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Californication
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 619
....because a former co-worker recommended it to me, on multiple occasions, apparently I'm the "Duchovny" character - "Hank Moody".
Which I appreciate, but, god-damn I need to be getting it a lot more to compete with the title...
Anyways, enjoyed the first couple of episodes, now watching Episode 5 - and, where the anti-hero actually stops fucking for a minute to make an intelligent diatrebe, and maybe, for a bit and briefly, I'm enjoying it...
Dag...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 644
I once posted pictures of her here before, older, hippy woman. Now 80, fashionably dressed, took her for dinner a couple of times...
She's a regular.
And - today she's breathless, has something to tell me...
It's a long story, involving fallen trees, animosity with a married neighbor turned to secret crush, and - today - this very morning - the first time in over 20 years...
She got lucky.
And I have to laugh, she's over the moon, like a young woman again, and I'm talking about burning the scarlet "A" into her breast, and calling her the "Town Bike", and she's taking it in stride...
But really...80 years old.
There might be hope for me yet...
Volunteering 2
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 546
So it continues, because, not that I like it but I have some sort of civic obligation. And I like the people I'm working with.
It has quite literally destroyed my love of thrift shops - the donations - a never ending tide of used kitchen supplies - quality; rubbish, largely rubbish. Thrift shops are largely a dumping ground for unusable, unsaleable items. And no one - or - rarely anyone - washes their donations before bringing them in.
Everyone here is a hoarder...
I mean, who am I to talk? I know, I know. So - I'm not throwing shade, but to watch my paid partner unbox - laying aside items, he intends to price them, sell them, but he doesn't, they end up in one of several dozen boxes in the back he means to have appraised, to perhaps purchase or "up-cycle", it's hilarious, you watch his eyes and you can see the light of covetousness come on when something grabs his eye...
Another volunteer, they're all harridans, well-meaning daughters of the Church of ... asks my function - do I stage the furniture? Dress the shop?
I tell her - "Mine is more of a Cinderella role...".
My partner finds this funny.
These women, most of them volunteering to get first dibs on the best handbags, clothes, uncomfortably close to my age and so you have to be careful someone doesn't take it in their head to "set you up...".
I price shit, but I'm no authority, there's no telling, someone bought this shit once, they'll buy it again, I'm amazed, put it out and no sooner do you put it out then you walk past a shopping cart with the item in it. Why, I pluck items from the trash that my partner (the paid employee) has discarded to price and sell them - and he sees them come through the till with that de-ja-vu, there's no telling. I know quality, workmanship, what I like, but these are not indexes as to what sells.
4 hours grows long, no more a pleasure, a job, the cause, worthy, but - well, it's the necessary friction to move the wheels...
In misery there's comfort
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 660
Back at the restaurant, just reopened. And so familiar - and yet -
Not where I'm meant to be.
In misery there's comfort, the comfort of numbers, the joy of familiar faces disappeared over the winter, old customers, staff, of new faces - I'm 3 days a week, they've hired a new waitress. My age, maybe older, short, plump, career waitress, you can tell pretty quick she knows where her hands are and what's up. A perpetually stretched smile across a weather-beaten face, she's wintered in California, Arizona, someplace. And so you balance the familiar with the new, when it's slow - and it's always slow in April, but never fear the rush is coming up quick - I introduce her to...
Well, Ken of course. Who else. Start by telling her about the six pack of gerbils he picks up at the Superette every night, about how he's got the best supply of what's-it-called-that-date-rape drug GBH that's it and the time I was in the basement partying and I woke up with a PICKLE in my...
And so on and so forth
It's mindless, this, and I have to escape, time now to plan it, in the meantime the comfort of the other bad habits that accompany it, Vodka, Cigarettes, I'm never sure which one is going to kill me first.
Not this year.
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