New York: adventures of the other white nigga.
2003-06-13 - 9:10 a.m.
June13. got the check from my parents just in time to buy much-needed food, though i might have been able to survive another couple days on ramen. sprained a tendon while lifting weights. today�s plan includes poking around Albany to find a place where Mitch can get a new gas tank for his Datsun, and putting gas into my car, and thinking about how long it my be, before Jade gets a new muffler. Another meeting with Beth at 2pm.
June12. Interview at Stewart�s take two. talked with Ms. Manager (who will henceforth be called �Beth� in this diary) who told me there�s another Stewart�s in Clifton Parks where i can get some additional/overtime work. i tried on the shirt, and it fit, for the most part.
Stewart�s Orientation, take one. can i have things that make your head tilt off at an odd angle for 100$, alex? whereupon, such things were questioned of us: �think about the way the shop is set up, the customer doesn�t have access to the tobacco or register, right?� to which i nearly answered, �well, i imagine the cash register is bolted to the counter, so if someone came in with a couple friends and two circular saws�� but such answers remained inside my mouth, because i really do need this job, any job. and the videos we watched, about how GREAT is a n acronym for service which is only moderately good, and instructions on how to and how not to smile, �remember to always smile at the customer as soon as they come in�don�t make any quick movements, because the guy with the gun is probably more nervous than you are�smile, gawdamnit, you�re in a happy place!�when the customer gets to the register, it�s already too late to sell them something in addition to what them came there to buy, so make sure to start influencing their minds before they get to the counter�the more people are in the store, the more people you need to take your time and sell extra stuff to�� et alii. this, interestingly enough, tied right into Mitch-Mike-Tim�s theory on the downfall of America because it has changed into a service-oriented economy. the rest of the day was spent trying to find a good LAN game to play, and eventually giving up. Want a game done right, got to code it yourself.
i assume now that i have quit smoking, officially. little more oxygen in your day really makes the difference�note that i�ve been posting longer and more frequently (though i�m sure there are many other factors, like that i haven�t had a job or school to go to). anyhow, i wanted to make the comment that when you�re a smoker, and you happen upon a lighter discarded somewhere, and it works, you think you�ve just found a babyload of treasure. until i quit (this time, as opposed to the quitting i used to do every month, and/or because i had run out), i never gave a thought to where these lighters come from (because matches can be gotten for free at any Store24). not that i�ve been off them for a while, i have nothing to do with a lighter, and so might as well discard it. but it just so happens that both of the lighters i own now were previously discarded. odd. odd that i never noticed this phenomenon of abandoned lighters before, because i probably would have made some comment about the correlation of smokers �taking in� things off the street in much the same manner that they pick up a lighter, or something about how the BIC Corporation should be shaken-down to come up with orphanages for all of these lighters that have entered this transitional stage in their fluid levels [lives]. odd that we don�t seem to grasp the underlying cultural message of the discarded lighter when we pick it up, like poking a sleeping skunk that you thought was dead. the lighter says, �i stopped smoking, no because it was killing me and it wasn�t cool anymore, but because i up an realized one day that it�s not an important part of my life/me.�
June11. for some reason, the money i sent to Suny@Albany back in january didn�t clear, and i found out about this�beranklement�today, at which point i promptly got unrankled and sent them the money again, for the first time�luckily for me, the KeyBank account i stared a while ago just recently came through, or else i wouldn�t have had access to it, and tomorrow i likely would�ve spent it on less important things, such as food. [jeeze, what would i have been thinking?]
Dream: i am a puppet, crossed between a marionette and a wind-up toy, but minus Pinocchio�s happy-go-lucky attitude. for the whole dream i can hear a boy�s voice in my head, as if my thoughts were being played on a tiny phonograph, each a different track��for as long as i can remember, we have been setting a trap for bears when we camp at night. one big log attached to a rope with a hook on the other end, and a tiny scrap of meat to lure them in. the trap didn�t do very well at bears, and as i grew up i figured that there were no bears in these hills���it was a tradition, a way to teach me to grow into an honest man. when father was not happy with me, i rolled the log up the hill by myself, else we did it together, and it gave us something to do���father seems to be getting old now, and it seems a while since we took this trip. the woods have changed, but he still puts a log trap up, and i help��in the middle on the night i awaken, thinking i am hearing a noise, but father is still asleep. note that the hook is bare, probably taken by some crow, or did we forget to put the meat on it? suddenly i feel very thirsty, and walk over to the water. by the time i hear the log fall down, it�s already too late, and i�m knocked into the water of the river, embarrassed because i must have gotten the hook stuck on my foot and set it off. to my surprise, i see the hook above the water, clear as day, and it falls in after me, meaning that i didn�t trigger the trap. i grab for it from under the water to make sure i don�t get stuck on it while trying to get out. then something pulls me under the water, pinches me on the left upper leg, hard. screaming, drowning, more pinching. turn and see a deformed shape of a man, in dark blues and greens and waving in the water, he�s smaller than me, like a toy version of me, but i can�t see his face. the meat hook from the trap is in his left hand, and he keeps pinching me with his right. the log must have fallen on top of me because i can�t seem to get back to the surface, though the water seemed shallow. thrashing, drowning, pinching dying. end dream. still confused about why a puppet-boy would have use for a drink of water, or why it would hurt him to be pinched�or if the shape in the water was the puppet, and the first-person prospective was from a �real� boy. my analysis of it describes what i already knew, that i�m having a hard time becoming real.
June10. driving Ran (Mike�s girlfiend) all over north troy to find a five-hour driver�s-ed course, bad directions from Yahoo, and can barely figure out what she�s saying, if at all. Tells me to turn after already having past it, though she says she knows the roads very well. stopped and asked some construction workers for directions, only to find out we were in Watervliet, several towns and a river away from our destination. though i have to admit, i was paid for gas, and did get a good amount of standard-transmission driving experience, and it was pretty damn funny hearing her half-whisper from the back seat to Mitch about my driving when we picked her up, �we broke a lot of laws�� Then I got home and complained to Mitch about bad smells coming from the car, and noises, and we figured out that the muffler had rusted off the tailpipe and had half-fallen out.
Interview at Stewart�s, take one. for those of you who do not live in New York, Stewart�s is the name for a chain of gas stations in the area, which insists on being listed as a convenience store in the phone book. they pride themselves on service though none of the stores are full-serve or even half-serve stations. in some stores, the food is protected by a thin layer of dust. the manager person talked to me in low tones, got irritated with the employees that worked there already for having looked at her paycheck, and just talked in general about her definition of the store as a convenience store (though it really is just a gas station). funny thing is, this is my fifth time filling out the application, and i used short, sarcastic answers to the questions, whereas before i had used longer statements that actually made sense. �what do you like most about Stewart�s?� �the view.� �there are many places to work, why do you want to work at Stewart�s?� �because I couldn�t find a job anywhere else.� And this is the only one that called me back. Says something about what you can do, when you put your mind to it an try not to be who you are.
In other news: started buckling down to ease up on the coke addiction (something i do to some extent every summer), though it�s not too promising, because if i do get the job at Stewart�s, i get to drink all the coke i want, on the job, at 50% off.
June9. have officially applied to every Stewart�s that is known to be in this area, might just have to head to rite-aid tomorrow�thinking about going back to the kamph of Meine. but for a moment, at the end of today, i had food (ramen), live music (guitar), running water, and a good friend, all in the same room, at the same time. for a moment, though i am still on the bottom of the barrel, i was rich. Daidle deedle daidle, Daidle daidle deedle daidle dum�
The following has not, and likely will not ever happen.
Me, talking to guys on the corner, in the style of the american jesus and totally full of myself: Yea, I was hotwiring my car the other day, cool shyte.
Guy#1: Shiet man, if I coul� so that, I�d be buzzin� in a Ferrari, you kno? Whooum-whooum�
Guy#2: yea, you gotta show us how to do that, man�
Me: when one considers how far this skill can get him, he should weight two weights on one scale, and those weights be �whooum-whooum� and �respect�. the ferrari might get you down the street, but respect can actually get you somewhere in life, support you while your down and help you mold yourself into a better person�
Guy#2: yea, i�m all over that, word is bond, i got this one of my hommie yo, who never has a car, he�s always bummin� a ride yo. just like that, right? �cept�well, my boyz and i don�t really respect him either�
Tim is talking to his girlfriend�something about how gays are not empoered by god. even if all the faggots of the world are going to burn in hell (use the slang here only because it�s in the same sentence as burn)�who the frig cares? and of all people, why should the people who have invited themselves to heaven, why should they care? i don�t think you go to hell because you�re gay, and i don�t think you go to heaven or hell for gay-bashing�not like homosexuality is contagious, so why bother worrying about it, unless to ostracize someone who has a gay child, or replace the �but why, father?� question with a higher line of �because father says so�.
i have taken to writing a number on my hand everyday, that i might better understand the meaning behind the intensity of numbers, and thus think in a more mathematical form. today�s number is 23. the number of minutes i have on my phonecard. my favourite number plus one. a number of people, way back when, who did something important, but are now forgotten.
Revelation: When you get really farr down into the dark crevices of the human mind, procrastination can save your life.
