Yes I’m the great pretender
Just laughin’ and gay like a clown
I seem to be what I’m not, you see
Many times during the course of my college career, I thought of dropping out. I dislike being modeled after some fictitious bullshit image of what I am supposed to be/look like/ in order to compete for a job that I may or may not get or have to work for 3 x harder than someone else because I am part of a particular minority demographic (That’s not a complaint, that’s just how it is for certain types of positions and jobs). I felt I would be happier as a janitor with my cruddy uniform and my little radio late at night mopping floors. (Ladies when it comes to polishing, I’ll put the shine on it)
[Btw - I've become really raunchy (and hopefully not creepy) on this blog, and you've all loved it - that why 'I luvv all-uh-yooze' said in a really brooklyn accent that sometimes comes out when I am with friends. ]
I graduated during the start of the recession and there were no jobs in my field. I had student loan debt and to support myself and my lady. We both did a lot of dead end jobs together, we cleaned houses, we walked dogs, I tutored spoiled rotten NYU and Columbia students. I took a year long unpaid internship to improve my molecular biology skills. I spoke to someone at the time about an MD/PhD program in Neuroscience as at that time I had done research for a few years, but 8 years more in school on a stipend of $26,000/year wasn’t appealing to me.
During this time by virtue of my past research efforts I got my Masters degree paid for in a subject I detested and still do, but in the face of homelessness and living with my insane fucking relatives, and a $20,000 price tag for to become a Chef at the French Culinary Institute in the city as it was then called. It was the best option.
You would think rich students with trust funds would actually pay, but they don’t, and it’s not like I can hunt them down beat them up and take what was owed. Twenty bucks can seem like not much, but if one is crafty that comes out to almost 1.5 to 2 meals a day for 2-3 days/ person during slim times. During this time to make my money stretch, I taught myself to make bread. I can make traditional baguette, Whole Wheat Italian Loaf, Oatmeal Molasses Rolls, Classic White bread Loaf, Naan Bread and a few others. My sister, my lady at the time, and I would live off this. I also used to make soups too as I wasnt allowed tomuch more use of that kitchen (imagine that bullshit). I had only a bowl, a wooden spoon and my bare hands.
At the time I lived in an attic with a window too small for an a/c, there was no heat in the winter. Luckily it was directly over the kitchen so my late night baking would guarantee a few hours of sleep without the biting cold. Unfortunately in the summer it was hell. It was 10-15 degrees hotter than outside and NYC has those humid heat wave ridden summers. Outside of my attic door I put up this quote from Dante’s Inferno
Per me si va ne la città dolente,
per me si va ne l’etterno dolore,
per me si va tra la perduta gente.
Giustizia mosse il mio alto fattore:
fecemi la divina podestate,
la somma sapienza e ‘l primo amore.
Dinanzi a me non fuor cose create
se non etterne, e io etterno duro.
Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’entrate
Through me you go to the grief wracked city; Through me you go to everlasting pain; Through me you go a pass among lost souls. Justice inspired my exalted Creator: I am a creature of the Holiest Power, of Wisdom in the Highest and of Primal Love. Nothing till I was made was made, only eternal beings. And I endure eternally. Abandon all hope — Ye Who Enter Here.
This was one of the happiest times in my life. Everything I ate came from my own two hands and my own labor. I saved up and Fridays when we had enough I bought beer, and assorted booze. We drank, I sang loudly off key, got up and danced for no reason, laughed louder, and I
fucked put it down with impunity, I didn’t care who heard, who I kept awake. (Maybe yelling out I’m a fucking Rock Star was excessive but I was in the moment) My relatives are a bit prudish and for the sake of decency never said anything. Which is funny, when you think about it.
Of course that time passed and I got a real job which I quit after 3 months because myself and my boos didnt get along. I have no problem taking direction from a woman on top, but this lady was condescending and a total fucking bitch. Then got another for a year and half with an effeminate passive agressive guy who everyone hated. He had beef with the management and would use me as a pawn and shield and a whole complex shit. I was literally sick every day working there. I worked for such a bunch of
cocksuckers incompetent people.
I’ve been at my current job for a good 4 years now. I have lost the ability to even feign interest/care/concern in what I am doing. I work in a small office with no windows, no human contact, doing so called amazing cutting edge things with science, that everyone applauds. But this is meaningless to me, despite the fact that I am good at it and after some research criminally underpaid. I couldn’t really give a shit and I don’t. So I pretend to myself sometimes that I can see myself doing this but, that just some clown shit. [Luckily I have an opportunity If I capitalize on the right way I can do some big things.] But so far in my life the highs have been extremely very high and the lows extremely low, but to me that’s life. I wake up happy everyday and sing and hurl obscenities, and dove head first into the thick of it, esp if there is a lady in my bed
What Matters is how well you walk through the Fire
during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
I always had this certain
I wouldn’t call it
it was more of an inner
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
and when relationships
wars and the
the backalley fights
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the