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My heart hurts so much right now. I couldn’t have a worse stretch of days if I purposefully went out of my way to feel bad. As I left the Apple store, someone asked me where Spring Street was. My mind stopped and I burst into tears. Yes, welcome to New York. We are crazy. Or maybe I’m just speaking for myself. I have no friends in this city. I scroll through my phone list, and I can’t find anyone I can call to just let out all my troubles and this sadness. And as I walked through a crowded SoHo street on a Friday evening, moving at a sluggish pace because the crowd is so insanely dense, and then juxtaposed that mass to the number of friends I have left, I wanted to lay in the street and let the cold take my breath away. Work’s not going well. I’m unhappy, and although it’s going to change in a month, I dread every minute of work. This is a feeling I’ve never had before. I worry a lot about my mom. She’s always so stressed and sad when I call. I just want to go home and cry for hours and have her hold me. I worry about my sister, who I haven’t talked to in a year. I left her an IM for her birthday to tell her I love her. Isn’t that sad? Sad that pride prevents two people from making the first move when the blow-up isn’t over anything at all? Two people who have went through hell and back together. Three or four times over. (i love you so much and I don’t know how to fix it) I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of isolation. I don’t know how to escape this hell that is my life today. It really hurts. It really does. My eyes burn. I can’t even really say anything else. I’m so alone. And so empty. And it hurts so bad. filed under: misc | comments: 14 comments |
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First off, bestgayblogs is running a year-end contest, and i’m up for Best New Blog. Please, please, please help me out by clicking here and choosing my site (Scott Anthony) in the last category. I could really use the exposure, and it would only take you five seconds. Not that I want as many readers as possible, and not that that’s what a blog is about–oh wait, I do. And it is. –
I was at the club a few weeks ago, hanging out with my friends Alice and Joe at the door (I used to work there, and I’d much rather hang out with the employees than the patrons), and this guy kept hitting on me. It was that childish kinda flirting where it’s a little endearing, but mostly annoying. I was pretty sure he was drunk and he kept going “Take your clothes off!” and “God, your hair is so nice!” (Yeah, I never get that one.) He also kept awkwardly grabbing my elbow, which is…I don’t know know what that is about, to be honest. I couldn’t figure out why he looked so familiar. He kinda seemed like that guy, the guy who isn’t all that attractive and tries to make up for it by being as outraegous as possible–half the New York scene, of course–and so the flirtation attempts seemed a little pathetic. Flipping through New York today, I skimmed over the Party Lines page, and who did I see? The guy, of course. It was Jay McCarroll, the winner of Project Runway’s first season. He’s slimmer and better looking than before, but it was undeniably him. And now that I think of the obnoxious behavior, it perfectly mirrors what I saw on TV. And the story I heard from one of my best friends who said she approached him and told him she loved his work, and he brushed her off with the most flippant attitude possible, not knowing that she was a DJ there and the owner’s best friend. How fitting that I would brush him off in return. – Speaking of getting hit on, Bushwick is a funny neighborhood when you look like I do, slightly androgynous and exotic. You attract all the down-low chulos, like the guy at the deli who made my sandwich and then leaned over and asked for my phone number. And the thug on the street who interrupted my first listen of Extraordinary Machine on my nano to ask my name and what I liked to do for fun while looking down at his crotch. I don’t think he meant to hear about the DeLillo book I was finishing. (Yeah, Fiona. “My peace and quiet got stolen from me,” indeed.) Let’s not even get started on the guy at the laundromat who came up to me yesterday near the subway and went “How come you never talk to me, papi? I’ve been wanting to talk to you for the past year. I always wait for you to come in.” Stalking is creepy. Stalking for a year in the laundromat? Just a little more creepy. Ay, ay, ay. Bushwick stays hots through the winter. Just don’t tell anybody. filed under: misc | comments: 4 comments |
Do you ever interact with someone, but you can’t pay attention to what they’re saying because you spend the whole time trying to remember where the hell you know them from?|
This is actually in retrospect, seeing as the strike is finally over. I finally ventured out into the world on the last day of the strike. I took a car service into Manhattan to open my store. The three-person minimum started at 5AM, so to be safe, I left my apartment at 4:15 or so. I worked from 5:15AM-1:45PM at my store, picked up a last-minute shift at another store from 2PM-7PM (I figured if I was going into the city, I might as well make up some hours I lost during the past two days), and then did a trek over the Williamsburg bridge and ino Bushwick. I got a little lost and went too far into Brooklyn. (Not to self: if you pass a street named “Malcolm X Blvd” ever again, you are too far into the ghetto.) I estimate the walk home, mess-ups and all, approached six miles. I don’t want to do that regularly, but I actually liked the walk. The view from the bridge is really pretty, the weather was really nice, and I needed the exercise. My store actually gave me money for the ride, but I thought “When else can I say I walked from Soho to Bushwick in the middle of winter?” My feet were killing me, but that’s life. I also didn’t have any trouble falling asleep, as I usually do. Maybe a little more walking around would help me out. –
If I had been mugged, I would have lost a $500 8-megapixel Canon Powershot S80 and nearly $200 worth of memory. Having this camera excites me to a degree that I can’t even start to explain. When I learn to use it and take pictures worthy of it, I’ll be even more excited. What does any narcissist do when he gets a new camera? Takes pictures of himself, naturally.
– By the way, I added some MP3s to the site. I’m going to try to bulk up my offerings some more; I have a lot of unused space. filed under: misc | comments: 5 comments |
During those six miles, I carried some new things I got from Amazon with me, and I couldn’t help but think the timing couldn’t be more inopportune.
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So, once again, I am sitting at home, enjoying my day off because of the strike. I’m going to get a car out to work to open tomorrow and Friday, though, so I won’t have to use all of my vacation hours. It’s kind of interesting to just sit back and watch the news and see it all unfold from inside the bubble of my apartment. I feel like I should walk over to the bridge and see the state of things, but I know that I probably won’t. It’s craziness that’s so near yet so far, and I think I’d rather be a detached observer.
[The commuters’] rage will only build as the public gets the full picture of how Toussaint rashly led the Transport Workers Union away from the bargaining table despite winning concession after concession from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority … … The MTA wanted a two-year contract, while the union wanted a three-year deal. The MTA made it three years. The union rejected raises of 3% a year. The MTA bumped yearly hikes to 3%, 4% and 3.5%, which compound to 11% over the life of the contract. The union asked for more money. The MTA added a 0.5% bonus. The union proposed Martin Luther King Day as a paid holiday, giving the workers 12 a year. The MTA agreed. The union accused the MTA of subjecting large numbers of employees to arbitrary punishments. The MTA proposed hiring an independent consultant to recommend disciplinary system reforms. The union balked at having new workers - and only new workers - contribute 1% of their salaries for health insurance. The MTA dropped the idea even though skyrocketing health costs are fueling a deficit projected at almost $1 billion. And there was progress even on the most difficult issue: pensions. Transit workers now contribute 2% of salary to pensions and can retire at half pay after 25 years on the job at age 55. The costs are bankrupting the MTA and driving up fares. That’s why the agency proposed requiring newly hired workers to stay on the job until age 62 and to kick in 3%. When the TWU adamantly opposed raising the retirement age, the MTA retreated to 55 and both sides began discussing whether new workers should contribute 3%, 5% or 6%, and for how long. But Toussaint abruptly ended the talks, and the strike was on. So irrational was his action that a third of Toussaint’s executive board voted against the walkout, and TWU International President Michael O’Brien is calling on the strikers “to report to work.” Interesting stuff. I do think Toussaint is being a little silly. The transit workers already get better treatment than the majority of city employees, and the MTA caved enough for him–and let’s face it, he’s the overwhelming power on the TWU’s side–to give deeper thought to the matter. – In other news, King Kong must make $250 million dollars in the US to break even. In it’s first weekend, it made $50 million ($66 million since it opened). Good luck with that one. [Businessweek] filed under: misc | comments: 1 comment |
I still don’t know if I think any one side is right. But I did read an interesting editorial in the Daily News today, which you can see in its entirety |
The Transport Workers’ Union (TWU) has gone on strike, rendering all subways and buses out of service. If you’re not in the city and don’t know what that means, it’s a BIG deal. Everything is crazy. A lot of stores–including mine–are shut down. People are stranded at home. I’m taking a little vacation today. Luckily, I can stand this for a while, considering I have 80 vacation hours I need to use–I just hit the limit. How’s that timing for you? Less fortunate are all of the people who don’t have the option of just staying home. They have to deal with all the restrictions–four people minimum in a car to enter parts of Manhattan, drastically increased taxi fares. I’ve just been watching the news all morning, and I feel fortunate I don’t have to go out and deal with anything today. It’s definitely a good couch potato day. I understand what the TWU is saying. Pensions, health care, wages–there are a lot of essential issues going on here. But do they really think they’re going to win this battle? The last strike was in 1980, and it was a failure, as far as I know. The members are losing two days pay for every day they strike. The MTA offered pensions at the age of 55 with the workers paying 6% of wages for the first 10 years, but the TWU rejected it because they wanted to pay 2% instead. I’m not in their shoes, but I don’t think 6% is an unreasonable amount. I know the TWU says they feel bad for the commuters and for all of New York City, the innocent bystanders to this awful situation. It’s almost Christmas and the temperatures are in the teens and 20s. The timing couldn’t be more inopportune for the general public. But I doubt this is going to be great for their PR image. Happy holidays, New York! PS — I better be able to get my new $500 digital camera and $200 worth of memory from UPS somehow. Or I will choose sides and irrationally ask for the heads’ of Toussaint and the TWU board. Damn, I shouldn’t have had Amazon ship them to my job. filed under: misc | comments: 2 comments |
New York City is pretty chaotic today.|
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