiet and reserved me is having trouble restraining her mouth nowadays. These sullen fours can be rather obnoxious with their beliefs and when they feel compromised. And so I'm angry with everyone but above all angry at myself for needing the money this badly, for not yet being a successful novelist who gets to travel constantly. I'm angry at myself so I use that extra and unexpected money to indulge a little, but it's becoming an addiction. I'm becoming as disgusted of myself as I am with them.