Sunday, October 30, 2005

Gio got hit by a drunk driver last night. He was killed instantly. He was instantly killed. He was killed in an instant.

My friend Gio is dead.

So what's next?

I'm wondering if Mr. Steve will come back for the funeral? If so, what then? Will he stay? Will he go again? Will Caitlin and Brigid come home from San Francisco? Will we all fall down? What is the meaning of life? Should we buy a vowel?

I don't want to do anything. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to take a shower. I don't want to eat. I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to be alone. Everyone else is at Rho and Jimmie's right now. I can't go. I have to be alone. Their energy is too much for me.

Ben called me twice. The first time I picked it up and just listened to him. The second time I picked up and neither of us said anything for a while. Then he hung up. What is there to say? Nothing. What is there to do? Nothing. Gio's parents are handling everything. They've already flown to San Francisco to claim his body.

Miss Ennui won't get out of bed, either. She's not talking to anyone. Her High Priest wants to kill Katrin and me. That's what he said when he called to tell me to fuck off and go to hell this morning. See? I shouldn't even pick up the phone.

I don't want to do anything. I don't want to get out of bed. I just want this grief to move through me like a headache or a wave.

My life feels worthless right now. I have no value. Everything I try to do comes to nothing. I don't know why I am here. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I want to take a nap and never wake up again.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 4:39 PM
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Saturday, October 22, 2005

So I'm sitting here watching L&OSVU and putting labels on my brochures. I'm switching to another office so I can start all over in real estate. Won't this be fun? I just can't wait to start all over again at a new agency. I love starting over. It's so fun. It's just so much fun. Getting to know a whole new office is so much fun. Getting to know all the procedures, and who to go to and talk to about this or that. I love it. It's so much fun. It's so much fun being the new girl. I just love it so much. It's so fun to spend all my money on new business cards and new signs. I just have so much fun starting over all the time.

I've been working for a temp agency. It's okay. It's the same as school. Just show up. Until I get some activity in real estate, that'll be. I don't care. As long as I have something coming in. I've been working with Rho to sell RM and EY's jewelry. Everyone we've shown the brochure to has gone completely bananas for it. It'll be cool selling it because people want it and they can afford it. Unlike property. People want property, but hardly can afford it.

I can't give up on real estate yet because I'm too good at it. Everyone else is fucked. I'm just stupid. I just need a decent office and some money in my purse. Once I've got that, I'll be fine. You know why? Because I'm so smart, that's why. I'm so damn smart. Everyone tells me how smart I am all the fucking time. My daddy came back over just to tell me how smart I am. I'm kind of tired of hearing it. I just want to see it in action.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 5:48 PM
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Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Why do I have the hugest crush on Grant Wilson of Ghost Hunters? I have no idea. He's not my usual type. He's married with three kids. He's on the Atlantic Coast and we'll never meet. What's the deal? God I need a fucking job.

Yesterday we went down to Irvine to see RM and EY. We'll be selling their jewelry everywhere. They just launched this new company and they don't have enough consultants yet. I didn't want to do it because I hate that kind of shit, but actually after seeing the stuff I'm okay with it. It's nice stuff, not gaudy, quality. RM designed it all himself. He's so funny. I'm so over Real Estate. I just don't give a shit anymore. Everyone in Real Estate can go fuck themselves.

Let me tell you the truth about Real Estate. Everyone is a motherfucker as soon as it comes to buying or selling property. They string you along and talk crazy shit so they can keep getting free information from you. Imagine a job where you do everything on spec. All the prep, all the research and analysis, all the consultation, all the work. You pay for the advertising up front and you knock yourself the fuck out. Meanwhile, the greedy motherfucker commonly known as the seller, just wants more. They just want you to sell it faster and for more money. They don't want to get the property ready for sale, though. They don't want to clean, or dress, or stage, or make necessary repairs, or take any of your professional advice at all. They just want you to sell their piece of shit nightmare for top dollar before lunchtime even though they won't allow you to put a lockbox on or accommodate access. And I hate them all.

The buyers are worse. They make you chase them down and they say they're pre-approved for ungodly amounts of money and that they're desperate to buy. It's all bunch of bullshit. They're too shy to buy and they complain about the prices like you're an Asian rice merchant and you've jacked the prices for the outsiders and will come down 75% if you just ask right. They don't know what they want and they don't know how to answer your questions so you can't get inside their head. You knock yourself out for them without a commitment. You shop and preview and tour. You find places that are perfect for them, but they won't come and look. Then they don't call you back and they don't answer your email. So you forget about them because time is money and you can't spend time on people who won't generate any money for you. Then as soon as you've cursed and forgotten them, they call you all irate that you haven't found them a property and they accuse you of being flakey and unprofessional and not caring about their needs. Instead of leaping across the table and kicking them in the face, you start at the beginning and interview them again. After telling you the exact opposite of what they said before, you assure them you will be able to find the property for them and you ask them to commit to you. They mention their friend who is a realtor. You ask them again for a commitment. They say that if you find them the right property they'll buy it through you. You go looking again and again you find them the perfect property and again they ditch you.

You go home and open all your bills and contemplate suicide. You realize why everyone in Real Estate is a bunch of sleazy whores. You'd have to be to put up with it, wouldn't you?

I love property and I think everyone deserves a home of their own. But Real Estate is a vicious horrible industry full of filthy pigs. I've heard the porn and organized crime industries are worse, but I'm not so sure. Fuck it all. I just want a job again. I don't care. I don't care about my future. I don't care about my bills. I don't care about my credit. I really don't. After the last year and a half, all I care about is me and what I want. As soon as I figure that out, I'll let you all know because I realize how very interested you all are in my retarded life adventures.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 3:43 PM
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Thursday, October 13, 2005

This is a true story.

When I was a senior in high school, football was king. Our school was in the CIA. No, CIF. Whatever the hell that is. I went to some of the games when I was dating one of the players. He was really weird. So was I in my own way. It didn't last. Things that happen in high school probably never should. After the games, everyone would rush back to school so the players could go into the Senior Square and ring the varsity bell that hung from this oak tree that was supposed to be like hundreds of years old. Afterward everyone would run around the school ripping down the banners and posters and then they'd run to the gym to party. They'd play music in the gym and dance and eat pizza for about an hour and then everyone would leave to go get drunk and stoned and date raped in someone's garage.

One of those times in the gym a bunch of other punks and me were in the bird's nest, which is what they called the office that was above the bleachers where they controlled the scoreboard and all that stuff. We were up there playing our music and waiting for all the other jocks and jerkoffs to come in. Our evil plan was to lock the bird's nest and force them to listen to Black Flag, The Circle Jerks, and TSOL. We hardly got through Damaged before they broke the door down and beat the living shit out of the Halloran brothers. I never got my vinyl back. Bastards. KB was there. It was pretty fun. Thanks be to Jeezus the jocks only beat up their girlfriends and still pretended they didn't hit girls. We all got suspended for a day and the champions got to call us losers and break our records. What a bunch of motherfuckers. Where are they all now?
I woke up from a dream about that night. I don't know why I would be thinking of it now. What does any of it matter?

Here's the second part of that story. One of those nights, instead of everyone running back to the school, everyone was supposed to meet at this pizza place because they were in the playoffs or some bullshit and the two teams were supposed to party it up at Shakey's. Very, very big deal folks. Except their cheerleaders never showed up. They'd been hit by a drunk driver and wiped out. I always suspected that song Die Cheerleader was abou that night, but why would anyone be singing about us? No one I knew mattered for shit. So that was the end of it. When that drunk driver took out all those girls at once he killed high school for a lot of people.

I remember that when my friends and I found out what happened we laughed. We jumped up and down and laughed our heads off. It was so absurdly funny. It was like something from Penelope Spheeris. Then it seemed surreal. The funerals were totally like the absolute invite. Some of my friends wanted to crash the funerals, but in the end we couldn't be bothered. Much later it struck me as insanely tragic. I felt so bad for the families and for the principal and everyone involved. Now it seems funny again. It was absurdly funny. A carload of cheerleaders get taken out on the way to the aftergame pizza celebration. That's funny. Except that it's true.

How weird that I was thinking about all that this morning.

I'm getting a job next week. I'm not letting anyone stop me from getting what I want. I want money and fun and a little bit of security. To semi-quote somone "When life gives you lemons, say 'Thanks. What else you got?"

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 3:02 PM
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Wednesday, October 05, 2005

So I quit my job on Monday. I know. Now I'm a broke-ass punk again. What's new? My former boss is a psycho. I just can't work for a psycho anymore. I'll go to a temp agency until I get the notary going full on. I don't give a shit anymore. I'm just not working for anymore psychos.

It was my birthday on Monday. I'm not big on birthdays. As long as I can remember I've always had the crappiest day on my birthday. So now I just downplay the whole thing. I try to not have any expectations, and that way if anything great happens it's like a fun surprise and not another birthday suckage event. So I didn't tell anyone at the office that it's my birthday. The assistant JB overheard me on the phone with my friend La Bella B and he was all "It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell us it's your birthday?" I just explained to him that it's not a big deal for me, I don't like people to make a fuss, no I'm not a Jehovah's Witness, etc.

So then Boss Lady calls. She's one of the really brusque New Yorkers who talk fast, have a really thick accent, and a thick head to match. I think she's a fake. She acts like she's the hottest shit to ever hit the street, but now that I've been on the inside I know that she's really just a little above average. She's a hard worker, but she's so fucking out of control it's unbelievable. When I first started there I was so happy because I thought I would be getting some steady hours and be selling. I would have a steady stream of leads without having to do lead generation, and I would be getting some training from a power agent. So wrong.

It was great at first, but then she found fault with everything I did and said. She as nitpicking on everything. The biggest thing was that she decided I was too loud. What? Yeah, I know. So she was constantly shushing me. Then she didn't want my phone to ring. Because it was "disturbing" and made her lose her concentration. Hmm. A phone ringing in a real estate office. Yup, that's disturbing all right. So I had to put my cell on silent ring and put my desk phone on DND and then just pick up messages. Even though I'm an agent and the phone is my lifeline. Are you starting to sense that Boss Lady is a control freak and stupid to boot? How very, very observant of you.

She would ask me questions. Well, demand answers really, and when I would start to answer her she would either interrupt me after a few words, or tell me I was rambling after a sentence or two, or she puts her hand up and shushes me. She thought it was funny to introduce me to people as Chatty Cathy, her little doll. Which is another thing that was totally bugging me. She kept trying to make into some bizarre hybrid of herself and some imaginary buyer's agent par excelance. She kept asking me about my wardrobe. I have a business wardrobe. It consists of 5 black business skirts, 2 chocolate brown dress skirts, a gray business skirt, 3 pairs of gray business slacks, a gray jacket, four black jackets, a brown jacket, various tops, shoes, and bags.
Everyone else in the office were constantly complimenting me on my outfits, but not Boss Lady. Even though I was usually dressed better, she was very insistent that if I didn't have "appropriate" clothes to wear for the clients, that she would bring in some of her own for me to have. What the fuck? She talked about this 5 or 6 times. Has anyone ever heard of anything so fucking bizarre? We're not even the same size. Plus, she's a smoker. It's just so weird.

So besides all the jibs, jabs, and jibes, Boss Lady went way too fucking far on one particular subject. First of all, she kept demanding answers to questions that were so none of her fucking business. You know the kind of questions like: Why aren't you married?; Why don't you have any kids?; Why don't you have a degree?; Why don't you own property? Well, you know what? Boss Lady has never been married. Boss Lady doesn't have any kids. Boss Lady never even tried going to college. Boss Lady doesn't own property. Yeah, figure that one out. She's supposed to be this moving, shaking, power agent and she doesn't even own any property. She doesn't even have any investments. She decided she wanted my friend MP to come work at our office. Because it makes her money if he joins. So she was constantly harping on me to get him in the office. Except that I don't recruit my friends. My friends are my friends, not my prospects. So she was always talking about MP and then she decided that I was in love with him and wanted him to marry me so we could adopt a Chinese baby. Haha. It wasn't funny the first time she said it. So she said it every other day and started telling other people about it. She called us WIll and Grace and pretty much every chance she got she would mention that I was in love with my gay best friend and was pining for him to marry me. "Hang it up, you can't change a gay man". This would give her the giggles.

So back to yesterday. She called in and was talking fast like always. She was in total bitch mode. She was ranting about the water and the paper. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about the paper and the water. She has a little fridge that she likes to keep stocked with Diet Pepsi and water. For clients, right? Well in the beginning, when she was still being kind of nice, she told me to feel free and to take as much water as I wanted. Which I did. I drank about one a day. Then one day she had an all out freak about where all the water and the paper were going. I immediately stopped drinking any of the water and told her I would replace it. She yelled that she didn't want me to replace it, she just didn't want me to drink any of it. Fine. Since then she's bitched me out about it three more times. The paper thing I can't figure out. She puts another person in the office and doesn't think there's going to be any change in the paper usage? What a fucking moron.

So she calls in, freaking out about the water and the paper again. She demands to talk to JB. I told her he was in the bathroom. That pissed her off. She said "Go get him. Tell him I'm on the phone."Go get him? He's in the bathroom, you 'tard. Then she says that she needs him to meet her outside so he can help her bring in the water and the paper. I told her I would help her. Then she barks at me that she didn't ask for my help and that she wants JB to be outside when she gets there.

When they came in I was working on the computer. She came up behind me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then she's all Oh, Happy Birthday! Then she goes to her desk and proceeds to give me a three variety shit tirade about not telling anyone it's my birthday. After she decided to let me know who was really in charge of my birthday, she sat down at her desk and started firing off the cannons.

She basically yelled at JB and me, saying that she had worked too hard to build her business to let the two of us ruin it. She yelled at me that I was off the phones and that I was a buyer's agent and should have no contact whatsoever with her sellers. She just was yelling on and on about how JB was leaving and she needed to get a new assistant and that would mean she was paying two salaries while he trained the new person. She yelled at me like I was trying to shake her down, screaming that she couldn't support me. I don't know what that was all about. She kept adding hours to my time sheet, saying that I didn't clock enough hours. Then she wanted to just pull the rug out from under me. Whatever.

Then she starts yelling about all the clients who've ditched me, saying that it was because I was such a shitty communicator. She said that I had a huge problem communicating and that people could barely understand me. She went on and on about me rambling, never coming to the point, and that I was overly nice and friendly with my clients. She said I was too helpful and that I had to become hardball. Then she goes on to tell me that I have too many interests in life and that I need to stop reading so many books and spending time with my friends. She starts raving about how she works every night in the office until 10pm sometimes and that if I want to make it in the business, I have to give up my friends, and all my interests and eat, sleep, shit, and breathe real estate. So I could be just like her? No thanks. We were standing in line at Staples and two business guys were checking her out and one said to the other "How'd you like to come home to that every night?" The other guy put his finger to his head and pulled the trigger. I think men don't like her because she acts like she has a bigger dick than any of them.

So she was laying into me, basically ripping me apart and accusing me of ruining her business and taking advantage of her. She mentioned the clothes, again. She ranted about the water and the paper, again. She was on a loop. So I just got up and got my purse and walked out. When I got to the door she yelled at me to come back when I was in control of myself. I left and went home and took a shower. I took all my birthday calls but I wouldn't answer if it was her calling. She called and left a message barking at me that nothing that was said was meant to hurt my feelings and that I needed to call her immediately so we could finish this. Somehow it didn't inspre me to action. Then she left another barking message that in the professional business world people communicate with each other and that was something I needed to learn and that she "demanded" to hear from me within the hour. While I was out for dinner and drinks with La
Bella B, JB called. Plus two clients called me. I called JB back to let him know and also to tell him that I have three appointments this week that they'll have to do something about. He was all upset and I told him that I would be back in the morning to get all my stuff.

So I go in yesterday morning to pick up my stuff, and to drop off a case of water and two reams of paper. I left that on her desk and I started clearing my files from the computer. I packed up most of my stuff and then the office manager came in. She was all sympathetic and what's going on, let's go to my office and talk. I said no, thanks. Just here to get my stuff and go. Then she says I can't take anything unless Boss Lady is there. I told her I was just taking my personal stuff and was not interested in Boss Lady's files or anything like that. She starts pulling me out of the office and telling me that I have to go. So I left everythng there and went out ot my car. I was so frustrated. I called Jimmie's sister, the cop. I told her what was going on and she said "Fuck that bitch." She came right over and helped me carry Boss Lady's signs and flags. We walked in and Jimmie's sister asked for the office manager. She came out and was like what's going on? Jimmie's sister got right in her face and said "I'll tell you what's going on. She's here to get her personal belongings." Office manager started her spiel about not letting me in until Boss Lady is there and Jimmie's sister just ignored her and asked me if I had the key to the office. I gave it to her and she opened up the office and I started getting my stuff. Then Boss Lady walks in and starts going ballistic. She tried to throw us both out of the office, but Boss Lady is no match for Jimmie's sister. Jimmie's sister just put her hand up, just like Boss Lady loves to do to people, and says "I don't want to hear another word out of you. She getting her stuff and getting out of here and then that's the end of it." Then Office Manager and the owner of the office come running in freaking out. Jimmie's sister told them all to shut up and then we left. She started yelling again as we were leaving. She yelled that I was a drama queen and that it didn't have to come to this and that calling in the cops was totally unnecessary. I hope she got into it with the owner and the office manager. I hope I embarrassed the hell out of her.

I don't care about real estate anymore. I just want to have a steady paycheck and write my stories and work on my life. I don't want to be a mover and a shaker. I don't give a shit. I never wanted my face plastered all over town. I don't care about that stuff. I'm just a property nerd.

So there it is. The whole enchilada. I'm going to the temps tomorrow and I guess I'll hang my license at Palos Verdes with my friend, KMJ. Fuck it. I just don't care anymore.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 11:13 AM
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Monday, October 03, 2005

It's a Happy Cat Birthday to me. I don't want to have anymore birthdays. They make me feel old and like I'm a faiure. I went to ResFest last night. Mondo fun. We saw a tribut to Traktor. They're the crazy team who've brought the most deranged shit to the screen. Remember that crazy video for Where's Your Head? The one where the monkeys had human faces? Diesel commercials, MTV commercials, Heinekin, and the Jamaica Bay commercials where they're selling melons and the bus is late. They are so handsome, too. The whole team is like ScandoEuro fun boys. Except the women who are ScandoEuro beautiful.

JW had to run around like a hairdresser on fire the whole night. He had an art exhibit with a light pen where he let us stand in front of a black backdrop and point the pen at the stone wall across the patio. When you wiggle the light pen around it makes all kinds of designs on the wall. I don't know how it works, but it's hello cool. I tried to write my name but is was illegible. The guys were better at it. Probably from all that practice peeing.

Last night I met my doppleganger. Her name is A and she's my exact same age. She teaches autistic children and works with Professor Henry Moore who was my AbPsych professor. I know, isn't that a scream? All those misshaped heads. She writes and is a collage artist and has lived in England for a few years. She's lived all over the world. It's like she's the brave one and I'm scaredy cat. We were in England at exactly the same time and we figured out that we were staying in the same youth hostel days apart. Isn't that weird? She reads Tarot and is totally open. SN says she's crazy. He says that about me, too. It was very liberating meeting her.

I have to finish writing about Jesus and me. Then I'll write about the monster and me. Then I'll write about the scale and me. I don't know what I'll write after that.

Tonight I'm going to La Creperie with La Bella B. It should be fun, just us girls. I got Jackass Theory and 1000 Ways To Die for my birthday from Ben. I wonder how I can get them signed by Henry?

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 11:59 AM
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Sunday, October 02, 2005

I showed property all day yesterday and all day today and no one is writing offers. What the hell? I need escrows! I need at least three more before the end of the year. I'm a loser, baby. Why don't you kill me?

I have to do more notary work. I need money, man. I need a money man. I won't have enough cash for Rollins in Vegas if I don't get into escrow right stinking now.

I'm so tired. I'm supposed to go to ResFest tonight, but I'm pooped. I'll call around and see who's going. Isn't that funny how who's going determines how exhausted you are to go somewhere or not. I've been doing a lot of writing lately. It's not anything spectacular, it's just my fucked up experiences of when I was trying to be a Born Again Christian. Don't laugh. It was really hard. Anyway, it's taking a lot to write it all out.

Plus, I'm trying to collect info on any punks who used to squat at the Pacific. It's hard to get in touch with anyone real. Most of them are complete poseurs who would have been like nine years old when the Pacific was put to death. People are so fucking lame. I'm so fucking lame. I'm going home to take a nap.

another mad ramble of The Shadow * 3:07 PM
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