oooh these
Little Earthquakes
12/11/99
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There wuz an earthquake last night. It wuz brief and uncatastrophic but I felt that fucker. 4am-ish, making out with my open Cm guitar on my bed, the wall in front of me sets to shakin', there is noise, I am rattled, and my heart is pounding. And if an earthquake of that wimpy magnitude would unsettle me that much imagine "The Big One".
Had a job interview today. At the Levi's store on Robson. Amusing, since I don't think I even own a pair of jeans, let alone a pair of Levi's. (I don't suppose that matters... ) Nevertheless it wuz a decently cool interview. I have vague hope I think, the guy liked me.
One of his questions (all of which were typical make-you-squirm job interview questions) wuz "If you were a cartoon character who would you be?"
What the-?
The only female cartoon characters I could think of were Jessica Rabbit, Betty Boop, and Lisa Simpson.
"Um... I'd say I'm... Lisa Simpson. And... Betty Boop."
"Really. That's interesting. Why?"
"Hmm... Because I... (oh God, just give me the fucking job or throw me back out on the street)
Because I ...like fun. But I also like ...intelligence." __What the fuck?
"Good answer!" Great.
That interview lasted all of five minutes. Sitting on a shelf in front of a giant video screen at the back of the store while the other retail sales kids hovered about trying to overhear and assess their potential future coworker. (I'm making it sound worse than it wuz. I wuzn't nervous, and it wuzn't all that awkward.)
You know, considering I failed "career and personal planning" in highschool I handle these interview things fairly well. And without entirely jetisoning my self. I'll get a freakin' job eventually. In the meantime I'm having fun with the laughable job searching process.
I'm the man and you're the man and he's the man as well.
I can't wait to get me full time job and make me some dough and sell out to The Man. That's my goal. I'm goin' Courtney Love on this. I seemed to be on your side didn't I? Like I chose the school of hard knocks. Like I wuz going to stick it out with the rest of y'all till my dying day? Nah. I just want shitloads of money, like any other bastard. Lots and lots of money. Money and nookie. And fancy-assed superexpensive clothes. I want to make that big gap between the rich and the poor even fucking bigger. With me way over there on the Very Fucking Rich side. Not that some retail sales job with a bunch of other twenty somethings will buy me Malibu, I suffer no illusions there, but... I will act like it does. Because that is the way I am. You thought I wuz the morally astute, politically aware freedom fighter didn't ya? Well, I don't give a shit. It's all about ME. First, last, always.
Me, me, me.
It's nice to be liked,
but it's better by far to get paid...
-Liz Phair
Shit I wuz up so late last night. Up with the earthquake. I suppose I would have slept through that if I had gone to bed earlier. That's about all I would have missed. That and endlessly trite conversations with random icq losers. I hate that so much, it's super-late, you're fucking tired, these people are messaging you with pointless drivel that will never ever lead to anything worth your time at all, you want to go to bed, these people are boring you to all hell, yet you can't pull yourself away. You keep trying to turn these idiots into something useful to you.
"Let's talk about metaphysics!"
Any fucking thing to get out of the dull icq rut of 'tell me about yourself', 'can we be friends?', 'what do you do?'... blablabla
Yet I stick around longer and later each night it seems. Because at that point I am so bruised and sad and lonely from lack of sleep and lack of human company, and lack of the hint of sex (metaphorically or literally) that I will keep hoping the next moron will be an interesting moron. And it never is. Just more hopeless fodder for the population control justification theories.
Who will love me now?
Who will ever love me?
And here I am again, only this time I am being told gushy dumb love stories by family members who I would otherwise enjoy the general existance of. I don't want to hear it, people! Shut up! How madly, blindly in love they are. How happy, they are fuckin downright blissed out of their fucking minds, forward-looking with smiles and high hopes and calendars made invisible by the sweet sensuality filling all their days. Don't talk to me about your fucking love life when I am not getting any. "Love is nothing nothing nothing like they say. You gotta get up and work the people everyday." -Liz Phair. "Love is everything they said it would be." -Jane Sibery.
Teach me how to love
my brothers who don't know the law
I wuz down at first beach today. English bay, sitting on the beach in the dark, singing Bjork's anchor song softly to myself, with waves coming at me. "... things like this make me sick, in a case like this I'll get away with it..." (I LIVE BY THE OCEAN) Thinking about that time lying on that beach in the pouring rain in the middle of the night and it wuz a fun thing to do because I wuz with someone who got me confusing lust with love. You're never cold or wet (and you'll fall asleep anywhere) when you think you love someone. But desire and love are not the same thing at all. And I'm cold now.
And wet.
And sleepless.
I wuz thinking, "I don't want to be mad at him anymore." I was thinking in cliche's, "Life is too short," all that. But then I realized the only reason I don't want to be mad at him anymore is cuz I would be more likely to get my things back from him (I want that book back. Two books actually. Body Thief. Life After God.)
if I wuzn't so fucking pissed off at him. And I am a bit of a ..prick. What the hell use is he to me if I can't have his body? A friend? I don't need another friend, maybe you do. The only reason I maintained a friendship with him to begin with wuz because I wanted him. I got him. For a while. And now? Why would I bother keeping in touch with him? What's in it for me? He's a lousy fucking friend. But he had great potential as a lover. The latter I will not get to explore again, so he is of no use to me.
Then get the fuck out of my mind!
My neglected libido is going to take over my free will very soon.
I have Bob Marley's "No Woman No Cry" playing now. Live. Warmth. Sun. Music.
I think I like this version better. The chorus is repeated more, and I love that chorus. It feels good. and I hear more sun in this one. I hear New York in the Fugees' version.
songs ... "Somebody".
The original Depeche Mode version or the Veruca Salt version,
it don't matter, they're both beautiful.
And Tom Waits "Yesterday is Here". I wish I had a comment on that one, but the song speaks for itself.
Fuck. I'm getting depressive. I think I'll go make myself something hot to drink and lie under the Christmas tree till this passes. Agh, no. I'm going to bed.