Part 7: Honesty is the best policy
Soundtrack: Toto / Hold the line
Lately the cost of living has been creeping up on me. A gentle reminder becoming a pounding on the door. The holiday is over, and it excites me, to be honest.
********
I took a job in the bar of the Tijuana. In reality it is because I have so many phone messages, solicitor's letters, angry glares, disappointed undercurrents in my life based around Financial Status Fucked that it was time to get some serious grime under my uncut fingernails. Shake out the cobwebs, build some fucking muscle.
But as an aside, I think it makes sense in a life experience way. I think a guy like me, needed to do this once in his life. Stand in the other side and see just how fucking ugly it looks. How ugly I must've looked. I think more than anything that has happened in the last few years of my life, this will teach me once and for all, that there is a time to know when you have had enough.
I saw it in their eyes last night, sweaty, glazed, tired and red...and yet, coming back for more. One more, two more, three pots full. Unfuckingbelievable. It was a mirror, it was a lesson.
********
I had a talk over chocolate and donuts. It was a tough topic but I listened to what was being said, and I thought...no, I felt...I felt wonder that I knew someone who chose complete honesty. Who opened up to me and discussed the hard hitting shit, and grew more beautiful for it. I saw wisdom and strength and I was floored. And of course, flawed.
********
It's funny how the simple act of getting dressed for a job can instill in you a sense of purpose. Not the job itself, not always, but the thought that you're up and ready and after today you will be 100, 200, 300 dollars closer to what it is you are dreaming of.
Me, it's New Year's in Paris. And an end to hiding from debt. Debt is a crippling disease, the "one shot too many" of the financial world. I have suffered from both for too long, and I feel good about tackling both those issues.
********
There was a woman who passed away recently. A writer. She published her first story at the age of 41. And that inspires me, it inspires me to keep collecting experience, to file EVERYTHING away to be used and abused at a later date. Because fuck me, I've got a lot of stories and a lot of experience...
but that's no reason to grow complacent. Life is fucking bigger than that.
********
At the end of my first shift I gathered the staff together. And I said, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaning over the bar and taking my top off and swinging it around in the air, for shouting rudely for service, for being obnoxious etc etc etc. I said, it's fucking hard work here, and it's hot and you get tired and the easier someone is to deal with the better when you're working like a mule. So, I want to make up for it. Karmic styles.
They laughed and said, but you're mattyb. We've never cared, we fucking love you.
Now go clean the ashtrays fucker.
********
la Nadine is in my lover's bed. In reality that is even sexier than it sounds, so I'm absconding for now to lie next to her and discuss plans to travel to Glastonbury or Laugh Out Loud A Palooza.
Or maybe we'll just make out.
Life is good, and it's only going to get better. And remember, be nice to bar staff.
The B.
x
Lately the cost of living has been creeping up on me. A gentle reminder becoming a pounding on the door. The holiday is over, and it excites me, to be honest.
********
I took a job in the bar of the Tijuana. In reality it is because I have so many phone messages, solicitor's letters, angry glares, disappointed undercurrents in my life based around Financial Status Fucked that it was time to get some serious grime under my uncut fingernails. Shake out the cobwebs, build some fucking muscle.
But as an aside, I think it makes sense in a life experience way. I think a guy like me, needed to do this once in his life. Stand in the other side and see just how fucking ugly it looks. How ugly I must've looked. I think more than anything that has happened in the last few years of my life, this will teach me once and for all, that there is a time to know when you have had enough.
I saw it in their eyes last night, sweaty, glazed, tired and red...and yet, coming back for more. One more, two more, three pots full. Unfuckingbelievable. It was a mirror, it was a lesson.
********
I had a talk over chocolate and donuts. It was a tough topic but I listened to what was being said, and I thought...no, I felt...I felt wonder that I knew someone who chose complete honesty. Who opened up to me and discussed the hard hitting shit, and grew more beautiful for it. I saw wisdom and strength and I was floored. And of course, flawed.
********
It's funny how the simple act of getting dressed for a job can instill in you a sense of purpose. Not the job itself, not always, but the thought that you're up and ready and after today you will be 100, 200, 300 dollars closer to what it is you are dreaming of.
Me, it's New Year's in Paris. And an end to hiding from debt. Debt is a crippling disease, the "one shot too many" of the financial world. I have suffered from both for too long, and I feel good about tackling both those issues.
********
There was a woman who passed away recently. A writer. She published her first story at the age of 41. And that inspires me, it inspires me to keep collecting experience, to file EVERYTHING away to be used and abused at a later date. Because fuck me, I've got a lot of stories and a lot of experience...
but that's no reason to grow complacent. Life is fucking bigger than that.
********
At the end of my first shift I gathered the staff together. And I said, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaning over the bar and taking my top off and swinging it around in the air, for shouting rudely for service, for being obnoxious etc etc etc. I said, it's fucking hard work here, and it's hot and you get tired and the easier someone is to deal with the better when you're working like a mule. So, I want to make up for it. Karmic styles.
They laughed and said, but you're mattyb. We've never cared, we fucking love you.
Now go clean the ashtrays fucker.
********
la Nadine is in my lover's bed. In reality that is even sexier than it sounds, so I'm absconding for now to lie next to her and discuss plans to travel to Glastonbury or Laugh Out Loud A Palooza.
Or maybe we'll just make out.
Life is good, and it's only going to get better. And remember, be nice to bar staff.
The B.
x
posted by Sherriff at 11:14 PM
2 Comments:
LOLAPALOOZA!!!
*goes back to bed*
debt wasn't in your last sentence. but i guess it wouldn't be. it's a bad thing, not a good thing. let me talk about debt:
i am amazed at how i have been able to sleep at night the last five years, knowing what i know about my credit bills. i have inched closer and closer to my large limit, and last month went over it for about the third time. this is the second time i have blown it out. i am stupid when it comes to money and stuff like that and getting real and working to earn money. i kid myself it's because i am so artistic and intellectual that i can't live in the real world and do what real people do, ie manage their daily lives. i can get food on the table, i can shop, i can be normal at the kids' school, i can maintain friendships and relationships, i can achieve academically and workwise, when i want to. when i want to is not now.
i have been treading water with my nose just above the line of what might sink me.
the mirror, the lesson. i am so with you there.
k
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