Signs…….signs……..

Signs, like the Mel Gibson movie.

Walking from an alternate train station on Sunday, due to my normally express train going local that day, I walked past a gated dirt hill leading down to what is probably one of the most contaminated rivers on this Earth. But anyway, I walked past it and seen this hanging behind the gate:

Whatever, normal piece of corrugated cardboard.

Later on in the afternoon of that workday, a half Jewish, half-Puerto Rican woman came in and was interested in a particular piece of furniture. She liked the wood (I forget what kind), the shiny coat that our workshop guy put on it, and it's Asian handmade look. She would basically just use the drawer in the front foyer to deposit her keys and things in when she came in the door of her home. A quick, decorative depository. However, one thing repelled her a bit. The drawer had this on the bottom of it:


I, at first, stumbled a little bit at the fact that this sat in a warehouse ran by a practicing Orthodox Jewish man. But remembering context, I explained that the drawer was made in and imported from China. Buddhists and Hindus had extensive use of this symbol as a good thing in their religion before before Fascists took it and perverted it in their campaign. In addition, the symbol was at the bottom of the drawer, and carved in above it was a huge Yin/Yang circle that should've offset the "bad energy" that had been culturally placed in the symbol you see here.

She bought it. The symbol is below mid-shin level, so she figured that no one would really notice it anyway. If they do, she'll quickly give them a more detailed explanation of its history than the one I put above.

Life: The Irony.

Prayer of the Refugee/Opium of the People

Couldn't decide which title to steal, so I put both.

Parental Advisory: Explicit Content

Wondering about my two managers. One is from Afghanistan, with experience in watching relatives and close friends be destroyed the tanks and copters of Communists Russians during the Cold War (see "Charlie Wilson's War"). In present day, he is quite forgetful and afraid of confrontation of any sort. In order to get out of it, he often does stupid things like ignore protocol or give merchandise away virtually free. The other manager either embraced or just simply live in a country of Communism (Czechoslovakia). After coming here in the midst of married life, she's had to grapple with Breast Cancer. Is often short-sighted in her managerial administration, which leads her to doing infamously dumb things. Often, if she doesn't see something happen in front of her eyes, it doesn't exist at all. Is their respective histories or current personalities the reason why they don't get along? Was thinking about this while washing my hands, and having to be subjected to hearing the bowel movements of two construction workers and a stock guy. I think one was cursed with Montezuma's revenge.

It wasn't really a busy day yesterday, and that struck up fears of a fresh wave of employee budget cuts happening again. I do not feel secure in this position, but I'm glad I still have it for the time being. After a morbid day's work. I came home and borrowed the car to get Wendy's food. I came back home and watch an episode of "Law and Order", about white people who were taking small children from Haiti and using them as slaves. While dipping chicken nuggets in cheese sauce, I found it, for some reason, quite difficult to fathom the idea of slave trafficking Haitians under the administration of an African president. People say the world is a beautiful place because God made it. That would make the Earth a lovely planet, but the world is nothing short of rat's bile.

Anthem Of Our Dying Day

This title being the name of a song by one of my favorite emo bands.

Bollocks, mate. Another day, another dollar expression. Woke up this morning and went into the bathroom, only to find that the maintenance department for our buildings shut the water off. I held my toothbrush under the faucet and turn the knob, just so the faucet could clear its throat and cough out a lukewarm drop before turning silent. Looked in the mirror, and felt compelled to kick myself for forgetting that I read a notice saying this will happen two days ago and said to myself "alright, shower Monday night". But Monday night, after driving home from a fun social gathering with people from my church, I threw myself into the bed whilst watching "Tim and Eric's Awesome Show. Great Job!" and just told myself I'd shower in the morning. Bollocks.

Going without water for a few hours felt like life came to a complete halt. Couldn't wash the dishes. Mom couldn't do her laundry. Had to go to the bathroom, but remembered that the toilet wouldn't flush, and even if it did, how would I wash my hands? Washing before starting the day has become such an instilled habit that I could not fathom a thing to do without using water first. After asking myself why maintenance didn't shut the water off at midnight last night and just do their business then, I started to think about the many people who have to live without water everyday. Right here in New York City. In third-world countries. On planets in other solar systems with creatures who probably brush their nostrils with mercury. They live. Not in remotely desirable conditions, but they live. I imagine……if they were to see me whining about not being able to shower for a few hours, they'd want put my head where JFK's upper back was on November 22^nd.

World's still spinning. Investors still investing. Bosses still being bossy. Squirrels still in pursuit of a tangible nut stash. Obama's still nubbing away at the mile-high stack of global problems.

Theaters are still being flooded with comic book films, completely damaging the novelty of them. "Watchmen", the unfilmable story, was recently released (although it was good). A sequel to the Punisher before that (which I will pass judgement on although I haven't seen it, that film should have been aborted as soon as it was brought up as an idea in the studio board room). Another Hulk film before that, and Iron Man. Samuel L. Jackson has just signed a deal to do 9, count it, 9 Marvel Universe films as the character Nick Fury. I love comic books and films, but Hollywood is viciously murdering the excitement for them. Ack……

Still looking for new work in an economic atmosphere that severely lacks it, despite the fact that huge pockets of money are just sitting and collecting dust in various parts of the country. Of the globe. I still have hope. Not hope that I'll find a job, but hope that I'll be alright in general. I hope and pray for everyone that change will come. The Revolution will not be televised!........well, actually, with everything from Brad Pitt's toilet visits to a low-budget reality series about old people being hit by speeding ambulances^{note below}, nothing goes without being televised at some point.

Bollocks.

^note:This content was completely imagined and made up by the author of this post, although evidence exists that shows that people are stupid enough to both film and be entertained by both of these things.

Welcome Home

The title being yet another song that's on my mind as I write this (the Coheed and Cambria one, not the Metallica one). A murky day is staring at me through the window. I'm here at the usual journaling spot, in front of the flat screen monitor with a steaming cup of lemon tea. I still have a response letter to my Southern friend, and guitar playing to practice, and blogs to read. But I'm thinking about the fact that I have to move.

-I came home one day, and my mother started to nag to me about the fact that I drunk up all of the tea and didn't tell her.
-I tried explaining that there was no logical reason for me to tell her all the tea was gone. I bought the box of tea, and after it finished, I would've simply gotten around (at some point) to buying a new box of tea.
-She rambled on about there always having been tea in the house as long as I've lived there. And at that point, I was yelling at her, so she told me not to raise my voice at her.
-I said I was yelling because she never listens to me. Ever since I was young, she's never listened (See "The Good, The Bad and The Anxious" for explanation of this feeling).
-She said she was listening and then she said if I raise my voice at her again, I'll be looking for a new place to live.
-I said it would probably be better if I was homeless. At least they (the homeless) know how to listen.
-She said if you feel that way, then you got 6 months to find another place to live.

We've talked and gotten over all of this………..but I think I should still move.

In no kind of relation to what I've just mentioned, I read a newspaper article yesterday, handed to me by a co-worker, stating that new Afghan law says that Shiite (Islamic) men now are permitted to ask demand sex from their wives every 4 days. If the wife does not submit, the man is allowed to take it from her. In order to attempt to cater to the obviously oppressed gender, the law also states that a woman is also allowed to demand sex from her husband every 4 months. I thought, this is entirely too monstrous to be real. If the Islamic nation was seeking to invite people to their religion, they should perhaps think about hiring a new Public Relations team.

In other events sought after to keep my mind off of the fact that my ideal self is nowhere close to being realized, I think that Latin American authors are the new move. This is author that I'm currently reading, Roberto Bolaño, is a master of the narrative. I am currently reading "The Savage Detectives", which is a sprawling work about two poets named Arturo Belano and Ulises Lima, seeking another well-known but under-published poet named Ceserea Tinajero (I think I spelled that right). The story is told in excerpts, like daily interviews or journal entries, from the viewpoints of many characters in the novel. Very accessible and interesting read. I can only attempt to mimic his writing style here.