The Car man died today, sources say it was either complications from a terrifying, uncurable disease or bears. We will always remember his laugh. he had a smile you could hear over the phone. his advice was so good that even the bears and snow tigers would circle him and listen. even if the motherfuckers couldn't spell carburetor. this ultimately may have been his undoing, his doolittlian explanations of transmissions to the greater carnivores.
if you cannot stop them from eating your deer, if you cannot stop them from battling coyotes, if you cannot stop them from knocking over your trash cans, why would you think your children are safe?
in a disney version of the homeless park the animals are dancing and singing. the realtors demand clean glass. another panicked email from democrats, linking the Car man's death to GOP policies, linking the wire-haired metal man's death to GOP policies, linking rising towers of beaver pelts to GOP policies, linking arms and singing evil disco at the vigil.
there is always a vigil. all of these candles won't take back bullets. all of these bullets won't take back ballots. all of these ballots won't take back the hordes of tigers unleashed upon the parks and gardens. here we thought they were endangered.
obviously there's coffee, but if you cannot stop drinking coffee, can you stop drinking whiskey? and if you can't stop drinking whiskey, can you ever stop driving home at 6 in the morning to your tire-flattened trailer park home shrieking along to dying crowws? and if you can't stop the shrieking, can you stop dousing yourself in paint thinner and plastering yourself to the Today's Pop Hits billboard in an energetic, but ultimately derivative performance art piece? and if you can't stop that, who are you to criticize the arsonists who make a living from their fires?
send in your ballot. vote yes for bear control, for all it can do. they eat babies, you know. and give you alzheimers.
Showing posts with label graham isaac's gotta get paid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label graham isaac's gotta get paid. Show all posts
Monday, 3 November 2014
Saturday, 17 May 2014
Walking isn't always walking.
Tomorrow I am working a men's fashion show. I haven't changed careers, there just happens to be a men's fashion show at Lotties, and as such I was asked by my supervisor to "try to look cute, for once." For me this will mean that I probably put on blazer, and throw some goo in my hair to dewispify it. Plausibly shave. Oh! The effort.
For the record: I have walked in one fashion show, in my life, it was fun, I wish I'd gotten to keep the suit.
Here are some cool things! One is a strange and mesmerizing story about a bathtub over at Wonder and Risk. Another is the simple fact that Ryan A. Johnson is writing again, and well. Keeping up with George Parrotian narratives, while sharpening the prose-poem technique. Paul E. Nelson wrote a fairly comprehensive review of the Cascadia Poetry Festival. I didn't make all the panels, but the mainstage stuff I saw was engaging and interesting, the bookfair was cool and the events I helped throw together went mainly pretty smooth. A more comprehensive review on my part is, I think, probably not necessary.
The sun is out and from this library view Seattle looks as sci-fi as it ever has, ever growing more so.
For the record: I have walked in one fashion show, in my life, it was fun, I wish I'd gotten to keep the suit.
Here are some cool things! One is a strange and mesmerizing story about a bathtub over at Wonder and Risk. Another is the simple fact that Ryan A. Johnson is writing again, and well. Keeping up with George Parrotian narratives, while sharpening the prose-poem technique. Paul E. Nelson wrote a fairly comprehensive review of the Cascadia Poetry Festival. I didn't make all the panels, but the mainstage stuff I saw was engaging and interesting, the bookfair was cool and the events I helped throw together went mainly pretty smooth. A more comprehensive review on my part is, I think, probably not necessary.
The sun is out and from this library view Seattle looks as sci-fi as it ever has, ever growing more so.
Friday, 17 January 2014
I'll see your "do what you love" and raise you one "that's why they call it work, kid."
So lately a variety of people have posted this article about the culture of unpaid arts and academic work, and while Slate is increasingly becoming about as reliable and readable as Salon, the article (which was originally posted on Jacobin, natch) nicely articulates a lot of frustrations I have with the culture around writing, arts organizing, and "getting involved." The writer does a decent job of balancing practical and philosophical concerns, and while the author (wisely) doesn't propose a practical solution to the free-work/dismissal of labor problem, I like the ways-of-thinking suggestions in the last paragraph.
Because while a lot of the internship/volunteer/lowpay positions came into existence because of economic realities surrounding pursuits of artistic, spiritual, or intangible value, they are increasingly re-enforced by a sorta beatific, pie-in-the-sky mentality truly available to only a few. The human soul needs to be nourished, but folks tend to nourish the body first. So unlike nurses and mousetrap-makers, most people with any type of say, humanities degree, won't always have a market for their work.
I think the do-what-you-love-and-it-isn't-work paradigm ironically creates a self-love/self-loathing hamster wheel for artists, writers, designers, researchers, who don't feel they have any "real" skills, yet also see themselves as elevated by "pursuing their passions" after years of having their professors tell them to. (or you know, years of following the blog of an oil heiress who decided to quit her job and "make a living" selling necklaces made out of chicken feathers while practicing a self-invented form of yoga and tutting disapprovingly at those in the "rat race.")
There's a longer discussion here with regards to ideas about what it means to be "serious about your art" that tends to get caught up in these pinwheels as well.
At this point I've made an evolving, uneasy peace with ways I pursue my art, ways I pursue my livelihood, and how often the two do or don't intersect. Every individual has to do that on their own; I sort of figured on getting a Creative Writing Degree that bartending, or record store working (ha!) was going to figure heavily in my future.
This is why I roll my eyes at the precious snowflackes who complain that they just "aren't being fullfilled" or feel like they "just, you know, want something more. . ." from their work. I mean, if a job sucks, yeah, get outta there, go for the promotion, etc. but sometimes work is just, you know, work. And that's fine.
Necessary, even.
Because while a lot of the internship/volunteer/lowpay positions came into existence because of economic realities surrounding pursuits of artistic, spiritual, or intangible value, they are increasingly re-enforced by a sorta beatific, pie-in-the-sky mentality truly available to only a few. The human soul needs to be nourished, but folks tend to nourish the body first. So unlike nurses and mousetrap-makers, most people with any type of say, humanities degree, won't always have a market for their work.
I think the do-what-you-love-and-it-isn't-work paradigm ironically creates a self-love/self-loathing hamster wheel for artists, writers, designers, researchers, who don't feel they have any "real" skills, yet also see themselves as elevated by "pursuing their passions" after years of having their professors tell them to. (or you know, years of following the blog of an oil heiress who decided to quit her job and "make a living" selling necklaces made out of chicken feathers while practicing a self-invented form of yoga and tutting disapprovingly at those in the "rat race.")
There's a longer discussion here with regards to ideas about what it means to be "serious about your art" that tends to get caught up in these pinwheels as well.
At this point I've made an evolving, uneasy peace with ways I pursue my art, ways I pursue my livelihood, and how often the two do or don't intersect. Every individual has to do that on their own; I sort of figured on getting a Creative Writing Degree that bartending, or record store working (ha!) was going to figure heavily in my future.
This is why I roll my eyes at the precious snowflackes who complain that they just "aren't being fullfilled" or feel like they "just, you know, want something more. . ." from their work. I mean, if a job sucks, yeah, get outta there, go for the promotion, etc. but sometimes work is just, you know, work. And that's fine.
Necessary, even.
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
At the End of a Quarter, Everything Goes Slow
There is nearly nothing to say about the last day at the loft. I rarely get not-working guilt-feels, but today I turned in my time sheet an hour short because of how little actual work I've done. To the future.
Saturday, 8 October 2011
Terrible seconds turn to days and still I cannot show my face
at some point I post blog full on about the new bartending job vs. the current bartending job and old bartending job and its all likely made of venn diagrams and photos of women holding beers at chest level.
nonetheless: Hillman City is like the southend equivalent of Crown Hill. Not. Ballard. (columbia city.) But, as everything in the southend is basically facing south, you have orient things that way. the potential-new-regular got the joke, even as for the fifth time in the evening a man got up to exhort the crowd on the virtues of Merle Haggard (not hating, btw) and I wondered. Things.
Ín plainspeak, I've meant to post many great things to here, to buddyhead, to whatever media source most speaks to you, but I am now working three jobs and will probably have to move again soon.
so, it's 330 am, I'm just under an hour off a 15 hour work day and no sleep in sight, unless this Elysian Loser Ale kicks in soon. Oh, Grunge, the things you gave us will always carry the ghosts of things you took away.
me five years ago, two years from now/fuck it, here's an old song.
nonetheless: Hillman City is like the southend equivalent of Crown Hill. Not. Ballard. (columbia city.) But, as everything in the southend is basically facing south, you have orient things that way. the potential-new-regular got the joke, even as for the fifth time in the evening a man got up to exhort the crowd on the virtues of Merle Haggard (not hating, btw) and I wondered. Things.
Ín plainspeak, I've meant to post many great things to here, to buddyhead, to whatever media source most speaks to you, but I am now working three jobs and will probably have to move again soon.
so, it's 330 am, I'm just under an hour off a 15 hour work day and no sleep in sight, unless this Elysian Loser Ale kicks in soon. Oh, Grunge, the things you gave us will always carry the ghosts of things you took away.
me five years ago, two years from now/fuck it, here's an old song.
Friday, 26 August 2011
Petty Pains of Modern Life and Why White Zombie are the Best Band Ever
Recent life in Bullet-List Form
>>> Brielle, youngest of the bio-sisters, is somewhere in the midwest (not colorado, har har) right now, highwaying her way closer to Chicago,
where she'll study art and writing at the Art Institute of Chicago. The absence there is palpable, rather than symbolic, as I've been living in the same house as her the last year and a half.
******> Soon that will change. Investigating (limited) housing options now. They include beacon hill, chinatown (ostensibly), capitol district (what I'm calling that space between Pine and Jefferson and 12th and 20th that is literally Central District but increasingly co-opted by 'hillsters) or probably places in suburbs that are affordable but far away from everyone i know and everything I want to do.
>work. have had little luck/fucked up my interviews for full-time jobs. stop that, brain. >still, some digging and pestering have yielded some freelance tutoring opps, some freelance blurb-writing opps that are still in-process.
in.
process.
this is the frustrating part; waiting for writing samples to be cleared, etc, before I can go full-bore. Things I would have been more confident in before a summer of job-hunting. Confidence is key. Irony.<<<<<<<<
(Not much to do but keep at it. Dig in. Make it part of you until it doesn't have to be. All sorts of mantras to make the demoralizing slog of Craigslist and numbing rigor of cover letters into some sort of arch-masculine chest-pound.)
!!!!Tonight, however, Jake Tucker and I will drown our respective (and very different "sorrows" in beer at various town-based places and then I do a gig with Cristina Bautista's new band and Police Teeth, whom have been mentioned here before as fine individuals and purveyors of good-time, rootsy folk music, which is the best type of music for humans to make. Here is them covering White Zombie and then playing their own song about trashing living rooms and jumping fences:
and the original:
so good.
also: anyone notice how the ads for Colombiana are basically "check out this hot chick killing shit?" or perhaps more specifically, "check out this hot south american chick killing shit?"
>>> Brielle, youngest of the bio-sisters, is somewhere in the midwest (not colorado, har har) right now, highwaying her way closer to Chicago,
where she'll study art and writing at the Art Institute of Chicago. The absence there is palpable, rather than symbolic, as I've been living in the same house as her the last year and a half.
******> Soon that will change. Investigating (limited) housing options now. They include beacon hill, chinatown (ostensibly), capitol district (what I'm calling that space between Pine and Jefferson and 12th and 20th that is literally Central District but increasingly co-opted by 'hillsters) or probably places in suburbs that are affordable but far away from everyone i know and everything I want to do.
>work. have had little luck/fucked up my interviews for full-time jobs. stop that, brain. >still, some digging and pestering have yielded some freelance tutoring opps, some freelance blurb-writing opps that are still in-process.
in.
process.
this is the frustrating part; waiting for writing samples to be cleared, etc, before I can go full-bore. Things I would have been more confident in before a summer of job-hunting. Confidence is key. Irony.<<<<<<<<
(Not much to do but keep at it. Dig in. Make it part of you until it doesn't have to be. All sorts of mantras to make the demoralizing slog of Craigslist and numbing rigor of cover letters into some sort of arch-masculine chest-pound.)
!!!!Tonight, however, Jake Tucker and I will drown our respective (and very different "sorrows" in beer at various town-based places and then I do a gig with Cristina Bautista's new band and Police Teeth, whom have been mentioned here before as fine individuals and purveyors of good-time, rootsy folk music, which is the best type of music for humans to make. Here is them covering White Zombie and then playing their own song about trashing living rooms and jumping fences:
and the original:
so good.
also: anyone notice how the ads for Colombiana are basically "check out this hot chick killing shit?" or perhaps more specifically, "check out this hot south american chick killing shit?"
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
I can't make your (event),
I shall be spending all day and evening drawing pictures of Quaggas next to a poem about breakfast and wondering what the fuck to do about eating.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Ain't WITH. . .
being broke.
Talked a few weeks ago with Lailey (or New York Sister, which would be a title if it didn't sound so loaded) about the difference between being broke in Seattle and being broke in New York. The main note was that when you're broke, like, have no money in NYC, and you tell your friends, there's a greater chance that they'll actually believe you.
Seattle is a city full of new-moneyists who, because they vote liberal and live on the west coast, don't think of themselves as rich. NYC is accepted as one of the most expensive cities in the US, if not world. You tell people in NYC you can't go out because a sandwich and beer could be the difference between having a place to live next month or not and you get a "yikes!"
but it's a real yikes. folks in Seattle don't seem to have that concept. the number of times friends of mine have responded with "yeah, things are really tight for me too, I saw this new dress I wanted but knew I really shouldn't. . ."
there is a gap there.
Talked a few weeks ago with Lailey (or New York Sister, which would be a title if it didn't sound so loaded) about the difference between being broke in Seattle and being broke in New York. The main note was that when you're broke, like, have no money in NYC, and you tell your friends, there's a greater chance that they'll actually believe you.
Seattle is a city full of new-moneyists who, because they vote liberal and live on the west coast, don't think of themselves as rich. NYC is accepted as one of the most expensive cities in the US, if not world. You tell people in NYC you can't go out because a sandwich and beer could be the difference between having a place to live next month or not and you get a "yikes!"
but it's a real yikes. folks in Seattle don't seem to have that concept. the number of times friends of mine have responded with "yeah, things are really tight for me too, I saw this new dress I wanted but knew I really shouldn't. . ."
there is a gap there.
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
My Year in Lists Part 1
List number one isn't so much a list. It's sort of a list. But not entirely. That's the sort of day i'm having, so, dear reader, fuckin' deal with it.
I tallied the total and over the course of 2010, I did 14 readings. Which is like, one and an eight per month. Or something. Granted, two were at residencies where I lived (one at Warm Beach house on the deck, one here in brighton) and a couple were at Gusta's Your Hands Your Mouth readings in B'ham.
Still, that's still a solid amount, especially considering I didn't do any tours or have any new shit I was trying to make people buy. This is sort of a form of bragging, but it is also a way of feeling less generally unaccomplished in the face of various successes (both deserved and un-) around me. I tend to hold it's better to compare yourself against yourself than others. Because there's always someone doing better.
The last reading I did in 2010 was at the Lights Of Christmas coffee shop. Trying to explain the worlds-collide nature of having performance poetry at a christmas-light display in North Snohomish County is too much for right here (and would rely on way too many simplifications) but I successfully wrote some borderline-uplifting stuff that I don't hate and people dug the reading.
other than that my fave readings were: Portland: Beer and Cookies Cabaret. . . oh man. so many chocolate chip cookies and sessions lager and a film about robots and comedians and country music. Eva Suter can throw an art party.
Swansea: The Crunch . . . need I say more?
Seattle, U-District: New Crompton w/Deerseekingheadlights, My Printer Broke We broadcast this on chatroulette and there was dissonant sludgefolk and sweet noise and songs about cats.
There are way more that roughly tie these, but I don't want to screw the economy of reading-status with inflation.
The other thing I did artistically, and perhaps most significantly, was start to visual art in an official way again. Also, verb words. Look at the pics here.
maybe next year there will be some longass post about a new book (or at least chapbook) that someone else is putting out (a goal of mine) or Conspiracy Agogo's east coast tour or my new found life as a regional-humour standup. The future, like they say, unwrit.
I tallied the total and over the course of 2010, I did 14 readings. Which is like, one and an eight per month. Or something. Granted, two were at residencies where I lived (one at Warm Beach house on the deck, one here in brighton) and a couple were at Gusta's Your Hands Your Mouth readings in B'ham.
Still, that's still a solid amount, especially considering I didn't do any tours or have any new shit I was trying to make people buy. This is sort of a form of bragging, but it is also a way of feeling less generally unaccomplished in the face of various successes (both deserved and un-) around me. I tend to hold it's better to compare yourself against yourself than others. Because there's always someone doing better.
The last reading I did in 2010 was at the Lights Of Christmas coffee shop. Trying to explain the worlds-collide nature of having performance poetry at a christmas-light display in North Snohomish County is too much for right here (and would rely on way too many simplifications) but I successfully wrote some borderline-uplifting stuff that I don't hate and people dug the reading.
other than that my fave readings were: Portland: Beer and Cookies Cabaret. . . oh man. so many chocolate chip cookies and sessions lager and a film about robots and comedians and country music. Eva Suter can throw an art party.
Swansea: The Crunch . . . need I say more?
Seattle, U-District: New Crompton w/Deerseekingheadlights, My Printer Broke We broadcast this on chatroulette and there was dissonant sludgefolk and sweet noise and songs about cats.
There are way more that roughly tie these, but I don't want to screw the economy of reading-status with inflation.
The other thing I did artistically, and perhaps most significantly, was start to visual art in an official way again. Also, verb words. Look at the pics here.
maybe next year there will be some longass post about a new book (or at least chapbook) that someone else is putting out (a goal of mine) or Conspiracy Agogo's east coast tour or my new found life as a regional-humour standup. The future, like they say, unwrit.
Monday, 30 August 2010
PDXZines, Beer and Cookies
Down to Portland over the weekend for the Portland Zine Symposium, where I sat at a table and told people what a ZAPP was, did a handful of trades with people who were willing to trade and ran into Dale Woodruff. Good weekend.
The reading at the Beer and Cookies Cabaret was one of my favorite ones in recent memory. I read between a singer and a short claymated film about robots. The beer was good. The cookies were delicious. I think Vegans make better dessert.
Setlist:
Get Smart!
New York pt. 1.3 (swear on the head of the ibex)
Ambition is Critical
Kids!
Genus, Species and Flavour
Isolation Therapy
You, in Your Heyday
It was the first time I did "new york" or "heyday" and my version of "kids" was half-remembered, half adlibbed. went over well though; sold enough that I was able to return to Seattle with some of the money I left with. This is pretty important these days.
The reading at the Beer and Cookies Cabaret was one of my favorite ones in recent memory. I read between a singer and a short claymated film about robots. The beer was good. The cookies were delicious. I think Vegans make better dessert.
Setlist:
Get Smart!
New York pt. 1.3 (swear on the head of the ibex)
Ambition is Critical
Kids!
Genus, Species and Flavour
Isolation Therapy
You, in Your Heyday
It was the first time I did "new york" or "heyday" and my version of "kids" was half-remembered, half adlibbed. went over well though; sold enough that I was able to return to Seattle with some of the money I left with. This is pretty important these days.
Friday, 27 August 2010
plasma, portland and poetry factories.
In a few minutes I go in for a short-ish shift at The Vera Project where I will do some information culling and website updating in a room full of people all being periodically amused by some non-official thing they saw on a website. Then I hitch a ride with Lindsey Tibbot down to Portland, where I'm reading at the Working Theater Collective's Beer and Cookies Cabaret. Apparently I'm between a band, a comic and a juggler? Something like that. Then the next couple of days is ZAPP-duty with the Portland Zine Symposium, one of the largest er, zine symposiums in the country.
So it's busy for me. Yesterday (after a few and a half other things) I hit up the first ever Capitol Hill Mobile City Fair-- basically a bunch of booths and entertainments set up in the Bank of America Parking Lot. All Cap Hill places. Drag queens jumping rope, people eating pork tortas, a bunch of kids and parents dancing in the back of a U-Haul truck while a dude spun club hits. I sat at the Pilot Books booth as part of the "Poetry Factory" where myself and a handful of other hardworking writers wrote poems-to-order for the donation of canned food or a smile.
one guy says "I just got off work. I need something positive. Write me a poem about, um, not puppydogs and world peace. . . friends."
So I did. and it made him really happy.
On my way off the hill I passed by Twice Sold Tales and sold a couple Tolkein books for like, no cash at all, but the woman was enthusiastic about recommending a spot in Ballard where I can sell plasma and thats how she ate for about two years.
Then two college kids came in and asked if she had any Euclid and that made her very happy.
So it's busy for me. Yesterday (after a few and a half other things) I hit up the first ever Capitol Hill Mobile City Fair-- basically a bunch of booths and entertainments set up in the Bank of America Parking Lot. All Cap Hill places. Drag queens jumping rope, people eating pork tortas, a bunch of kids and parents dancing in the back of a U-Haul truck while a dude spun club hits. I sat at the Pilot Books booth as part of the "Poetry Factory" where myself and a handful of other hardworking writers wrote poems-to-order for the donation of canned food or a smile.
one guy says "I just got off work. I need something positive. Write me a poem about, um, not puppydogs and world peace. . . friends."
So I did. and it made him really happy.
On my way off the hill I passed by Twice Sold Tales and sold a couple Tolkein books for like, no cash at all, but the woman was enthusiastic about recommending a spot in Ballard where I can sell plasma and thats how she ate for about two years.
Then two college kids came in and asked if she had any Euclid and that made her very happy.
Monday, 9 August 2010
10 pounds of clothes.
and the inevitable futility of resale in today's economy.
goodwill outlet sells piles of clothes by the pound. $1.50 per pound! So I got a sweet idea to buy a bunch and sell them back to Seattle's many vintagey/second hand stores and be swimming in the riches that have, to this day, eluded me.
So I got 10 pounds of clothes at about $17. To make it worth my money and effort, I'd need to make $20. So far, I have not.
I went to Crossroads (Cap Hill) and they purchased four items coming to a total of $11.80. I then went to Red Light (accross the street from Cap Hill) and they bought no items for a total of no dollars. There are a few things I attribute this drought to:
1 and most likely) I'm not likely that good a judge of what stores will buy. 'specially in women's clothes.
1.5) Also, I thought they'd be buying for fall by now. But both stores are still in Summer Mode. Which means the Perfectly Good and Fashionable Coat, not so much.
i'm guessing I'll take the rest to Buffalo Exchange in about a month and a half when it's solidly Fall and hope to make about ten bucks so I don't feel such a loss. Otherwise I'll just donate to the charity down the street and debate in my head if I want to go back to the Outlet and try to be more discerning, or if perhaps this is simply not my way to make money.
In other news: Cameron and Austin are here from Va and that is the funz.
goodwill outlet sells piles of clothes by the pound. $1.50 per pound! So I got a sweet idea to buy a bunch and sell them back to Seattle's many vintagey/second hand stores and be swimming in the riches that have, to this day, eluded me.
So I got 10 pounds of clothes at about $17. To make it worth my money and effort, I'd need to make $20. So far, I have not.
I went to Crossroads (Cap Hill) and they purchased four items coming to a total of $11.80. I then went to Red Light (accross the street from Cap Hill) and they bought no items for a total of no dollars. There are a few things I attribute this drought to:
1 and most likely) I'm not likely that good a judge of what stores will buy. 'specially in women's clothes.
1.5) Also, I thought they'd be buying for fall by now. But both stores are still in Summer Mode. Which means the Perfectly Good and Fashionable Coat, not so much.
i'm guessing I'll take the rest to Buffalo Exchange in about a month and a half when it's solidly Fall and hope to make about ten bucks so I don't feel such a loss. Otherwise I'll just donate to the charity down the street and debate in my head if I want to go back to the Outlet and try to be more discerning, or if perhaps this is simply not my way to make money.
In other news: Cameron and Austin are here from Va and that is the funz.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
"Oh hey. Welcome back."
Got in 11ish. Waited a good forty for my lone bag, my lone bag I'd not intended on checking, but the flight was crowded, so they generously (?) checked my bag for no charge. Took Seattle's mystical light rail home. Until it dropped me at Othello Station I wasn't sure that it actually existed or was simply a taxpayer-funded excuse for the chain-link fences and rubbly parking lots that have become such a cherished part of Seattle's landscape Downtown and south.
Anyway, it's real and the only person I've seen since getting back was Jonny, on his way out the door to work. After getting a pretty good sleep (the planesleep was planesleep) I decided that alright, i've had my time off (watch for Thoughts on NYC soon) time to GET MY WHOLE LIFE IN ORDER.
So to that effect:
I work tommorrow through sunday.
Have a reading on tuesday.
Knew that.
Today I:
* Sent out extensive invitations to the Tuesday reading. Confirmed Details.
* Confirmed an interview for a paid internship at The Vera Project. That'll be monday.
* Filled out the forms for my Unemployment Defferment Request.
E-mailed my various works/internships/people I'm tutoring to let them know I'm back and ready to be at it. Filled out a late timesheet.
* Checked in with the folks. Getting some editing work from Dad, maybe?
* Looked over a bunch of bills I gotta (somehow) pay. That doesn't seem like much, but believe me, the first step is knowing you have a problem.
Today I would Like To:
* Figure out where (the fuck) to send this form so it gets processed quick.
* Get a start on room de-cluttering; once again, important for mental health.
* Finish the (small amount of) unpacking.
I've only got a couple more hours to do these things, so I'm gonna give myself a break and say for the first day back, I've done alright. Over the weekend I have ZAPP sorts of data-entry stuff to do and I want to make broadsides for Genus, Species and Flavour to sell at the gig, produce a bar-job-hunting resume, etc etc.
but its important I catalog the productivities and perhaps the sun that is out as well just so I remember these things happen.
Anyway, it's real and the only person I've seen since getting back was Jonny, on his way out the door to work. After getting a pretty good sleep (the planesleep was planesleep) I decided that alright, i've had my time off (watch for Thoughts on NYC soon) time to GET MY WHOLE LIFE IN ORDER.
So to that effect:
I work tommorrow through sunday.
Have a reading on tuesday.
Knew that.
Today I:
* Sent out extensive invitations to the Tuesday reading. Confirmed Details.
* Confirmed an interview for a paid internship at The Vera Project. That'll be monday.
* Filled out the forms for my Unemployment Defferment Request.
E-mailed my various works/internships/people I'm tutoring to let them know I'm back and ready to be at it. Filled out a late timesheet.
* Checked in with the folks. Getting some editing work from Dad, maybe?
* Looked over a bunch of bills I gotta (somehow) pay. That doesn't seem like much, but believe me, the first step is knowing you have a problem.
Today I would Like To:
* Figure out where (the fuck) to send this form so it gets processed quick.
* Get a start on room de-cluttering; once again, important for mental health.
* Finish the (small amount of) unpacking.
I've only got a couple more hours to do these things, so I'm gonna give myself a break and say for the first day back, I've done alright. Over the weekend I have ZAPP sorts of data-entry stuff to do and I want to make broadsides for Genus, Species and Flavour to sell at the gig, produce a bar-job-hunting resume, etc etc.
but its important I catalog the productivities and perhaps the sun that is out as well just so I remember these things happen.
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
Still owe money to the money to the money I owe
I'd be pretty happy if my tax return decided to direct deposit sometime soon. Preeeeettttty happy.
Dreams lately: pretty weird.
"Dreams" lately: what?
Dreams lately: pretty weird.
"Dreams" lately: what?
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
It looks different in the day, without so much incandescence.
The day started with a round of donuts and some impromptu readings from Sartre. The last few days of teardown are a lot of feet-dragging, doing the work of six hours over the course of a week, then being hit with tasks where you discover that what you thought was "throw a few parts in a truck" is more like "dismantle an entire miniature fucking house". . .
Spooling up cords, etc.
This would be relaxing, idyllic even, if I weren't also basically living in Seattle and preparing to move all my stuff there, loaded up on commitments, obligations and ideas but very little in the way of financable income.
So what's new, you ask? Ha. Ha ha ha.
Spooling up cords, etc.
This would be relaxing, idyllic even, if I weren't also basically living in Seattle and preparing to move all my stuff there, loaded up on commitments, obligations and ideas but very little in the way of financable income.
So what's new, you ask? Ha. Ha ha ha.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
"it was a good reading. i don't care what everyone else says."-- jake
tonight I did a feature at zippy's java lounge in everett. felt good about it, though the crowd was appreciatively unresponsive. . . unresponsively appreciative? I think it is not a room that lends itself to raucous sorts of participation i.e. Poetry Night or The Crunch, but has a bit "bigger" feel than a lot of coffee shops, so spacing it out can be difficult.
Setlist:
Neo Takes the Blue Pill
Little Red Corvette
Zombies and Paint Thinner
Cafe Across . . .
Beneath the Cathedral
Get Smart!
Rucksacks
Ambition is Critical
Paintings of Famous Satanists
I realised afters that just because I close with my two favourites in the book doesn't mean they'll be crowd pleasers.
But. It was great to see loads of friends and family there (from camp and abroad, new and old) and getting to hang out with Chris/Ryan/Jake always serves both as fun and grounding. Reading at Chris' house in December, too which I'm excited for.
on the way home I listened to Pack Up the Cats for the first time in about 3 years. My copy still skips.
Setlist:
Neo Takes the Blue Pill
Little Red Corvette
Zombies and Paint Thinner
Cafe Across . . .
Beneath the Cathedral
Get Smart!
Rucksacks
Ambition is Critical
Paintings of Famous Satanists
I realised afters that just because I close with my two favourites in the book doesn't mean they'll be crowd pleasers.
But. It was great to see loads of friends and family there (from camp and abroad, new and old) and getting to hang out with Chris/Ryan/Jake always serves both as fun and grounding. Reading at Chris' house in December, too which I'm excited for.
on the way home I listened to Pack Up the Cats for the first time in about 3 years. My copy still skips.
Saturday, 17 October 2009
No longer Pumps and Grinds
So today after helping 20 fifteen year olds take down some tents* in the pouring rain and after driving around 25 minutes in order to find a two minute parking spot to verify things with Bronwyn and being late to my volunteer shift at the Hugo House and leaving early to get Bronwyn and a very scenic if rainy trip out to Duvall, I did my first feature reading back in the United States of America.
Setlist
Flicking Ash
Swansea-Cardiff Blues (Bham Ed.)
Isolation Therapy
Cavities
Zombies and Paint Thinner
A Little Fear of Drowning
Missing Every Day
Rucksacks
Tall Drink of Water
Genus, Species and Flavour
Get Smart!
__(end of night encore)__>Story Problem
Thats a lot of poems, over half the book. Which is funny because two nights ago I was looking over it and thinking man, I don't likeany of these. I'd already decided I wanted my first reading back in the states to be all stuff from Swansea Morning Coming Down. Plus, while I've got a good chunk of new stuff, the amount of it I feel anywhere in the neighbourhood of "finished" with is not high.
Anyway. It went really well. Good reactions and sold a few books. The owners of the Duvall Coffeehouse asked if they could display SWMOCODO (nifty, huh?) on the "local authors" shelf.
Duvall is not close to anywhere in Washington (except Carnation, natch) and a lot of folks showed up from all over, including a majority of my in-state family. It felt really right that Duvall be where I step back into reading in the States. I'll do one in Everett in November probably and B'ham in February (I think; by which time I may have made at least a mini-book of new stuff) but I'm glad I started with Katherine and my family and a rainy night in Duvall, Washington.
Now I am back at Warm Beach Swamp Ground, Brielle is here and we are listening to Tom Waits' Alice and waiting for Mom and Dad to return with the three youngest sisters.
Setlist
Flicking Ash
Swansea-Cardiff Blues (Bham Ed.)
Isolation Therapy
Cavities
Zombies and Paint Thinner
A Little Fear of Drowning
Missing Every Day
Rucksacks
Tall Drink of Water
Genus, Species and Flavour
Get Smart!
__(end of night encore)__>Story Problem
Thats a lot of poems, over half the book. Which is funny because two nights ago I was looking over it and thinking man, I don't likeany of these. I'd already decided I wanted my first reading back in the states to be all stuff from Swansea Morning Coming Down. Plus, while I've got a good chunk of new stuff, the amount of it I feel anywhere in the neighbourhood of "finished" with is not high.
Anyway. It went really well. Good reactions and sold a few books. The owners of the Duvall Coffeehouse asked if they could display SWMOCODO (nifty, huh?) on the "local authors" shelf.
Duvall is not close to anywhere in Washington (except Carnation, natch) and a lot of folks showed up from all over, including a majority of my in-state family. It felt really right that Duvall be where I step back into reading in the States. I'll do one in Everett in November probably and B'ham in February (I think; by which time I may have made at least a mini-book of new stuff) but I'm glad I started with Katherine and my family and a rainy night in Duvall, Washington.
Now I am back at Warm Beach Swamp Ground, Brielle is here and we are listening to Tom Waits' Alice and waiting for Mom and Dad to return with the three youngest sisters.
Friday, 1 May 2009
working/but I'm not working for you!
Weeks worth = 2 entries, roughly. Apparently.
Right now= rain outside. Sunny this morning and me coat/hatless. Waiting it out.
Speaking of Waiting It Out (see what I did there?) lets look at some food-service statistics. The way I see it, all menial jobs have their upsides (free food, good stories, staying in shape if its manual labour) and downsides (obvious.) So this is the breakdown of my four year-plus food-service jobs, starting at the age of 19 at Dennys, right up through my current Pub-tending tradition at teh Rhydz. Lets see which jobs come out on top and how far I've come.
1. Money. The reason you get any job, basically, is money. Even rewarding ones must pay in order to be jobs, not hobbies.
Denny's: Minimum wage, which in Washington State was pretty good, plus tips, which weren't as good as some high-end place, but still left every night with between $20-70, depending.
Port of Subs 20 hours a week behind a sub-sandwich bar for minimum and jar tips split between four people. Left every day with maybe two to five (on a good day) dollars. Enough to buy myself a sandwich on discount, or get a coffee. I have no idea how I survived on this for two years.
Avenue Bread All factors considered, possibly the best. By the end I was making like $9 an hour (amazing considering I was just a sandwich maker/barista) and jar tips were split between up to five people. But usually still left with between $15-30 a day.
The Rhyddings Just above minimum, because luckily, I'm over 22. Every now and then a regular will "put a drink behind" (and I'll usually just pocket the £2.50) because in Britain we don't believe in things like tipping. That's fine. I don't believe in things like giving a shit if my customers have flies in their pints.
Winner/Loser Dennys and Avenue win. The Rhyddings, depressingly, all things considered, is possibly worse for money than Port of Subs. But I get more hours. And there are other factors like. . .
2. Proximity to One's House
Dennny's No. I lived in Lake City. It was in Ballard. I drove the parents' gold mini-van and it took a half hour each way. That's a lot of 107.7 The End to deal with if you forget a mix tape and KEXP is coming in fuzzy.
Port of Subs Down the hill and nearly on the other side of the (tiny) downtown bellingham. So close, but not like next door.
Avenue Bread Depends. A 10 minute bus-ride to the Fairhaven Store (during which I think I lisened to that Raconteurs album a lot) or literal roll down the hill to downtown main. About three streets closer than POS, which makes a psychological difference.
The Rhyddings *Just* closer than the Downtown Avenue. Plus I get to cut through a park if I want.
Winner The Rhyds.
3. Flexibility of Hours
Denny's Theoretical but not in practice. For a while I was scheduled ONLY the shifts I asked for off (including when I was supposed to be paid to do improv) at which point I and a couple other workers got the GM transferred to another store about an hour from his house.
Port of Subs Weekdays 10:30 am- 2:30pm. Everyday.
Avenue Bread Decent enough; you're either getting too many hours or far too few, but they were usually reasonable.
The Rhyds "Hey Kim, I can't work this night." "Why not __________?" "Well, my friend is visiting from Bristol the day before and we're gonna be absolutely wasted. . . " "Cool I'll get Graham/Lauren/Myself to cover it."
Winner Rhyds and Avenue beat out the other two, though Port of Subs had the advantage that I could do it for 4 hours with my brain shut off and therefore it failed to effect my lifestyle whatsoever.
4. Value In Cultivating Starving Artist Stereotype Or conversely, working at a place with enough local-goodwill that it has its own sort of respect granted.
Denny's Would have been much higher if I were a fry-cook.
Port of Subs No. Other than that I was shit-poor.
Avenue Bread "Oh, hey, I've eaten there. They have really good sandwiches."
The Rhyddings You kidding? I'm not only bartending. . . I'm bartending in Wales. The anecdotal value of starting sentences with "Well, when I was working at this local pub in Swansea. . ." is through the roof.
Winner Avenue on Local Goodwill front, but Rhyddings for life-story elements.
5. Good Stories/Interesting Regulars
Dennys Oh yeah. Like the guy who wrote on napkins about Satan and asked me if I thought God hated him for drinking. Or the kids who played D & D all night for the price of one coke and one coffee. Or the girls who left me their e-mails on a napkin, offering to take me to a public hot-tub rental place for an hour.
Port of Subs Jimmy Henry used to order sandwiches regularly and he was pretty interesting wherever he was. Everyone else worked in banks nearby.
Avenue Bread The difference between the Downtown and Fairhaven stores was amazing. Like, seriously. In Fairhaven there was this guy who invited me to his church, but it felt like he was doing it to try to get into the girl I worked with's pants. Somehow. Downtown Tony burned me a bunch of National CDs and we talked about such things when there weren't lines. One of the old guys who always came in actually died right there in the store.
The Rhyddings I wasn't there for The Fight that got Dave drinking again, but I'm pretty sure I've got nearly a book's worth of interesting characters waiting until I don't, you know, work there any more, to pop out of my head. Of course that would mean I wrote a book about bartending.
Winner Denny's has a 0.1 edge in the tie right now.
6. Interesting/Hot Co-Workers or Hey, is the Whole Staff Sleeping Together? Can I get in on that? Maybe just a little?
Dennys More interesting than Hot, but I could name about six or seven off the top of my head that ruled. Nikki, whose house I'd watch movies at after work while her and her bf smoked copious amounts of anything, (sometimes-token) Black Guy Corry, who, when he got a shift he didn't like would say things like "I guess I'm the nigger today." Many other stories.
Port of Subs I worked at all times with one other underling and a Punjab couple (Parmjit and Kudlippe) who ran the store with an iron fist. For about two weeks James "horsewhip" Burns was one of those. Around the same time Grant Cross applied for a job and it looked like we were going to be the most hipster-fried sub shop in all of bellingham. Didn't pan out, though.
Avenue Bread "It is not my 'opinion' that everyone you work with is Fucking Hot. I am simply observing a fact."-- Jake, on my co-workers.
The Rhyddings Its hard to judge when you're still there, actually. Some great folks, some run-of-the-mill, some interesting enough and then there's Huwie.
Winner Avenue for Hot, definitely, with enough interesting mixed in I don't feel entirely shallow saying so. Includes Ellie, who got the poem written about her. Rhyds and Dennys may tie for interesting, if you take into account people like Keiran or Dave Beer. Port of Subs for Movie of the Week elements.
7. Morally Redeeming Elements I.E. Am I working for The Man? Do I hate myself for serving people this terrible food? How crushed is my soul by this? What's cool about this job?
Denny's Totally working for The Man. Chewed through employees like a dog through food. Employee discounts on meals, free soda.
Port of Subs The days I felt really angry or depressed I reminded myself that I was working for a immigrant family-owned franchise. And it was paying for little Jasmine's school.
Avenue Bread Free coffee, sandwiches, pastries at the end of the day. All local ingredients, everything donated to charity at the end of the day. Possibly the Greenest place I've ever seen, and run by completely business-savvy types who didn't do it so much because they were Hippies (they were pretty right-wing) but because hey-- this is smart.
The Rhyds Its not a chain-pub (i.e. reflex) and it services a local neighborhood. So that's good. But employee discounts? Pah. Green? Er, I guess we recycle.
Winner Avenue, by a long shot.
8. General Morale How depressing IS it?
Dennys Fluctuated wildly, depending on the GM. No one wants to work at Dennys for too long, but ironically it was those who'd worked there a while, chain-smoked and read Vonnegut and said that yeah "someday" they'd do something else, but fuck it, who really survived.
Port of Subs "I have to be work here every day. No friends, no life. I can to be very depressed. Is like Jail."-- Kudlippe.
Avenue Bread Depended how hungover we all were. Our boss could tell the difference between really sick and "A Night at Rumours."
The Rhyds We love how much we "hate" it there, but somehow end up there even when we weren't supposed to be.
Winner Er, probably the Rhyds. Due more to personal growth than anything else, or the fact that it all just feels so much like a story.
alright. that's enough. the rain hasn't stopped. I'm going to take some ibruprofen and call a dentist.
Right now= rain outside. Sunny this morning and me coat/hatless. Waiting it out.
Speaking of Waiting It Out (see what I did there?) lets look at some food-service statistics. The way I see it, all menial jobs have their upsides (free food, good stories, staying in shape if its manual labour) and downsides (obvious.) So this is the breakdown of my four year-plus food-service jobs, starting at the age of 19 at Dennys, right up through my current Pub-tending tradition at teh Rhydz. Lets see which jobs come out on top and how far I've come.
1. Money. The reason you get any job, basically, is money. Even rewarding ones must pay in order to be jobs, not hobbies.
Denny's: Minimum wage, which in Washington State was pretty good, plus tips, which weren't as good as some high-end place, but still left every night with between $20-70, depending.
Port of Subs 20 hours a week behind a sub-sandwich bar for minimum and jar tips split between four people. Left every day with maybe two to five (on a good day) dollars. Enough to buy myself a sandwich on discount, or get a coffee. I have no idea how I survived on this for two years.
Avenue Bread All factors considered, possibly the best. By the end I was making like $9 an hour (amazing considering I was just a sandwich maker/barista) and jar tips were split between up to five people. But usually still left with between $15-30 a day.
The Rhyddings Just above minimum, because luckily, I'm over 22. Every now and then a regular will "put a drink behind" (and I'll usually just pocket the £2.50) because in Britain we don't believe in things like tipping. That's fine. I don't believe in things like giving a shit if my customers have flies in their pints.
Winner/Loser Dennys and Avenue win. The Rhyddings, depressingly, all things considered, is possibly worse for money than Port of Subs. But I get more hours. And there are other factors like. . .
2. Proximity to One's House
Dennny's No. I lived in Lake City. It was in Ballard. I drove the parents' gold mini-van and it took a half hour each way. That's a lot of 107.7 The End to deal with if you forget a mix tape and KEXP is coming in fuzzy.
Port of Subs Down the hill and nearly on the other side of the (tiny) downtown bellingham. So close, but not like next door.
Avenue Bread Depends. A 10 minute bus-ride to the Fairhaven Store (during which I think I lisened to that Raconteurs album a lot) or literal roll down the hill to downtown main. About three streets closer than POS, which makes a psychological difference.
The Rhyddings *Just* closer than the Downtown Avenue. Plus I get to cut through a park if I want.
Winner The Rhyds.
3. Flexibility of Hours
Denny's Theoretical but not in practice. For a while I was scheduled ONLY the shifts I asked for off (including when I was supposed to be paid to do improv) at which point I and a couple other workers got the GM transferred to another store about an hour from his house.
Port of Subs Weekdays 10:30 am- 2:30pm. Everyday.
Avenue Bread Decent enough; you're either getting too many hours or far too few, but they were usually reasonable.
The Rhyds "Hey Kim, I can't work this night." "Why not __________?" "Well, my friend is visiting from Bristol the day before and we're gonna be absolutely wasted. . . " "Cool I'll get Graham/Lauren/Myself to cover it."
Winner Rhyds and Avenue beat out the other two, though Port of Subs had the advantage that I could do it for 4 hours with my brain shut off and therefore it failed to effect my lifestyle whatsoever.
4. Value In Cultivating Starving Artist Stereotype Or conversely, working at a place with enough local-goodwill that it has its own sort of respect granted.
Denny's Would have been much higher if I were a fry-cook.
Port of Subs No. Other than that I was shit-poor.
Avenue Bread "Oh, hey, I've eaten there. They have really good sandwiches."
The Rhyddings You kidding? I'm not only bartending. . . I'm bartending in Wales. The anecdotal value of starting sentences with "Well, when I was working at this local pub in Swansea. . ." is through the roof.
Winner Avenue on Local Goodwill front, but Rhyddings for life-story elements.
5. Good Stories/Interesting Regulars
Dennys Oh yeah. Like the guy who wrote on napkins about Satan and asked me if I thought God hated him for drinking. Or the kids who played D & D all night for the price of one coke and one coffee. Or the girls who left me their e-mails on a napkin, offering to take me to a public hot-tub rental place for an hour.
Port of Subs Jimmy Henry used to order sandwiches regularly and he was pretty interesting wherever he was. Everyone else worked in banks nearby.
Avenue Bread The difference between the Downtown and Fairhaven stores was amazing. Like, seriously. In Fairhaven there was this guy who invited me to his church, but it felt like he was doing it to try to get into the girl I worked with's pants. Somehow. Downtown Tony burned me a bunch of National CDs and we talked about such things when there weren't lines. One of the old guys who always came in actually died right there in the store.
The Rhyddings I wasn't there for The Fight that got Dave drinking again, but I'm pretty sure I've got nearly a book's worth of interesting characters waiting until I don't, you know, work there any more, to pop out of my head. Of course that would mean I wrote a book about bartending.
Winner Denny's has a 0.1 edge in the tie right now.
6. Interesting/Hot Co-Workers or Hey, is the Whole Staff Sleeping Together? Can I get in on that? Maybe just a little?
Dennys More interesting than Hot, but I could name about six or seven off the top of my head that ruled. Nikki, whose house I'd watch movies at after work while her and her bf smoked copious amounts of anything, (sometimes-token) Black Guy Corry, who, when he got a shift he didn't like would say things like "I guess I'm the nigger today." Many other stories.
Port of Subs I worked at all times with one other underling and a Punjab couple (Parmjit and Kudlippe) who ran the store with an iron fist. For about two weeks James "horsewhip" Burns was one of those. Around the same time Grant Cross applied for a job and it looked like we were going to be the most hipster-fried sub shop in all of bellingham. Didn't pan out, though.
Avenue Bread "It is not my 'opinion' that everyone you work with is Fucking Hot. I am simply observing a fact."-- Jake, on my co-workers.
The Rhyddings Its hard to judge when you're still there, actually. Some great folks, some run-of-the-mill, some interesting enough and then there's Huwie.
Winner Avenue for Hot, definitely, with enough interesting mixed in I don't feel entirely shallow saying so. Includes Ellie, who got the poem written about her. Rhyds and Dennys may tie for interesting, if you take into account people like Keiran or Dave Beer. Port of Subs for Movie of the Week elements.
7. Morally Redeeming Elements I.E. Am I working for The Man? Do I hate myself for serving people this terrible food? How crushed is my soul by this? What's cool about this job?
Denny's Totally working for The Man. Chewed through employees like a dog through food. Employee discounts on meals, free soda.
Port of Subs The days I felt really angry or depressed I reminded myself that I was working for a immigrant family-owned franchise. And it was paying for little Jasmine's school.
Avenue Bread Free coffee, sandwiches, pastries at the end of the day. All local ingredients, everything donated to charity at the end of the day. Possibly the Greenest place I've ever seen, and run by completely business-savvy types who didn't do it so much because they were Hippies (they were pretty right-wing) but because hey-- this is smart.
The Rhyds Its not a chain-pub (i.e. reflex) and it services a local neighborhood. So that's good. But employee discounts? Pah. Green? Er, I guess we recycle.
Winner Avenue, by a long shot.
8. General Morale How depressing IS it?
Dennys Fluctuated wildly, depending on the GM. No one wants to work at Dennys for too long, but ironically it was those who'd worked there a while, chain-smoked and read Vonnegut and said that yeah "someday" they'd do something else, but fuck it, who really survived.
Port of Subs "I have to be work here every day. No friends, no life. I can to be very depressed. Is like Jail."-- Kudlippe.
Avenue Bread Depended how hungover we all were. Our boss could tell the difference between really sick and "A Night at Rumours."
The Rhyds We love how much we "hate" it there, but somehow end up there even when we weren't supposed to be.
Winner Er, probably the Rhyds. Due more to personal growth than anything else, or the fact that it all just feels so much like a story.
alright. that's enough. the rain hasn't stopped. I'm going to take some ibruprofen and call a dentist.
Monday, 16 March 2009
"I can sell you two cans of Hatred, but you can't open them in here."
The Facebook Site for the pub I work at is called "Rhyddings Hotel, Centre of the Universe." Cough. Cough. Cough. I didn't make it. This probably means, however, that I'm entitled to talk about what happens there as it effects everything to occur anywhere, ever.
so here we go: Superhappy Workfun #1.
There's too much longwinded backstory that isn't interesting to get this one across, but I'll try. There's two of the regulars who come by. One is Huwie, who is nicknamed "the horrible cunt" and then there's Ceri, who's a good few decades younger than Huwie, but is his boss. On and off. It's a complex relationship; Ceri often comes in and asks. . . So. . . any horrible cunts around?
No, no sign of odiousness.
Good good. So it hasn't been that loathesome in here today?
Not that I've seen.
It's good banter. Actually, probably 60% of the truly quality banter from the dailies comes from Ceri-- "I'll take a few pints of self-loathing with a chaser of despair and-- oh wait, you don't SELL dignity here, do you?
So it was pretty la-a-ame when Ceri was in a few weeks ago with a good group of mates I'd not seen before and they proceeded to give me and Simon a good bit of shit.
( Parentheticals you probably figure but I'll say anyway--Now-- Taking Shit is part of a bartender's job. Not enough bubbles in your pint? Here, let me pour your pint into a new glass and top it up, wasting what ends up being nearly half a pint of beer just so that your Fosters is foamy enough. Too MUCH head on your beer? Let's just top that up for you. Yes, it sure IS a shame this isn't a "Real Pub." I'll serve you so much faster when you snap your fingers. Etc.--)
But there's Taking Shit and there's some shit-- when one of Ceri's mates' pint was flat after about three new glasses, well, that's not my fault, is it? Plus by now we've put almost a pint and a half in the waste tray just trying to conjure up some bubbles. So then every time I walk past he complains, cusses at me or remarks that he paid £2.60 for this pint and blah blah blah (he actually paid £2.45.)
This isn't what got Ceri banned. Ceri was just sitting there laughing. Would I have liked it if one of my regulars who I'm always quick to serve actually said something-- anything-- to the effect of "come on, guys, I drink here every day, lay off." Yes.
But I wasn't expecting it.
However, when the lot of them started sending texts to the pub phone aimed at Simon saying things like Next time make sure my pint has bubbles in it, you hairy cunt and similarly hilarious bits (revolving around the C-word. I'll miss it's ubiquity when I go home.) that Simon refuses to serve them. I go along with it, because seriously, fuck those guys.
Meanwhile, the "horrible cunt" is sitting at his stool, shaking his head and politely waiting to be served. Ironies.
So if there's one thing I can say for Tony and Angie, it's that they back up their employees. None of this "customer is always right" rot. Tony tells me that he doesn't want those guys in here any more and if Ceri wants to keep drinking here he needs to issue an apology. Now I don't want the guy banned-- I just want his charming friends to leave me alone. However, Saturday night he comes in and gets into a proper Row with Angie and now he's 86ed. Meanwhile, "horrible cunt" now works for us as a cleaner.
Superfunhappytimes #2
Jane has worked at the pub for quite a while now. She's been in and out of the bartrade for a good long time and the customers like her. She is not, however, good at managing her drinking habits in such a way to line up with her schedule. Even by the Rhyddings standards. Which run along these lines-- "If I can go out and get absolutely shitfaced every night and still show up here and do my job for eight hours, you damn well can too."--Kim.
We don't care about hangovers, blurry eyes or cranky tempers. We do care (or I do) when we get texts at 6:30am asking for coverage of the 11am shift. Hypothetically. Which I did because 1) I'm a sucker and 2) I'm good hearted and 3) I'm broke and 4) all of the above.
So working an unexpected 11-5 on a rugby day was fine; but when Simon shows up and asks if I want to cover him because "he's got to do some shit" well. . . alright. Half your shift. Til 9pm. For an even 10 hours.
But when Simon doesn't show to cover the last half of his shift, well, I'm already on a pint of bitter and sure as hell no one ELSE is picking up the slack. So Angie tells Kim to text Simon "If you're not here in 15 minutes don't bother coming back."
Needless to say, he doesn't show. I'm sure he'll have a story. On one hand I feel bad for the guy -- 22 years old, two kids and what sounds like the banshee from hell to contend with, personally. When he didn't show up for a week and returned, teary-eyed and apologetic, Angie let him back.
On the other hand, I believe Nicola put it best when she said: "Well, it serves the stupid twat fucking right for not showing up. Asshole."
Because at the end of the day, yeah man. We've all Got Problems. But we show up.
so here we go: Superhappy Workfun #1.
There's too much longwinded backstory that isn't interesting to get this one across, but I'll try. There's two of the regulars who come by. One is Huwie, who is nicknamed "the horrible cunt" and then there's Ceri, who's a good few decades younger than Huwie, but is his boss. On and off. It's a complex relationship; Ceri often comes in and asks. . . So. . . any horrible cunts around?
No, no sign of odiousness.
Good good. So it hasn't been that loathesome in here today?
Not that I've seen.
It's good banter. Actually, probably 60% of the truly quality banter from the dailies comes from Ceri-- "I'll take a few pints of self-loathing with a chaser of despair and-- oh wait, you don't SELL dignity here, do you?
So it was pretty la-a-ame when Ceri was in a few weeks ago with a good group of mates I'd not seen before and they proceeded to give me and Simon a good bit of shit.
( Parentheticals you probably figure but I'll say anyway--Now-- Taking Shit is part of a bartender's job. Not enough bubbles in your pint? Here, let me pour your pint into a new glass and top it up, wasting what ends up being nearly half a pint of beer just so that your Fosters is foamy enough. Too MUCH head on your beer? Let's just top that up for you. Yes, it sure IS a shame this isn't a "Real Pub." I'll serve you so much faster when you snap your fingers. Etc.--)
But there's Taking Shit and there's some shit-- when one of Ceri's mates' pint was flat after about three new glasses, well, that's not my fault, is it? Plus by now we've put almost a pint and a half in the waste tray just trying to conjure up some bubbles. So then every time I walk past he complains, cusses at me or remarks that he paid £2.60 for this pint and blah blah blah (he actually paid £2.45.)
This isn't what got Ceri banned. Ceri was just sitting there laughing. Would I have liked it if one of my regulars who I'm always quick to serve actually said something-- anything-- to the effect of "come on, guys, I drink here every day, lay off." Yes.
But I wasn't expecting it.
However, when the lot of them started sending texts to the pub phone aimed at Simon saying things like Next time make sure my pint has bubbles in it, you hairy cunt and similarly hilarious bits (revolving around the C-word. I'll miss it's ubiquity when I go home.) that Simon refuses to serve them. I go along with it, because seriously, fuck those guys.
Meanwhile, the "horrible cunt" is sitting at his stool, shaking his head and politely waiting to be served. Ironies.
So if there's one thing I can say for Tony and Angie, it's that they back up their employees. None of this "customer is always right" rot. Tony tells me that he doesn't want those guys in here any more and if Ceri wants to keep drinking here he needs to issue an apology. Now I don't want the guy banned-- I just want his charming friends to leave me alone. However, Saturday night he comes in and gets into a proper Row with Angie and now he's 86ed. Meanwhile, "horrible cunt" now works for us as a cleaner.
Superfunhappytimes #2
Jane has worked at the pub for quite a while now. She's been in and out of the bartrade for a good long time and the customers like her. She is not, however, good at managing her drinking habits in such a way to line up with her schedule. Even by the Rhyddings standards. Which run along these lines-- "If I can go out and get absolutely shitfaced every night and still show up here and do my job for eight hours, you damn well can too."--Kim.
We don't care about hangovers, blurry eyes or cranky tempers. We do care (or I do) when we get texts at 6:30am asking for coverage of the 11am shift. Hypothetically. Which I did because 1) I'm a sucker and 2) I'm good hearted and 3) I'm broke and 4) all of the above.
So working an unexpected 11-5 on a rugby day was fine; but when Simon shows up and asks if I want to cover him because "he's got to do some shit" well. . . alright. Half your shift. Til 9pm. For an even 10 hours.
But when Simon doesn't show to cover the last half of his shift, well, I'm already on a pint of bitter and sure as hell no one ELSE is picking up the slack. So Angie tells Kim to text Simon "If you're not here in 15 minutes don't bother coming back."
Needless to say, he doesn't show. I'm sure he'll have a story. On one hand I feel bad for the guy -- 22 years old, two kids and what sounds like the banshee from hell to contend with, personally. When he didn't show up for a week and returned, teary-eyed and apologetic, Angie let him back.
On the other hand, I believe Nicola put it best when she said: "Well, it serves the stupid twat fucking right for not showing up. Asshole."
Because at the end of the day, yeah man. We've all Got Problems. But we show up.
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
It's like the Awesome Nameless Summer Poetry Project, but will probably get a title soon. Part 1.
Today I got an e-mail from GPS with a contract and everything. Something about invoicing them. I've never "invoiced" anyone before; largely because I'm usually on the other end of that equation and because most of my dealings are with friends. This, however, is with a large, poetry-based corporation.
More on that later. With regards to the Other End of my cash-acquisition, I'm currently working on a new Chapbook to complete in time for a top-secret lock-in fundraiser at Lewis' band's practice space beginning of April.
Yeah, I know.
Something about a "top-secret fundraiser" sounds eight ways to dodgy, but still. . . I like reading in cramped, poorly lit spaces. If my words don't hit people, specks of saliva will.
So I'm currently going through a list of potential poems for this book. I want it to largely consist of pieces I've written (or heavily edited and completed) here in Swansea, I want it to have a strong Sense of Place, but I don't want it to read like a poetry-based laundry list of images and places; I find that heavily themed works get real stale real fast.
So. I've got a list of titles here, some with links to them, others you can easily find on this blog, others are yet unseen in online form and we'll let that stay the case.
First off, the Poems I Wrote Pre-Wales, that for whatever reason I Feel Strongly Enough About to consider including
Story Problem
Zombies and Paint Thinner
Dinner For One
Watching Films About Death
Little Red Corvette
Cavities
Caleb Barber Loses His Teeth to Meth
Everyone Has Something
Murder Ballads
Poems I've Written in Swansea, More or Less About Swansea or Places in It or about General 'Welshness'-->(*Marks one that needs a good bit of work)
Beneath the Cathedral
Paintings of Famous Satanists
Rugby '08
Rugby '09*
Rucksacks*
The Cafe Across From the Train Station
Glasgow Weather and Inappropriate Footwear
Carmarthen Train #1
Its What We Writers Do (For Jen)
Christmas Light Gallows*
Tall Drink of Water
Black Pudding*
Isolation Therapy
At the Chip Shop
Beck House D 3.1*
Ambition is Critical*
Swansea-Cardiff Blues (Bellngham Edition)*
Earl Grey
All My Friend Back Home (Start a band about this one)*
Tired Eyes
And These Are About Girls or Concepts or came from Ryan's prompts and aren't necessarily tied to Wales
Ellie
Donkey Kong Country
New Poem For Old Plasters
We Laughed at the Same Thing (M4W)
Clippers! Clippers! Clippers!
A Little Fear of Drowning
Flicking Ash
24th Ave, NE*
Cities that Exist in Movies*
Children Go Missing Every Day
Context and Subtext
Ways In Which Gloriana Flotsam McGrew Will Probably Die, Since It's Always So Fucking Glamourous With Her (addressed to the subject)
Pigeon Bait
Children Go Missing Every Day
Forward Thinking
Boyz*
Three Counts of Public Urination
Enough With the Cape Already*
Genus, Species and Flavour
I am the tired orphan*
yeah. So about 15-20 poems out of those. Plus a few that are very much in my head but not on paper yet. Some are shoe-ins, but it really depends what sort of thing I want to make and what purpose I want it to serve for me and how long. Which I'll talk about later. I've tagged a lot of places you can find some of the mentioned poems.
More on that later. With regards to the Other End of my cash-acquisition, I'm currently working on a new Chapbook to complete in time for a top-secret lock-in fundraiser at Lewis' band's practice space beginning of April.
Yeah, I know.
Something about a "top-secret fundraiser" sounds eight ways to dodgy, but still. . . I like reading in cramped, poorly lit spaces. If my words don't hit people, specks of saliva will.
So I'm currently going through a list of potential poems for this book. I want it to largely consist of pieces I've written (or heavily edited and completed) here in Swansea, I want it to have a strong Sense of Place, but I don't want it to read like a poetry-based laundry list of images and places; I find that heavily themed works get real stale real fast.
So. I've got a list of titles here, some with links to them, others you can easily find on this blog, others are yet unseen in online form and we'll let that stay the case.
First off, the Poems I Wrote Pre-Wales, that for whatever reason I Feel Strongly Enough About to consider including
Story Problem
Zombies and Paint Thinner
Dinner For One
Watching Films About Death
Little Red Corvette
Cavities
Caleb Barber Loses His Teeth to Meth
Everyone Has Something
Murder Ballads
Poems I've Written in Swansea, More or Less About Swansea or Places in It or about General 'Welshness'-->(*Marks one that needs a good bit of work)
Beneath the Cathedral
Paintings of Famous Satanists
Rugby '08
Rugby '09*
Rucksacks*
The Cafe Across From the Train Station
Glasgow Weather and Inappropriate Footwear
Carmarthen Train #1
Its What We Writers Do (For Jen)
Christmas Light Gallows*
Tall Drink of Water
Black Pudding*
Isolation Therapy
At the Chip Shop
Beck House D 3.1*
Ambition is Critical*
Swansea-Cardiff Blues (Bellngham Edition)*
Earl Grey
All My Friend Back Home (Start a band about this one)*
Tired Eyes
And These Are About Girls or Concepts or came from Ryan's prompts and aren't necessarily tied to Wales
Ellie
Donkey Kong Country
New Poem For Old Plasters
We Laughed at the Same Thing (M4W)
Clippers! Clippers! Clippers!
A Little Fear of Drowning
Flicking Ash
24th Ave, NE*
Cities that Exist in Movies*
Children Go Missing Every Day
Context and Subtext
Ways In Which Gloriana Flotsam McGrew Will Probably Die, Since It's Always So Fucking Glamourous With Her (addressed to the subject)
Pigeon Bait
Children Go Missing Every Day
Forward Thinking
Boyz*
Three Counts of Public Urination
Enough With the Cape Already*
Genus, Species and Flavour
I am the tired orphan*
yeah. So about 15-20 poems out of those. Plus a few that are very much in my head but not on paper yet. Some are shoe-ins, but it really depends what sort of thing I want to make and what purpose I want it to serve for me and how long. Which I'll talk about later. I've tagged a lot of places you can find some of the mentioned poems.
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