The difference between something that can go wrong and something that can’t possibly go wrong is that when something that can’t possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at or repair.
Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless
It has been for the better part of a month since I’ve written anything serious, or in fact non serious, or in fact anything more than 3 sentences worth of cheap weak crap. I am completely unprepared to start writing again. But I have the urge, and it is strong.
I haven’t written anything in the random thoughts section of this site in a month, and that annoyed me. I missed the last few weeks of the election campaign, had no real chance to add my two cents, and that annoyed the hell out of me. I missed talking about the $600,000,000,000 in fresh bailout from the fed, and that annoyed me. I haven’t written a damn thing about music in two months, and haven’t play guitar regularly in over a month, and that annoyed the hell out of me. The Democrats lost control of the house, lost seats in the senate, including one of the best senators to grace the floor of the senate in my lifetime, Russ Feingold and…
…well, you know.
Anything that is in the world when you’re born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works. Anything that’s invented between when you’re fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it. Anything invented after you’re thirty-five is against the natural order of things.
Douglas Adams, The Salmon of Doubt
Viddy of the day: Slayer, Disciple. I reject, I despise.
But I tell you the biggest event for me over this time, this entire time has not been any of that. It has been personal news. In late October I found out that November 12th would be my last day at Sotheby’s as an art handler. It has been a rough ride. I have given everything to those people, left it on the floor of that place day after day, night after night gotten up at 4:20am so I could run before work, then travelled an hour forty five into Manhattan to work my ass off moving walls, hanging paintings, moving tons of equipment, running freight elevators, moving hundreds of millions of dollars worth of art. And what do I have to show for it?
Not a damn thing.
I’m still as broke as I was before I started. I have to go out and start up a fresh claim with unemployment. And I am not going to get as much money this time as I did last time, because there won’t be any Davis Polk money on there. Bills are going to come due, and I am unsure if I will be able to pay even the few that I have to, rent, phone/internet, power, gas, all that goody, goody bullshit.
I have started sending out resumes already. Gonna start calling 814 teamster sites to see if I can latch on to a union mover job somewhere. I want to work, I want to show some employer out there that I have the goods to do the job, I hope they’re out there, willing to hire me.
I can tell you this, I am ready to work, I am not ready at all to sit on my ass and collect dust and unemployment for any length of time. I want benefits. I want health insurance, I want dental insurance, I want to be able to afford new glasses, to not feel like I am going to break the bank just getting the most basic essentials for my wife and myself. I want the self-respect that comes from self-sufficiency, and dammit I want it now.
I want to go back to Sotheby’s and work again on Monday, they really have one helluva good crew there. Teamsters local 814 has a top notch crew there. But I can’t go back. Hiring freeze, Sotheby’s says. Believe it? Not really, but that doesn’t friggin matter. My belief makes no difference in the real world in relation to that particular subject. I’m done there, and it’s time to saddle up and start the search again. I need to get yet another job.
Wish me luck.
Go to sleep, America. I’m back to writing regular again, and frankly we have some serious things to discuss over the next few days, and I want you rested and ready when I talk to you.