Corporate America

And then my boss’ wife came to me in the kitchen and asked how I felt. I said great! And I left immediately. I was not in the mood to open my heart in there, not at this time anyway, not after the Friday I had last week. She came to me as if I was sick person, or a child: is everything OK? I hated it. I am stronger than that. I need pity or anything. Oh, this whole thing was again very painful.
Anyway, I think we can say that I have won again. They went onto the attack again, and I reversed it by blankly telling them: all right then, if you are not satisfied, if you think someone else can do better, I’ll go and hired that miracle worker if you can find him or her. And it destroyed their little game, they were not expecting that, and today they have decided to be much more reasonable. A bit late now, there’s a limit that I can suffer for their desire to exploit the market to death and make a fortune on our back in the process.
So now, for the time being, they finally leave me alone, to do my work. I’m not how long it will last. And I have to make a decision, to make it official that I am leaving. And I have contact my financial people first, to make sure I don’t make a mistake there. If they don’t agree that I can leave that job, they must have a clause somewhere stating that I need to pay double every month or something, even if at that time I would have no job. They could force me to go in a real bankruptcy, and perhaps this is what I should have gone into in the first place, instead of this stupid voluntary agreement where in the end I will pay them 75% of all my debts. What a great savior that was. The only advantage is that I no longer just pay the interest, and I no longer have to pay $2,700 a month just to repay the interest. Now I barely pay $1,000 a month. Wonderful.
28 April 2006
I am the worst boyfriend you could ever get. I barely got paid, for the very last time perhaps, after I tell them on Monday that I am leaving in three weeks, and what do I do? On the stupidest pretext of finding a DVD by Nik Kershaw, in the Tower Records in my court yard, I went and spent $150 on just about every crap find. Like if this was the end of the world, and I was buying what I would need for while I would be buried down deep for years (my return to the UK).
So, spending two hours in there, before they close at midnight, I realized why I wanted to go back to England. Every single DVD I looked at, music wise, was all about the UK. From the first one to the last one. So the connection goes well beyond just the damn place that I can’t do without, it is the music, it is the bands, it’s everything! And that was before I even got into the 90’s, Indie music, Oasis, Blur, Pulp, Stone Roses, the list is very long indeed. For me that was the club Popstarz in London, Popstatic in Manchester.
And I bought tonight the one film about it all, called Live Forever, The Rise and Fall of Brit Pop. And I only understood tonight that the damn thing has been by the guy I worked with on that Einstein documentary, my biggest ever success, even though they found a way to not credit me for it. Astonishing, that even in the UK they could act like that, when I was so central to it all.
I just can’t believe they link this film so much with politics, who cares who’s in power when great music makes history? Do you think, really, that Oasis was thinking about politics when they wrote their songs? Blur? Pff! And what’s that bullocks about Nirvana having had such an influence on the British? No way, I couldn’t care less about Nirvana or Pearl Jam, never heard it while I was in England. Is Nine Inch Nails British, oh please, tell me it is. Oh shit, they’re from Cleveland. Oh well, here goes the odd one that I liked to death, that was not from the UK. I bought their last album tonight, with Teeth. And I could not just buy the simple album for $10, I had to go for the special limited edition with an extra DVD in it. So it cost me $25.
What else have I bought? The new album of Morrisey, plus a DVD about Morrissey, the unauthorized whatever (I might finally hear him say he’s gay, and unlike Michael Jackson, the man has some sort of sexuality, as his songs suggests).
I bought a special edition of the magazine Mojo, filles with the UK band I loved over the years, I thought it might convince me to go back, even though I know very well that I have never ever read any magazine I ever bought.
Bought a DVD of all Duran Duran videos, I thought I had to, after all those years with just the CDs. And one more American thing, but I can be forgiven for this one. Type O Negative DVD, Symphony for the Devil. Only DVD I ever saw about that band, I did not care if it was live (I usually hate live things). I thought they were from Norway, all those years that I loved that band. They had that stupid Norway flag on their album, it never occurred to me they could be from New York. So for me, that band is not American, so I don’t feel guilt for buying it.
Oh dear, on my last in Los Angeles, when every penny is going to count, how could I just get out and spend $150 on some British crap I could have bought in London for almost nothing. I wish I could say I would compensate somehow by not spending on anything else, like in Salt Lake City next week at that conference. But please, how much money could I actually spend in Utah? Even if I were a millionaire? The Mormon state. I was certainly not going to by a Bible in the first place, was I? I’ll be lucky to even spend money on the transport system to get to see the town on my first Saturday off there.
I’m still watching that film, intelligently made, I think the guy made that after I worked with him, and yet, none of that transpired all the time I spent at his place working on that documentary. If only he had known, how deep I was into Brit Indie music (not Brit Pop), than I was into Einstein. Well, I was actually quite deep in both, if that is at all possible. Otherwise I would never had been able to get that gig, of working on the biggest Einstein documentary in years. Ridiculous when I think of it, cos I was certainly the last person with any experience or credentials, and yet, I was there and developed it all. No wonder in the end they thought they should mention my name. Still got the contract, if people want to see it, it is the only proof I have that I was there, making history.
Making history. Such a nice concept. When it comes to Indie music, the only way I made history was by being in London when it all happened, going to clubs every week listening to that music until death do us apart. Nothing to be proud of really.
I can still hope to make history with my books, if somehow one day the whole planet stops in its track to read them and affirm that this great. I don’t really believe that either.
One last chance, perhaps my anarchist black poetry will be turned into the music of a generation. And Leonardo could do that for me, even if he is from Maryland, and lived in California for most of his life. He is still from a British father, and certainly look it, and certainly wish to recognize himself in England. Right, we’ll turn him into a British, and somehow we’ll rewrite the punk years, when his last record sounds like Barry Manilow. Oh dear, Celine Dion in between, it’s never going to happen, is it? I’ll be lucky if our film script gets sold. Even luckier if it get produced, with the budget required for that thing out of this world. Another way perhaps to make history.
Is it possible to walk on the frontier between what could make history, and what could actually never see the light of day? The life of Leonardo has been a series of great missed opportunities. If you were to hear here all the films he could have been into and at the last minute they went for another actor, you would not believe you don’t know the guy I’m talking about here. Is he condemned, like I am, to never go anywhere, despite all his talents and genius? Is this not depressing?
Still watching the film. The politic bit is over, they all admitted how they were stupid to get mixed into it in the first place. Even I would have known that. And now, they’re talking about how they were all off their head on coke, and heroine. Another big boat I’ve missed, can’t say I’m sorry, when I hard them all say how stupid that was, as well. For god’s sake! Was there anything about any of it that was actually not stupid and worth living for? I guess the big question is, would they have come up with such great albums if they had not been off their head?
I’m not completely honest myself, I admit that I wrote my best lines when I was off my head, no more than Porto though, red wine and beers. And yet, I can clearly see the difference. I won’t come out at any time in the future to say I regret it bitterly, without alcohol, I would have never written any poetry. And somehow, for some weird reason I can’t explain, I’m still convinced that this poetry is what I will be known for one day. Poetry does not sell, but if it were to be turned into music, my god, it could make millions.
If I had written that on heroine, I would proud to say so, and say that I don’t regret it. Which makes me wonder, how much better it would have been if I had been on heroine when I wrote that. And the worst part is that while I was writing all that, in the last ten years, my boyfriend was on heroine on a daily basis. And yet, god knows what his own little internal universe was like, none of it came out as art, none of it came out at all, just a big waste.
Which reminds me, how long this book is. The longest I have written in so short a time. I don’t dare read it again, just in case I find it boring to death. Perhaps if I slash it in two, one half might be readable, who knows. That’s the advantage of having too many pages. Only once before did I slash anything for any of my books, turn into 300 pages what was 1000. And it has been my biggest success to date. None of it was written whilst I was drunk. Amazing… Maybe there’s hope for me yet.
30 April 2006
I did not want to write here tonight, of all night, another Sunday before going to work. First I did not want to simply repeat myself over and over again, I understand now that this book will need serious editing to be bearable to anyone who would want to read it, and secondly I don’t feel panicked like all other previous Sundays.
I cannot explain it, why tonight I am completely normal, don’t feel the need to isolate myself in the close environment of the bathroom, looking for some illusion of a security. Not once have I felt the panic or despair I thought I would again reach.
Is it because I took that last Thursday off, and hence I feel that I had enough time off to get back on my feet? Is it because I told my financial people that I was leaving in 30 days and the apartment people also? Is it that I now liberated?
No. Because despite having told them that, I can still leave in two months time. And after talking with Stephen, this is most likely what will happen. It is just not realistic to go back to London now, while both of us would not be working and incapable to survive.
So what’s up? I still have Master Bitch coming back tomorrow morning from DC, she will still want a 45 minutes every morning as she stated, to make sure that the child that I am only works on what needs to be done urgently, watched and spied upon every second. Why is it that suddenly I don’t care?
Perhaps it is the end of April. March-Aprils have always been difficult months for me, and every time both these months were over, everything was perfect. But I don’t really believe that, I hope, and then, how could it have an impact on me tonight?
I thought it was perhaps that I was finally moving on with my conferences, that I did not feel guilty this weekend for not having worked on anything. Also that I kind of destroyed their little management game by saying that I was ready to leave at any moment. I feel that they won’t try their little games anytime soon, because as soon is it becomes unbearable, I’m out the door, and they know it.
I know it too, too well. I even know now that I don’t need to tell the apartment people that I leave in 30 days at the end of the month. I can tell them at any time, in 10 days if necessary, and 30 days later I’m gone, even before if I want to, never mind the money I would lose.
When I am back to some normality, like tonight, I cannot even comprehend what I went through. I don’t understand how I could have come so close to committing suicide over this. That I even developed some neurosis like depression and agoraphobia, all of which I did not experienced for quite a while, even if we’re only talking about 7 days here, and a relapse might be imminent.
That’s not the end of the bad news. I received an email today from my God. You’ve heard right. A theoretical physicist who’s just written the book I’ve been waiting for, for a very long time indeed. There’s no doubt in my mind the man is a bigger genius than Einstein and Newton. All to his credit. As nothing apart from my own website could have inspired him any of his ideas. And I realized that perhaps I did not inspire him at all, since he sort of destroyed just like that many of my own theories. I could still be right though, but I don’t think I got him to think about it, he is pretty convinced that most of what I am talking about is just a question of perception, the same error Einstein did, and he certainly did kill Einstein. And of course, I’m full of Einstein, that’s all I’ve been reading. So I need to go back to all my ideas and rewrite the whole thing in light of Mark McCutcheon’s book.
Not all is lost. I told him that I was in too deep to change the novel and film script I was working on, sci-fi wise, and I asked him if it would be acceptable if I were to mention him and his ideas. Now I just have to wait. I don’t mind if he says no, my own theories are ample for the story. And at the very least, if I am wrong and wasted all those years thinking out something he finally made come true, it would at least serve this extravagant novel we’re working on, I’m sure it will have quite an impact. And if it does, my God, there will no stopping me after that, it will be just the beginning.
Of course, wouldn’t it be nice to chuck the job, the 9 to 5, to concentrate full time on writing sci-fi stuff? Is it not why I am in Hollywood right now? Maybe it is a way for destiny to make sure I’ll be here a bit longer, so things can actually happen. Another two months surely out to do it? Though I am sometimes afraid that another two months in L.A., and I might never leave the damn place. I would then obviously be in a much better situation, and could perhaps start loving what I had already started to like about the place. Free me from conferences, and I might actually start enjoying this existence.
I’ve spent my weekend reading Arthur C. Clarke. Maybe that made me feel like I was somewhere else, still in the solar system of course, since most of his stories are really about us finally going to other planets and establishing colonies there. He makes it clear that we just reproduce there the same hell we have on Earth. Not sure if I would be happy to just continue this boring life, even in the colonies. I need much more than that, I need to get out of this solar system altogether. I don’t need to be dealing with anyone else from Earth, like in the films, the planet must be dead or on the verge off, by the time I escape.
I also got a boost this weekend for having finally put online the last book I wrote in French. Never mind that it is only on my forum, and not on the website, but who cares? It is out there, and my literary forum seems more popular than my website at the moment. I am even tempted now to do the same with my other last French book that no one has read yet. It is called, ironically enough, A French-Canadian in Hollywood. However it was written two years before I ended up in Los Angeles. It is my experience working with Hollywood on films and TV series, and that should be interesting. However the whole book will take me forever to correct before I can add day by day some chapters to the forum. This is why to put it online as I correct it is a great motivation, and I should not miss that chance. Now, if I could only find the courage to put online the four other books I wrote in English that are still not online, I would feel I have achieved something worth of opening a bottle of Champagne. I had to forget my other thought of putting online the four film scripts I wrote for that other production company, since the main one has now been turned into a television series that I can watch here every week. And they certainly, I think at least, since I never watched it, kept any of my ideas. Anyway, these ideas are all crap, since I had nothing to do with the general main lines, I would not want to put my name on any of it. I worked a year on this, I need to just forget it and learn my lesson.
My mom is pretty convinced I came to Los Angeles to waste my time. I don’t think so. One way or another, this has been quite an experience, one that I will not forget, that I’m sure will be filled with great memories when I leave, despite all the negative stuff. As this is how my memory works, I can only remember the great times, thank God!
It is the third time tonight that I thank God, must be because I can already feel that I am in Salt Lake City, I’ll be there next Saturday for at least five days, for a conference, my first one. Utah is the last place any of my colleagues would want to go. They jump at the chance to go to New York or Washington, not too sure why. For me Utah is the perfect place. It is the only place I really wanted to go in the whole of America. I even mentioned it many times in my previous book in French that I just put online, and then, I certainly didn’t know at the time that I was going to end up there. I need to see it for myself, I need to know that side of America. Not sure what will happen to me there, perhaps nothing, and yet, it means a lot to me. Can’t explain it. I might be there still in that company next month to go to Philadelphia for my second conference, but for some reason Philadelphia does not light any bulbs in my head. I feel like yawning when I think that I will have to go Northeast for that conference, after having been buried in the West for more than half a year. Who could be excited to be going to Philadelphia? Salt Lake City is much better, much more exotic, much more unreachable for me, the sheep lost amongst billions. If there is one gay club in town, I’ll make an exception and go. Somehow they won’t be these irradiated humanoids I imagine them to be. And perhaps they won’t be as plastic as what I witnessed in San Francisco. In California, gay people don’t touch the ground anymore. They all live in some other universe in which I simply cannot recognize myself. None of them heard of Depeche Mode for a start, so that is certainly a proof that we’re not from the same planet. And if they somehow heard of Depeche Mode, I’m sure they never heard about Nine Inch Nails or Type O Negative. They might even think Type O Negative is a new disease. Nothing in common. Not that I think the ones in Utah might know these bands, they might even be into something even worse, like country music. Then, there’s certainly no hope for any of them. They will all go straight to hell. And they will all damn deserve it.
3 May 2006
It took more than seven months before this office decided to organize some sort of night out where all our colleagues would go to a pub nearby to talk about work and destroy management. I could not believe it! In England, we have this kind of thing every fourth night! (Every fourteen days.) So I went, the Wankers Doodle pub around the corner, or is it called the Yankee Doodles? I can never remember. All I know is that it is the nearest pub to me, and by definition, if I were still in England, it would the place to go every night. It is a sports club, and they were shooting a film there the other day, so by definition, this is not the place I belong to.
But I wanted to go there, from the first day, and finally I did. The waitresses are all bitches, did not take long to alienate them. As predicted, even big tips did not make any difference, without it, I guess, they would have found a way to kick me out in no time.
Well, I spoke with the Valley Girl. I found out that she is not very high in the Chinese Girl esteem right now. Normal, the Chinese Girl is becoming Management. They had a huge fight this week, because the Chinese Girl this weel became the Manager of the Iraqi guy. Who was the only person the Valley Girl was actually managing. No wonder she went berserk. That friendship is over, no longer will the Valley Girl and the Chinese Girl ever talk against the bosses. Which is laughable really, since the Chinese Girl as always found a way to be pro-bosses, and the Valley Girl was blind to it, talking against them at every turn, not realizing she was destroying herself. So not the Valley Girl, having understood, is trying to destroy all management at every level, the why tonight we went to the Wankers Doodle.
She told me she had a meeting with the bosses, where they asked her if I intended to leave the company. They know so well that she is the center of all gossips, that they were certain I would have told her everything I felt like. I had not. And she told them that I had no intention to leave.
So tonight I told her what I wanted her to know, what I wanted her to report. That now, since they have calmed down, I was not thinking of leaving anymore. Tomorrow they will all feel safe. However she did say that I had to be careful, to not make accusations, because she said in the past, all the employees who did threaten to leave, they simply told them: good bye. To which I answered that I would not care very much, that it would be fine by me. I was not threatening, I was actually thinking of leaving the company. I asked her twice if they had any intention of sacking me, and twice she said no. She even said, they can’t sack me. Not sure what she meant, perhaps that they paid a lot of money to get me here in the first place. She thinks it would stop them. I don’t think so.
The Spanish Boy was there, many comments just confirmed he was more gay than I ever were. At the end of the night, I asked if anybody would drop me home, the Valley Girl instantly said that she would. I was hoping the Spanish Boy would, so in the end I had to say: well, if the Spanish Boy was to bring me home, I would have said yes, otherwise, I’ll just take my bicycle. They laughed really hard, I still don’t know the real consequences of that comment. They were fishing for it, hoping for something like that, so I gave it to them. I guess in the end it was a way to announce to him that we were going together to Salt Lake City together next week, and I had some expectations. So maybe it will play in his brain and something might actually happen next week, though I doubt it. Something would happen if he was not so stuck up, stuck with these people, as they know all his secrets. It is too dangerous a game for him at this time. Without those girls at work, he would let go, he would sleep with me. But now he won’t, his reputation is more important. So God knows what will happen in Utah next week. Let’s see who he is, really. I could at least find that out! I’ll get him drunk on Sunday, we don’t have to wake up until midday for that workshop, so hopefully, if I don’t sleep with him, I will at least get a confession that he is gay. That would be an achievement on its own.
When your mom lives around the corner, when your colleagues are your best friends since time immemorial, there’s just no way someone would come out to anyone. He is so stuck in there, he will not be able to admit to anything next week. I will have to convince him that I won’t say anything, that I am leaving for London anyway at the end of the month. It is after all what my bosses asked the Valley Girl: is he planning to leave? Yes I am, but none of them right now know about it, cos I have not even told the gossip person of the office. Because I am more clued up than any of them there, I know how dangerous she is. So I manipulate her to my advantage, while all the other just go to her to get destroyed in the end.