Bustle

Finally finished that History of NYC 7-Disc documentary. I feel like the smartest New Yorker in town. Did you know that…
- Manhattan was bought from Native-Americans for approx $600, it was supposed to just be a temporary thing but we basically refused to honor the agreement (suprise, suprise)
- the British seized “New Amsterdam” from its Dutch inhabitants, renamed it, and gave it to the Duke of York as a birthday present
- Brooklyn was its own city until about 100yrs ago
- most all of the city’s museums, libraries, and theaters were privately funded, constructed, and established
- originally, when France sent us the Statue of Liberty, they sent it in chunks and the first peice to float over along the river was her hand. New York was too poor to afford the platform for the whole statue, so the big hand sat on a crosswalk section of 5th Ave for 5 years
- there was once a big barricade setup along a big street across the bottom of the island to keep out immigrants, which they later called Wall Street
- the Brooklyn Bridge was the first of its kind and took 14yrs to complete
- the A train is the longest subway ride in the world (31 miles from 207th St in Manhattan to Far Rockaway in Queens)
- during the Depression, the city goverment shipped the sheep out of Central Park’s Sheep Meadow to a farm upstate, b/c they worried starving people would sneak into the park and kill the sheep for food

(I’m just endlessly fascinated by this stuff)

I couldn’t get outta work and up to my house fast enough. Felt like a really long and endless night @ work, sometimes it seems like I have no clue what’s going on around me there… just getting through all the arrivals is my goal. Anyway, I was just tearing through that subway station trying to get on that A train about to pull out, shoving and bustling like you wouldn’t believe. Just one of those nights where it seemed like EVERYONE was standing directly in my way. I don’t know if it’s the weather or what, but the people of New York seem dumber. No one knows how to walk, they all just keep walking into each other. I think it’s all the extra layers we’re wearing.

Oh, and I’ve got no clue what’s going on with my hair lately. For real, there’s just no real excuse. If you see me on the street, please just pretend not to notice. I’m trying to get it together, man.

Can we talk about what a flaming metrosexual Dave Navarro is? I know everyone’s sick of that word but I been employing that shit since way back before the gay summer of 2003, and I don’t use it carelessly. This rockstar kid has blatantly made out with other rockstuds, wears some of the gayest outfits known to man, rocks more eyeliner than a whore, and yet all I wanna do is wish him and his gorgeous girl a storybook life together. I was watching the new episode of Carmen & Dave (which I HIGHLY prefer over that Nick & Jessica crap) and I just think he’s the coolest shit on TV. Cracked me up @ how into the wedding-planning he is — here’s this leather-clad, tattooed, Satan-esque rocker sitting in a room full of women talking about flower arrangements and making sure the bouquet matches his suit. I love it.

Also loving The Inferno, and that shit ain’t even officially started yet. Coral. Julie. Shane. C.T. Veronica. God, I love these fools. As God is my witness and as long as MTV can keep churning out this drama, my Monday nights will never be dull. And also? if I might be direct: Dan, why aren’t you doing The Inferno? You and Coral killed me on the Real World Hook-Ups DVD (“

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“) and we so needed you on this Challenge. I need to know what happened and I don’t think I can hold off and do the whole week-to-week thing. Between you and my trusty informant Melissa, I know ya’ll are privy to the shit that went down. Come join the slam party! Divulge that shit, man!

I’ve been all pensive and penetant lately to the tunes of Caedmon’s Call, who I’ve loved forever. “There You Go” is the damn anthem. These guys are fellow Houstonians (act like you know, ya’ll) and they just make beautiful, lovely songs — most of them about identity and spirituality and finding purpose and faith. Yes, FAITH. They’re Christians and we respect that up in here. Jesus is my homeboy, yo.

Had another funass night @ Urge earlier this week (with Adam, Randy, some old faces, and the drag queens), playing bingo and watching Buffy. Not all of my friends got to make it, but it was stilla great time. I think that playing bingo touches on something in my persona that doesn’t much get tapped too often. For that short round, I’m all giddy and excited and not thinking about any of my usual ramblings, blathers, or torments. It’s so rare for me to get the hell out of my head like that, so I really enjoy playing. And of course, Buffy is just always fun to watch no matter what’s going on.

So, I’ve got three days off looking at me and the pressure is just a little bit overwhelming. I think I’ll start it all out with a trip to Target and follow up with some running around midtown. The snow and winds are supposed to be lessening these next few days, so I’m up for maybe stepping out into the world beyond my apartment for a bit. I definately need to get some groceries, cuz scrambled eggs and chorizo does not a solid diet make. Mom would beat my ass.

Toros In the Atmosphere

January 28th, 2004

19

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Perking Up

January 25th, 2004

The Golden Globes happened tonight and I totally forgot to record them. As long as Charlize Theron won for “Monster” and “Lost In Translation” won something, I don’t care what happened. But I pretty much concur with the entire track listing for the Grammy Nominees 2004 CD. “Stacey’s Mom”, Clocks”, and “Beautiful” all got recognized and most all of those other songs were damn anthems. I haven’t been this supportive since the oldschool CD of 1996.

So, coping with my loss of the prime Concierge spot — yes, I’m still pouting, man — has gotten more and more simple to deal with: I just keep telling myself that it’s a department that sucks and everyone who works over there is a loser. This actually works for me most of the time, until one of them comes to me at the desk and says something like, “Dude, can you break these hundreds? My tips are outrageous today and I need some $20′s for the cab ride home.” Trying hard to be content with my shit, man, but I’m just pissy, dammit. Today I was standing @ the desk, typing, and I next to Frank (the kid who got the spot), and a manager strolled over, shook his hand, and congratulated him on getting the Concierge position. “That’s huge man!” he exclaimed. “You’re moving on up!” Frank just chuckled and was like, “Yeah, I had a feeling I’d be moved over there sooner or later. I can’t wait.” I had to refrain myself from gripping the computer keyboard and smacking him across the face with it. I’m almost done pouting over this, I promise. Fortunately, I still posess my Front Desk secret weapon/superpower — Comp Upgrades!!! — and not only does it save the day, but often gets me hooked the hell up. Just this past weekend it actually got me some of those, tickets to see that, and entrance to play there anytime I want. I guess there are still some perks floating around my end of the hotel stratosphere afterall.

I rented Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? this weekend. This movie used to trip me out when I was little. I think Bette Davis singlehandedly made me scared of old women (“But ya ARE, Blanche! Ya are in the wheelchair!”), I was always just afraid they’d tie me up and kick me across the floor. Later on in life, I grew to find this as more of a turn-on when older women would tie me up and assault me on the floor… but this isn’t a red shoe diary. Ohhh, speaking of…

No offense to any of the cool peeps who read this here site, but remember how I linked to my screen name before? Yeah, that was sort of a dumb idea… cuz ALL OF YOU have begun buzzing me on the regular. No, like, for real. All of you. Some of you have even done the dreaded “U R SO KEWL, BOI!” shit. Err… while I love the attention, I think I should make it clear that I don’t plan to build a new network of chatbuds or friendsters anytime soon, not do I plan to start letting total strangers come crash at my place during their trips to New York this spring. I’m so glad you all really like reading my journal, cuz I really enjoy putting it out there and spreading my neurosis! I’m also glad that some of you think I have pretty eyes (they’re contact lenses). But guys, I’m probably not going to start chatting with ya on a regular basis, or linking to your AOL & Yahoo Geocities homepages… it’s just not really what I’m trying to do with my journal, and it sort of breaks up the lovely distance that exists between us. I’m a LOT more interesting from a safe distance, trust. But blog on and good luck, dudes. May the force be with you; may you eventually cease using text messaging as an actual reference for grammar and sentance structure, may you finally secure a webhost and proper domain, and may you one day have readers of your own to tease, taunt, and reject at your every whim. Progress, right?

I’ve got 4 days off from work this week, and starting tomorrow, I’m off to kick it with Randyboy. He’s dogsitting @ that downtown loft again and I can’t wait to cramp his style, dammit. Ahhh, the joys of life below 14th Street: egg & bacon sandwiches on the corner, Pearl River Mart, bootleg CD’s aplenty, and all of lower east side splendor at my beckoning call. It’s a good thing.

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Aimlessly

January 22nd, 2004

Why the hell did I record and watch The Surreal Life 2 tonight? That crap is seriously some of the worst TV I’ve ever seen… yet I’m just compelled to watch. Erik Estrada. Vanilla Ice. Tammy Faye Baker. With a special cameo appearance by Gary Coldman? This all just scurrs me. And what the hell is up with Trishelle? No, for real, I have some questions here… Between doing this damn show and skanking it up on The Real World: Las Vegas, the Playboy centerfold, skanking it up on The Gauntlet, getting punked for being a skank on that episode of Punk’d, crying about how hard it is to be a gorgeous skank in that Off-Broadway play last summer, and skanking it up on (upcoming) The Inferno, when the hell does this girl do anything else? I like how Erik Estrada was all reaching out to Vanilla, his compassion and fatherly advice sort of restored my faith in the humanity of has-been TV stars from the 70′s. Cuz it’d been lacking for awhile there. And yeah, Tammy Faye was cute and all, but she doesn’t even seem to know, does she? That she’s like, on a TV show. I love it.

I got outta work around midnight tonight and, knowing the deli’s and markets in my hood would be closed by the time I got home, sprung for some Domino’s. Had it delivered to me straight to the hotel and lugged that steaming goodness on the A train uptown with me. I’m pretty sure everyone on the train probably found it in bad taste for me to be sitting amongst the homeless with a warm pizza in hand (and clutching a 2-liter coke to my bosom), and for a moment I struggled with some guilt over it… but I eventually just plugged in my headphones and kept my eyes on the floor till I got to my stop. God bless the homeless people of this world, man, I know they’ve got it hellish and awful… but you know what though? so do the working-class twentysomethings in this world who’ve got rents, bills, and student loans to pay. I earned that pizza money, dammit, and I’ll flaunt my Meatlovers up and down the nation if the feeling moves me. Woot.

Been relistening to some old songs lately. I’d forgotten how good “All I Really Want” by Alanis Morissette actually is. K’s Choice had some kickass tracks back in the day, too. Remember that “Not An Addict” song? It was the damn anthem of my 10th grade Angst Period.

A mass memo to all the bored, AIM-less 9-to-5ers trapped out there behind the company firewall: I feel you guys. I remember the solitude, how much it sucked trying to get all my ubercool AOL friends to sign up on lesser-loved Yahoo Instant Messenger (still my preferred IM of choice) so you could chat the hours away. FEAR NOT, cubicle kids — look into AIM Express, it lets you sign onto AIM w/o having to download and install the program! Woo-hoo! I might be a little late to the game on this, but it definately puts me in touch with my peeps when I’m stuck at the damn front desk at work for too long. Now go bookmark that shit and shout your dawgs out.

Plans for tomorrow (my eagerly anticipated day off) will include a restocking of basic groceries, answering back some calls and e‘s, reading the new Entertainment Weekly that I get every Friday, chowing down on more chorizo, and touching base with a longlost friend or two. I’ve been way too out of the loop these days. Maybe I’ll put my Christmas tree away, even.

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Thud

January 22nd, 2004

UPDATE: they gave the Concierge spot to another boy at the desk. A really nice, cool, excessively talkative 20yr old kid who still lives at home with his parents on the Upper East Side and probably doesn’t have any real need for such a lucritive, well-connected and in-the-loop kind of job like this one. A kid who’s only been at the hotel for about 2 months (trained by me), was able to skip the whole Overnight Shift rite of passage and slide right into Friday & Saturdays off, and just decided one day that he wanted to hop aboard the Concierge Train. But whatever. It was a loooong night @ work for me, and that happy little fucker was just in the bestest mood ever.

Ugh, I can’t be mad at anyone but me. I should have campaigned harder, should have been more vocal about my interest in the position. This other guy simply wanted it more and moved quicker. My boss has assured me that I’m next in line the moment something @ Concierge opens up, but we both know better than that. It’s not like people work that job and one day just get absolutely sick of making insane amounts of money in tips or getting to eat free all over town or have totall acess to Manhattan’s VIP lists. I’m lucky if I EVER get away from that damn desk… I’m trying to be over it, already. Adding more fuel to this fire, T-Mobile deducted last month’s massive charges from my checking account this morning before I remembered to unenroll from that stupid direct debit payment program… now I’m fucking broke. All this shit, man. Just helps me see that I need to do a little less thinking and a lot more DOING. At least next time, if the opportunity opens up again, I won’t waste time doubting anything.

I can’t stop listening to that stupid Hillary Duff song about falling rain. Yes, that’s right: HILARY. DUFF. Shut up, all of you. I’d rather be pouting along to Coldplay, but now that I know how happy Chris Martin is with a wife and baby, the gloom has comepletely lost its luster.

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