Archive | April, 2013

You can Derelict my balls, Capi-tan.

Tonight. All is right with the world.

I’ve had happy champagne, ironically with the scourge of my current existence – my coworkers: Sidewinder, Mufasa and Obama.

Sidewinder you know, albeit in passing. Mufasa is the female Lion King to my fastly diminishing kingdom, Obama the beatific bite-sized politician who makes up the set. These are people who daily contribute to my crusty choleric and yet today, I enjoyed their company.

Contributing factors:
  • Champagne. (A cherubic chunk of it.)
  • The likelihood I’ll resign within the fortnight. (Yeah buddy.)
  • The fact I’m on leave next week, working on a film as a Production Assistant! (Unpaid, in case you think I’m a Disney character.)
  • Yep. That about covers it.

Ain’t it funny how people suddenly become warm, caring fuckers the minute you’ve got your exits covered? Or chimera caring, as the day may be. Get a load of this corker …

At 12pm I was told in passing (as one might impart what they ate for breakfast) that I had to move out of my current work desk by 5pm today. Here’s the kicker: they don’t have a new desk for me to move to. Yeah, you read right. I’m being made homeless. In my motherfucken workplace, yo. Not fired, just homeless.

Not only that, they’d known for weeks and hadn’t said a word.

Sidewinder tells me (conversationally over lunch) of the clandestine meeting which took place the moment I left the room this morning – whereby Mufasa suggests they don’t tell me at all. They should simply wait until I leave today and pack up my desk while I’m on leave (presumably to move me to the basement, sans stapler, like moribund Milton of Office Space lore). They actually convened over that shit.

Questions:
  1. Who are these people?
  2. What in the Sheryl Crow?
  3. Is this any way to do business?

And so on, and so forth.

Sidewinder tells me this as I picked out my pumpkin risotto (aka orange opium), then acts askance when I react in the negative. (Insert expletives here, Aussie style.)

Whatevs, yo. Twenty minutes before, as excellent timing is want to do, my old boss rang to tee up beers and confirm my references were checked for the job I interviewed for yesterday. A job within film – as vast and diluted as that industry may be. Not one in the most ideal direction and not where I design to end up, BUT! In FILM baby! I’m their first choice and he’s gonna reference the shit outta that puppy.

BOOYAR. Sock it to you.

So. As my mangled day came to a close, there I sat. Alcoholling with Mufasa, Obama and Sidewinder. Rather enjoying myself, as perversion would have it. Quick-firing quips which neither their political correctness nor intellect allowed them to catch; throwing caution to the westerly winds which phase my hairdo not.

The irony (in an Octomum family of ironies) is that Sidewinder has fought so hard for their good opinion, only to be shunted to the shady corners of the high-school yard; where I warmed those parasites to me as quickly as I emotionally exited, stage left. I foresaw a month of false farewells in my future before I faded into their obscurity, and they became faceless portraits in the Edvard Munch’s scream of my past.

How many times I’ve done this I care not to recall, but I knew the musical steps as surely as Mozart’s prodigy. The beauty of laying it all on the emotional and pipe-dream line was, I very much planned never to do it again.

Move it or lose it, Toots.

Fuckadoodledoo.

My landlord just gave me notice.

I gotta move outta my beloved abode afore the next solstice. Four years in, I could feel this day approaching – fast and furious like the errant arse of Vin Diesel. Yessireebobtail I’ve dreaded it. Now it’s nigh and, well. I’m gutted. Just quietly.

My life is imploding with songlike synchronicity. Either that or a Phoenix cannot burn in part, if it’s to be reborn in full.

Let’s go with the latter, eh. Optimism is sanity for me right now. And whilst this is indeed spurious news (of bastard origins), I can’t help but call its timing predictably prescient. For this flat is the only true anchor I own to my soon-to-be-former life; the only habit urging me to make money enough to support it.

A man’s home is his castle, and a wuc’s abode is her equalizer. In years past, I’ve amassed art from Vietnam ‘n’ Cambodia, riches from Morocco ‘n’ Peru, and treasures from Europe’s teeming troves. Layer upon layer of connoisseur ‘n’ quirk until my home became a Wuccan cave of wonderment – a place where I could look in any direction and be visually sated. It’s the first real home I’ve had in adulthood. The first place I planted feet after years of travel and fucked up flatshares. And, like one’s first love, I have held it apart from all that went before it in delight and revelry.

Not to wax lyrical, yo. But you could say its been a dear friend, supportive and steady throughout many a harem of hardship. (A friend I paid $360 bucks a week for the privilege, but still.) As my sole sanctuary from copious compromises laden in my latent life – it has kept my candle of hope alive against wayward winds and usurping upswells. And somehow, throughout, I have managed to afford this choice champion. Just.

Slowly but surely, like the breasts of Jessica Simpson, the rent has risen biannually. And I have held on for dear life, like the boulder holder whose cups cannot stay the mounting mammilla. I lived in fear of the next inevitable increase (as I’m sure does JS) but turns out, there’s more than one way to snap the strap of the most bold of boulder holders, my friends.

Nothing for it but to suck it up and ride the realistic wave.

And so my endeavor becomes double decker: to find a new home and career within the month whilst staying the stink of inner ‘n’ outer beasts (and how many there are). Feels much like learning to walk whilst planning a Himalayan hike – ill timed yet undoubtably possible (in an after-school special kinda way).

In the kindtime, I’m (re)discovering that tackling Sydney’s housing market is akin to tackling my caustically Christian grandmo’ at the height of her regime.

The meek need not apply.

Nor need logic, for that matter.


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