Two Years Ago

    I was lying at the foot of my bed, watching bad tv, feeling all groggy and wondering what I was gonna do.  And there it was.  My mug with a bunny rabbit catching jelly beans with an umbrella.  I broke a mub just like it the other night, and I thought that was the last of those mugs.  I brought them from home, and they've been sort of nice to have around.  I didn't really notice them until Jen said something about the fact that the picture on the mug was a rabitt catching jelly beans that were falling from the sky in an inverted umbrella.  "I don't get it." i think is what she usually says.  Anyway, I broke one the other day in the bathroom. I guess Jed had left it in there, and I used it to attack matt with scalding hot water.  Anyway, I thought that was the only one I had left.  So I as pleasantly surprised to roll over yawning and see this other mug sitting on my guitar amp.  Sort of a movie moment in my mind, like it was some sort of symbol.  That's a good bit of romanticizing, but it did get me up and about. And it did seem sort of fitting, being Easter and all. But that thought came way later.

    Anyway, it's been a beautiful two days in New York.  Bright and sunny and balmy.  One of the nice things about Matt being in town is his access to a car.  A nice weekend to be driving around.  Anyway, i went with him to the gym yesterday for the second time, and got some excercise for a change. I'm pretty weak.  But to tell you the truth, i don't really care what kind of shape I'm in, as long as i look ok.  Though i can't really say that i do.  I could go on and on, but that wouldn't do either of us any good.  So...
    After the gym, we called Jen and told her we'd come pick her up since we were all going back to Brooklyn.  I called Big Nick's on the way and ordered a shepard's pie, which was ready just as we got up to 75th st.  So then we picked up Jen and had a really long and frustrating ride back to Brooklyn. There was really no way around the traffic.  I thought the West Side highway would be jam packed, so we ended up driving through the heart of Times Square.  That was interesting.  Anyway, it took us a little over an hour to get to my apartment.  Still, if we'd taken the trains, it probably would've been about the same time door to door. And I'd rather spend an hour in a car than half an hour on the subway.
    So we had a small belated birthday party for me yesterday.  I actually wasn't really in the mood to have a party after getting back from the city. I was just tired. But I figured it'd be rude to cancel, since it was my idea and people were coming over.  I told people to start coming at 9, and aroun 8:50 I was finishing my shepard's pie, which was a mistake, by the way, and the apartment was still a mess and we had nothing to drink whatsoever.  So I went down to 7th Ave. with Jed and got some beers at Rite Aid.  When we got back, Jen had done a pretty good quick clean-up job.  What a gal.  So then Caryn and Nate showed up, I jumped in the shower, jumped out, and then started to "party."  It was a fairly small affair.  We had the drum kit set up from the night before, but that as used spairingly.  Actually, the most fun that was had all night was probably when about six of us adjorned outside after Jed found a hacky sack.  We spent a lot of time freshman year in college sacking.  Last time I tried it a few months ago, I almost collapsed my spine after jumping and landing wrong.  It took us about half an hour out on the street before we actually got a hack where everyone got a kick in.  At one point kathy and her friend showed up and went inside. There was probably only one or two people in the apartment at that time.  We were too caught up in the pursuit of a six-person hack to quit then.  After about an hour, we gave up.  But it was amusing.

      Toward the end of the night, Jed tried to tell us all about something that happened to him in 8th grade.  it was amusing, and at times hilarious, but at certain points I absolutely coulnd not believe how much time had passed and how little of the story he had actually told.  95 percent of the information was backstory and last names of people and all this other shit.  Speaking of weird shit, the last two times we've had parties here, Matt's made it a point to tell everybody that they should go into Jed's room and pick up a random piece of paper.  Because inevitably  "it'll be the weirdest, most random shit scrawled on it."  jed's room is looking sort of like a looney house right now.  it's a mess, with clothes all over the place.  And he's got some print outs of something all over the floor.  They're all in courier font, with select words in bold print.  And with the messy condition of the room and the papers scattered about, they look like a madman's manifesto, particularly because of the bold-faced words.  Anyway, matt picked up a piece of paper, and laughed hysterically as he read "Gus's Pickles.  Between delancey and essex streets."  I picked up a random scrap with an address written on it, with a little note Jed wrote to himself that said "Call Mark if security requires it."  I'm not making this up.  He's really weird.  Gus's Pickles?

    Anyway, a generally pleasant evening.  Best of all, i didn't spend a lot of money.  And Caryn and Nate brought me lots of cheese.  And Kathy brought me a cake from Chinatown.  Here's a dirty secret- I really don't like Chinese cakes.  I know they're supposed to be really good, and whenever my parents get them they always say how great they are, but I just can't really eat them.  They're just like regular cakes, but a bit spongier.  Too moist.  I guess I just like the cheap supermarket cakes.  Jen and I went out looking for one of those on my birthday, but couldn't find one.  Not one that matched what I was really looking for. I guess you can only really get them in the suburbs.  The lower the quality, the better.    That's a Greg sort of statement if I've ever heard one.
 
 

    In the anxiety department, there are a lot of things off there in the not-too-distant future, of which I've just begun to start getting freaked out about.  I leave for San Francisco on Saturday, but I really need to find a job.  It just makes it tough that I'll be out of town for 10 days.  I need money, but I can't really make any before I go.  If the fucking magazine that owes me now 1300 dollars would fucking pay me, that'd get me through the west coast trip and maybe a few weeks after.  the more I think about it, the more fucking pissed off I'm getting. I'm just stewing in absolute hatred over those fucks.  I don't know why i spent all night a week ago writing this goddam story for them.  And I got totally dicked when they gave me the freelancer's contract.  1500 words for 500 bucks?  First of all, i handed them 2800 words, so I was at the very, VERY least expecting 1000 dollars.  Maybe edit it down to 2000 and screw me by paying me 50 cents a word.  But 33 cents a word?  That's pretty much a slap in the face.  I know for a fact that they usually pay- or I should say tell writers they'll pay- a dollar a word.  one of my fucking intern jobs was faxing out the contracts.  And at the very least it was a dollar a word.  So they figure they've been taking advantage of me for seven months, why not just keep it going? I'm the fool for sticking around.  Sure, it's been great that I've got a lot of bylines to show for it, but enough is enough.  I need that fucking money. And whenever I go in I get told that no one has gotten there money. Like that's supposed to make me feel better? Fuck them.  Ok, I'm getting all worked up.
    Though I'm really excited to be going to San Francisco. never been. We're going to Las Vegas first.  My former roommate Dan is getting hitched, and the bachelor party sort of thingy is in Vegas.  In a perfect world, the vegas leg would wind of paying for the whole trip.  I'm not greedy. If I could just win a few hundred bucks to cover the cost of going out there, that'd be fantastic.  Anyway, I'm also looking forward to renting a car and driving from vegas to SF.  Then a week in San Francisco.

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