The rain sweeps across the highway outside of my window. the trailing sounds of heavy wheels discharging the water, a phantom moan of disappearing strangers. Into the darkness they vanish. It's Christmas night, I have gorged. The addiction, compensating for what's no longer here. The emptiness, the shadow play in my mind. It can't be like this forever can it? My psyche tugging my body with marionette strings fueled by apathy.
I listen, the sounds of the rain drops pelting, the asphalt, the Doppler effect. If I commit myself enough. If I focus enough.
I will become transparent, I will become translucent, I will lift into the sky like the dampness does by morning time.
The final insult flung, she spat venom into my ear through electric currents. Flustered, frustrated, beyond repair. I, monotone, defiantly replied "Don't call me anymore." Thinking I was bluffing, a tiny cackle crept into her words "Okay." She smiled at the other end of the line, proud of not giving a shit. I ended the call on my cell shaking with a static fury. Two years later she calls again, and for the fifth time I pass on picking it up, on hearing her voice again. She is enveloped in the passage of time.
she called me an idiot. Ironically, I knew deep down, she was a moron. Vapid, empty, hollow shell of a deliciously sculptured goddess. We were made for each other like a bent key for a broken lock. I stared into her deep black eyes as she kept mouthing unintelligable words . . . my peace was diminished, I burst into flames.
WARNING: OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE AND TOUCHY SUBJECT MATTER.
Ask Will is a short interview series, where I ask an abundance of questions to a former co-worker Will. I find him endlessly funny, and unabashedly unfiltered. He will give his opinion, and not shy away from it.
EP 1: Pre-Obama election/current politics.
NOTE: All of the opinions heard and said in this video are given by said main subject. I am not here to objectify or slander anyone's beliefs, be they political or religious. That being said, this is a look at a young man's random thoughts about the world we live in today.
I neither condone or object to one's beliefs, and allow them to speak their mind. My opinions, unless asked will be of my own, and not part of this video series. I am merely interested in porviding the viewer with compelling footage, and a look into the thought process of individuals you may never have the chance to converse with.
It's something I just heard about, and it's absolutely shocking. It's 12:57 AM, July 6th, 2009, and I'm hyperventilating as I write this. Now, take a seat. (well do you stand at your computer, you hipster-non-comformist scum.) This is real heavy.
Michael Jackson has passed away. I know, I know. it's terrible.
Okay, now you can have a moment of reflection for the loss of our "King of Pop". I had to take a moment myself, whether to actually capitalize the letters in that moniker. I are no English major.
But seriously folks, what got me to write up this stunning announcement was the footage of Michael Jackson's ghost on "Larry King LIVE". Now I know you're thinking, the only ghost on that show is Larry himself, but people are actually claiming to see the gloved one's apparition loafing around in his Neverland ranch.
Here's the video. (accompanied with some copyrighted horror music)
Now, weirdos, ahem, I mean people are actually debating this as paranormal fact. As you can see, the shadow, er ah, Jacko slinks through some sort of hallway vanishes into thin air. Now, this leads me to the realization that people are more fucking nuts than ever.
Seriously.
Poor Jermaine, a chance to bask in the light after all these years of eating beans straight from the tin can, absolutely shunned by society. The public, more in favor of his talented, highly controversial brother. Now MJ is stealing his thunder once again! Holy Mackerel, you done good, Mikey.
Which leads me to the celeb frenzy that occurs when one reaches a status that few can. "Celebortality", because my penchant for phrasing is awful. One can be canonized no matter what they did or didn't do that leaves a stigma on them when they're alive, but vanishes once they're no longer on this earth . . . er spiritually. I'm sure 35% of his original body is there somewhere at the funeral.
No, I'm not trying to make light of the situation, but it's amazing how quick the tide has turned in favor of Jackson. I myself, who is somewhat an emotionless tool, was caught off guard when I actually felt a jolt of sentimentality hit me when I heard "The Way you make me feel" on the radio the day of his death. I received a call informing me he had died hours earlier, and I replied with the flippant "Bullshit." There it was though, Jacko gone.
A friend of mine commented that he thought Jackson had absolutely no talent at all, and didn't understand the big deal. While he is a fair many years shy of my age, I tried to explain Jacko's impact on the world without sounding like a maniacal fan. Alas, he complains that Jackson never wrote any music that dealt with healing the soul and the world like "Angels and Airwaves" and "Coldplay" do. I kind of figured from there, that, ah he's probably never listened to the music once. So I'll just let that go. Musical tastes aside of course. Busting your balls here, bro! What's the worst that can happen to him, a bunch of saucy fruits in lycra jackets tying their arms to his and having a dance off?!
Unfortunately for Jacko, his negative buzz stuck with him well after he was no longer relevant. The abnormal lifestyle, the cosmetic surgery, giving Marlon Brando a cameo in his "blood on the dance floor" video. It goes on and on. Although, now the public has been rushing to cash in on Michael's notoriety, and I don't blame people on wanting to make money. Holy shit though, now I'm seeing as much MJ paraphernalia as I do Obama shirts.
(That's an actual shirt. I kid you not. I facepalmed hard when i saw it on sale at Union Square Park.)
Infact, I know a girl who's selling I heart MJ shirts, it's quite a smart, simple design, and I'm sure when he comes back from hell to drag her down, he'll look snazzy in one too. In final remembrance of the quite talented Michael, I leave you with one of his more rare collaborations with a fine pop singer of the eighties, a Mr. Edward Murphy.
So, scouring the internet for work is not only a massive effort of
placing correct "keywords" in search engines and hoping for the best. The journey itself consisting of how many jobs out there necessarily don't adhere to what you studied four years in college for. While I do consider myself a Jack-off-all-trades (yes I do note the second 'f') I find it a complex nightmarish plunge into the unknown. When 90% of the time you get work based on who you know (and that's basically the template of my monetary gain for some reason) I hardly know anyone anymore because I do work so much.
Stuck as a corporate goon, not wanting to raise up in one's position because time will be lost and there will be no creative fulfillment is a hell i wouldn't want to wish on anyone. So where do we go from here? Daily visits to craigslist (and by daily I mean, by seconds of each day) to scour work, that would be feasible as compared to winning the lottery.
I scour the 'Arts and entertainment' as well as the 'writing' positions, but in all honesty both are scarce. The writing section you need to have a masters in language, even though, clearly they can see that you write well. It's not legitimate unless you have that BFA in that field.
So on I search, banging my head against my keyboard. Luckily enough, in times of desperation I've begun to learn editing skills on my new Imac, complete with Final cut pro. With that, I have to purchase a new digital camera, as well as new fire wires to complement the process of new found skills. So there's that to look forward to, but, the filming process is a looming beast that's also problematic.
The main motivation right now is a mix of two things, well, maybe three. Justification for my BFA from Fashion Institute, my artistic gratification, as well as my unabashed desire and love for money. I don't care, I like money, having money, spending it and smoking cheap cigars and acting obnoxious with my friends as we do it. So I ask the many gods of this world to set me on the right path so I can get back to the fiendishly reaganesque levels of debauchery.
and those are the low rung of finding work in this world.
But as I build my pesky portfolio, that I have the worst patience with. Books on Dreamweaver piled upon my desk, I question myself, what am I doing at this moment? Where have I gone wrong? I realize, I was writing this post instead of looking for new work.
