a year

It's now been a year since I left London.

I haven't even looked at my passport in quite some time, and this morning I dug it out to use as ID to open up a new bank account. I was looking through the stamps and reading the dates, and then I saw the department of homeland security stamped september 30, 2007, the day I flew into JFK from Gatwick. It was an interesting flight, I had a layover in Bermuda that I was not aware of until after receiving e-mail confirmation on my flight on Zoom, which has now gone bankrupt. So has Washington Mutual, making me once again a Chase customer. That's going to change today though, as Chase and I have already had quite the falling out together.

It seems like everyone is going bankrupt, Wall Street, WaMu, America, and soon me probably.

It's so funny how much can happen in just one year's time.

china

Yesterday, in order to get the attention of my Father, I left him a voice mail saying that I'm moving to China. It's something that I'm even a bit surprised that I've done. We don't speak, all because of money, and a few of my lifestyle choices I'm sure.


So many people have told me throughout my life, "it's all about the money" (but you have to say "money" with a real Italian accent, to make yourself sound like even more of an asshole). I think everyone is wrong, that it really isn't about the mawney, that it's about being happy. But apparently, my Dad disagrees. He doesn't want to share his wealth, and I don't want to hear about his new Porsche, so it's lead to this. Me having to say that I'm doing something so big as moving across the world to a Communist country, just to get a call back. I'm telling myself that I'm not going to call him back, I want to leave him wondering why and how I might be going to China, how long will I be gone? I want him to really lament the loss of his only son, his only child, that he neglects and leaves in financial ruin and bankruptcy, even though he has no one to care for but himself, and plenty of money. But it's hard to resist the urge to call him back, because it's obvious that I just want to have a relationship with him. I'm fine with not mentioning anything financial, I'm content with just talking about our dogs, or the past.

I probably shouldn't bother with any of this shit.

the big meats

ONE WEEK

Cigarette free. Not to brag, but I'm doing it without any sort of gums or patches or any of that shit. It's on my own. I'm just going without.

I've just turned into a crazy asshole. I've always been a bit neurotic, but now I'm just a cranky jerk with huge mood swings. It makes me really fun to be around, so I've spent quite a bit of time reading, and the rest of my time blaming everything on my dog. I thought that after a few days, the cravings would sort of subside. I really believed that after a week, I wouldn't still pine for that first cigarette of the day after that first big meal, but no, the feeling is still glaringly there. I am going to hold out though, in hopes that it will get better, but with gritted teeth.

Thanks, David Sedaris. I don't think I could do it without you right now.

brunch money

After working two lovely outdoor brunches this weekend, I am exhausted. Not really physically, but more so that now that I'm home, I don't even know what to do with myself. I feel like I make myself so frazzled with customers, when I take it personally that sometimes people do not tip as well as others, and that some people are just assholes to anyone, not just me. It' s hard to unwind.

I'm also not drinking for an entire week, and have quit smoking. I am on day 4 of no cigarettes, and I am feeling like it's getting a bit better, but I'm getting sick of hearing myself talk about it. When I do, it only leaves me wanting one. But I know better, I need to reassure myself that I can do this, and have jumped higher hurdles.

So there goes my "unwinding" tricks, sadly. I'm going to start taking a knitting class soon though!

But I digress. I'm getting more tattoos, and that's exciting.


This is the basis for it. I want it to be these two flowers on my upper arm.

I haven't gotten a tattoo in quite a while, and I feel like they have marked periods in my life, and well, it's time to mark a new one.

(in progress)...

hipster?

This is the closest likeness I've found to a woman I had the pleasure of waiting on the other night. She was dining with another older women and two younger girls, maybe in their late teens or early twenties, all definitely from either a distant suburb or somewhere much further away.

After a few niceties and appetizer orders, I came back to the table to be asked if I could be asked a personal question.

"yes, I'm gay", I was thinking.

But the question was a far more surprising one.

"do you want to ask him or should I dear?" this woman asks the younger girl.

"Please don't be offended, but are you a hipster?"

It wasn't that I was offended. But I was already having quite the night and did not know what to say.

I in turn asked her what she would consider a hipster to be. And she responded by saying that I probably have a bike and wear deep-V t-shirts. Mind you, I was wearing a raspberry "deep-v" and I did point out my bike just outside the window, which she in turn pointed out to be the same color as my pen. BUT I'm not a hipster I said. I told her I didn't like the word, and she kept asking me how I pick out my clothes and asking which art school I went to.

Where has she heard this before? It's not that I think the so-called hipster culture isn't across the whole country, but why is she asking me this. I feel like she might as well have asked me if I was a homosexual.

"Oh, look Meg, is that one of those homosexuals I've heard about? Maybe you should ask him? "

"Oh, YOU ASK HIM MOM!"

So I referred them to an article I had recently read in Adbusters, called, "Hipster: The Dead End of Western Civilization". I actually disagreed with the article quite a bit, found it a bit self-loathing, etc., but I honestly didn't know what to tell them.

Of course, I had a good laugh with everyone I work with over what I was just asked. But it left me asking myself bigger questions. Do I really want to be pegged as belonging in some bullshit faux subculture, so some woman can ask me this, and what am I expected to say? It's not like we believe in ANYTHING. But maybe that's the point. It's all fucking pointless.

I feel like my generation just realizes that everything is pointless, we're completely lost and so is the point.

At least punks have anarchy and yuppy dude bros have that bullshit game where you throw the sacks into that box all day long. I mean, what do I stand for?

This is not to say that if you are say, a straight edge vegan, you are somehow vindicated from it all because you supposedly stand for something. Because when you sign your name with x's next to it with your phone number and give it our 18 year old hostess and tip me .50 cents and when asked about it, threatent to take me outside, I'm sorry, but you're just a douche bag.

intro.

I suppose a blog like this needs some sort of introduction to begin with, somewhere to start, a place to bring context to the content.

Most importantly, I've been meaning to start one of these for quite some time. I think starting it is definitely half the battle, a battle that will only be "half-won" if I continue to write in here. My prediction is that this blog will be used as many blogs are, as an outlet for ranting and raving. I just hope I use it.

But I digress...

I feel like shit from a day of decadence yesterday.