Friday, August 26, 2005
...on divine right of kingship
you know, the neighbors used to be so cool. two girls who worked in film and television. not from here. trying to make it happened. thing1 was nice and thing2 was not so nice. eventually they became socialble and we got along. we tried to take our demands to the landlord every now and again. we talked about shit. we were friendly. then thing2 wanted to date someone in our circle. it didn't work out so good. they became uncomfortable. like alot of people i know who work in that field, they play the govt. a guy i know in the set designers union would work 6 month out of the year and collect unemployment for the other six and then go to work on a movie. it's their system. the union gave him bennies and then when others in the union needed to work he would take his hit and live off the system. i assume others do it. thing1 does it but, now she's in the home business kind of business. the kind that has you in the house all of the time. i know how this works. you stay in for your 8 to 10, then you stay in and eat dinner. then you watch some tv or listen to music and then you go to bed. after a few weeks of being indoors for a long period of time puts the zap on your brain. it's the solitude. the only dealing with people by e-mail and phone. it makes you paranoid. it makes you nasty. you become a shut in. then one day you wake up and your act like the old lady in the corner house who has the 35 cats.
"GET THE HELL OUTTA MY YARD!. "YOUR BRAT IS MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE! I WORK FROM HOME YOU SEE, AND I CAN'T BEAR TO DO IT WHILE THERE ARE KIDS OUT ON THE ROOF HAVING A GOOD TIME!"
we comply. no more kid on the roof playing. it's cool. like all things that i don't like but have to do i get used to it. the bastard has made a life out of getting used to other people's shit. but a funny thing happens in the evening. usually on fridays. sometimes on other days. but always in the evening. the 85 year old bitty that needs total silence while she "works"(collects) at home turns back into a 30 something year old hipster. we call hipsters that old "cryptsters". too old to be hip but young enough to try and get away with it. i gave up trying to be hip a long time ago. it's a job being hip and a hard job. it's a young mans game, this hipness is. and i knew when to get out. you declare victory and then walk off of the battlefield and dress like michael cain in the italian job and convince yourself that you look good. anyway, she mystically transforms back into a 30 something and cranks that deep house music right the hell up. silence my ass. jerk.