Nothing terribly interesting.  Less than normal. Apologies in advance.

    Well, let's see.  What can I say about today.  Had an interview today about a fact checking position at a golf magazine.  It pays pretty well, but that's because it's freelance, not staff.  Still, it's a job.  I'm hoping works out.  Though i'd still probably prefer to stay at the magazine I'm at right now.  I'm getting more to do these days, and more responsibility.  It's sort of nice to actually be a part of the editorial meetings snf have things to say, and actually contribute tangibly to the magazine.  Still, if they can't put me on staff sometime soon, I'm going to need to quit.  A sense of satisfaction, unfortunately, does not pay the bills.  And I guess i sort of enjoy golf.  But not so much that I want to live it every day. though the magazine does have a good amount of non-golf articles. I'm not sure why they really bother having a music column.  Anyway, it's a pretty new publication, launched last June.  I just don't really want to work in Midtown.  I think my interview went fairly well, though I was a bit wishy-washy about how many days out of the month I wanted to work.   I still have some sort of problem talking to strangers though. I've improved markedly in the last year, but now my voice drops an octave and I speak even more softly than normal.  Maybe he couldn't hear me at all and was just nodding the whole time. Hope not.  Anyway, I think the part of me he was most impressed with was my resume, which I paid Caryn 5 dollars to redue for me.  Of course, I spent the last two days trying to print it in the city, to no avail.  So I had to do it sneakily at work today, because I didn't want anyone to know I was going to an interview.  So I printed it out fine, then 10 mintues later, the other intern there, who I told about the interview, walks out with one of our bosses and is like "Yeah, Greg has an interview today. He's got resumes and everything." "Really? Where?" asked my boss. "Some golf magazine," is what I said, though what I was really saying was "you stupid motherfucker!"  I mean, I guess I don't really care that they know, but it really wasn't this guy's business to go broadcasting it all over the office. It's not like he was trying to fuck me up or anything. He just doesn't know better. No tact.
    Oh yeah, I also got a call today from a woman named Geraldine.  She apparently has seen my resume that I dropped off at a job fair with Caryn a few months ago, and she wants me to call her tomorrow.  So that's sort of encouraging. And intriguing.  It's intriguing because she's calling from Woman's Day Special Interest Publications.  Not exactly sure how I fit in there. maybe they need a roving male columnist.  If it was actually a steady writing gig, I'd take it in a second.  though I'm sure it's just an editorial assistance position or something like that.  But I'm curious to find out.  Anyway, the hint of employment prospects and slow moves forward career-wise has me feeling sort of optimistic. though characteristically a guarded sort of optimism.  Damn my sense of ironic foreshadowing.
    I just want to get a job and then go to Texas for a few days.

    that's about it for today, except that I saw a movie with Jen.  But I'll discuss that ad nauseum on a later day.  Let's talk about yesterday.
    Took a cab into the city with Geoff.  After I couldn't print my resume, I walked around in the cold for a while, then went to Starbucks at Astor Place to use the bathroom.  Had some coffee, read more of my Vonnegut book.  Then I walked over to St. Marks place, with no particular destination in mind.  I figured I'd meet geoff for dinner, but still had a few hours to kill, and not much to do.  Bought a comic book on St. Marks, and decided to just continue walking east.  Once the park got in my way, I headed north and ended up at an East Village coffee house.  Nice coffee and pastry.  Very cozy.  Sat there for about an hour drinking coffee and reading my book.  hadn't eaten anything all day, so I had to pee furiously several times.

    Then i went up to Union Square's Circuit city, and bought the Beatles 1 cd, and the DVD of The Princess Bride.  Top Ten, definitely.  And I didn't own any Beatles cds, and that seemed really wrong to me.  So that cd seemed like a good choice.  Met up with Geoff, had a big sushi dinner at Yama on Irving Pl.  stopped at the Food Emporium, where I finally found this cheese I'd been looking for for three weeks (fontinella), and came home. Talked with Matt for a little bit.  He's constantly perturbed that almost none of the conversations we have make it into the journal, even though they're probably the most amusing and enjoyable conversations I have.  They're also among the most crass, disgusting, vulgar, and truly fucking sick dialogues I've ever witnessed in my life, fact or fiction.  So yes, self-censorship.  But here's a benign, yet amusing tale, that matt calls the "Seven Wilmas" story.  Apparently, when Matt was a wee lad, he couldn't find his parents anywhere. Not wanting to go on living without them, and with a flair for the dramatic even at that young age, he decided he should just kill himself rather than live as an orphan (he has some crazy relatives, who's care he probably would have been left in.  this is my own editorial, not part of his story).  Anyway, his method of suicide: Flintstones vitamins.  His dose: Seven Wilmas.  He said he only liked the cherry ones.  Anyhow, eventually his parents showed up, and didn't seem too concerned that matt had eaten seven wilmas.  What's in those, anyway? Iron? Niacin?  Anyway, I thought "Seven Wilmas" would make a good band name.
    Anyhow,
this whole thing is getting tedious.
So, moving right along...

    I used to write stupid little poems here a lot. Those were back in my more whimsical days.  Here's one:

I sent a note,
with no return postage.
Cliched is what I wrote,
double the usual dosage

Hmmm.

By the way, James, in the guise of his unfortunately named rock guy Bird Ealry ,is playing a show down at our favorite bar, Great Lakes, on 5th Ave and 1st St., this Thursday, the 18th.  I'm excited about that.  Like the bar, like James, like his music.  So he'll have the hometown crowd there behind him.  We can probably deliver at least 4 people.

Here's something a lot of journalers do that I don't particularly care for.  But this was such shite, I might as well sum it up.

Listening to: Stereolab- "Metronomic Underground"
Mood:  mildly pleasant.
Adjectives: constantly being modified.
 

DA&R home
Past Aggravations and Regrets
previous |  next
South Pole Home

©2001 Three Match Breeze