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The Leaving...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2021
I'm done, just hanging on for the summer vacation. But it's a crummy time to leave and so I've promised Franco that I'll come back after the "vacation" and do a couple more weeks while they train up someone new.
The owner, the boss, he doesn't know yet, and I don't know when will be a good time to tell him.
He's being extra nice and I'm worried that he suspects. He asks about my plans, what I'm doing, confides that it's what he works for all year, and it kills me because I like him, but it's not for me, not this schedule, in September I'm going to have theater tickets, seasons tickets, I'm going to have my son over for weekends, I'm going to go out of town, visit friends, take time off and travel, paint, write more, and I can do none of these things while I'm working here. He won't understand.
That time in September, the couple of weeks I'm coming back, that was premium time to get out my resumes, I have a plan, something different, and it has to be done before the weather turns, and it can't be done while I'm working there.
He's being extra nice, he's offered me his motorcycle, old but only a few thousand K, to get to work on, but I won't be coming to work here, don't want to have that debt on my head.
It's been rainy, hailing, the weather tells you to stay indoors, hardly the kind of weather that inspires one to look for work, but even if the snow is 3 feet on the ground I'll need to find another, more livable job.
He's not going to take it well.
Wednesday, July 14 - 2010
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2263
A supposed "Day off" but there's work to do, web projects, not mine but other peoples, and so the day is devoured.
Up at 7:00, news, by 8:00 am working away, it's mostly mindless editing, copy-pasting, but it's very mindlessness is what makes it so grueling.
9:00 break to go and get dry cleaning, 7/11 for breakfast (my dreams of my mortality are fast becoming prophecy), home, eat, some more work, nap.
Wake up, slow to wake, shave, bath, I'm multitasking.
I'm liking how I have the hang of this. While waiting for the bath to run I copy-paste some more, smoke some cigarettes, listen to some podcasts (CHINK - Master Lee & Stephen Fry - What I'd wish I'd known when I was 18), download music for the bosses nephew (a different posting), then have my bath.
After bath head off to the Uxbridge Postal Outlet - a parcel for me...a forgotten about ebay purchase.
My Milagros are here. It's a small box, heavily wrapped in duct tape, 2" X 2" by 4" long, but when I cut through all the cardboard and duct tape, sure enough, there are my Milagros. And easily 500 of them, all sorts, turnips, carrots, saints, hearts of every description, arms, legs, more saints, livestock, it goes on and on. My shrine will be the best shrine in all the world, when I complete it, which is a bit up in the air at the moment with the impending move and all. I have to get to the hardware store and buy some plywood and make a more portable shrine that I can take with me on these many moves....
I get some groceries while I'm there - mouthwash, toothpaste, hair wax.
Then home via 7/11 for an afternoon snack. It's now 3:30.
Probably I should nap again but the previous coffee following the previous nap woke me up.
So I hack away some more. I keep promising myself that I'll call a stop to it, just copy-paste a few more lines, but I want it done....
7:00, break for ice cream. Not at 7/11, Amato Gelato down the street. White Chocolate Rasberry and Espresso Flake.
Walk to Kensington, find a bottle of wine (Kensington wine store, where the cheapest bottles start at $20.00, not what I was looking for but I'm going to enjoy it..), home, back at website.
By 9:30 I'm done, ready for a break and another snack at 7/11, go for a walk along the river but the sun has set, there's nothing to see (it was a beautiful night, but I was too late), then back home. Catch up on other small errands, transcribe notes, burn music onto CD's, emails, drink the wine, and so passes the day.
Dreamed that I was dead
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1702
I dreamed that I was dead.
My father, grandmother, they were preparing a grave for me in the cellar. I went down to help them. She was there, they'd dug her up to show me, dead as well, she looked good, exactly as I remembered. My father, he showed me the watch she was wearing, my Rolex Oyster Royal Observatory, only hers had a glass back that showed the movement and I told him to keep it, we were dead after all. I was a bit confused, I didn't feel dead, maybe a bit dissociated, but my grandma, she took a knife and cut me open and showed me my internal organs, my viscera, and I didn't feel a thing and so I believed her.
I haven't been taking care of myself, smoking too much, not eating properly...my father, he's a bit disappointed. I'm pretty nonplussed for being dead, I kinda accept it, and help them to prepare my grave.
You only need one
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2705
You only need one.
Another late night, and when I leave the restaurant there's a lady at the bus stop down the street and so I go down and wait with her. There's something about someone waiting for a bus that reassures me that a bus will be along shortly, otherwise I'd run down to the express stop and double my chances.
I've asked, before, if they knew how long the bus would be, they didn't, they never do, they just happened across the bus stop and thought they'd wait.
We're only waiting a minute when the express bus comes by, it doesn't stop here, damn!
It only takes but one person, one idiot waiting, that's all it takes, and soon there will form a line.
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