move, good will, plans, jewels, doc, zoila, music
22 May 2008
I am completely in over my head right now with this impending move and work, which has just simply been out of control lately ("simply" because what’s keeping me busy is an abundance of tasks which could probably be completed by a dolphin of moderate intelligence). While ideally I would have liked to have chronicled each of my last days in NYC, maybe from my couch, maybe while smoking some sort of pipe and gently rubbing my beard, giving proper thought to both what has been my seven glorious years in NYC and the events and insanity of the past few weeks, well, I just can’t – I just got too much shit to do. So instead you’re getting a list. Such is life.
************
If you’re ever feeling down or unappreciated, here’s what you do: tell all your friends you’re moving in a few week’s time. If you have friends that are worth a damn in the first place, they’ll band together, keep getting you drunk night after night, and make you wonder why you’re ever moving in the first place.
(But the female friends won’t sleep with you. No matter how much you beg and plead and say "It’ll be the perfect end to my NYC experience!" or "C’mon – there’s always been a little something between us!" or "Do you realize the only way I’m getting laid in LA is if pay for it? Help me out, why don’t you?")
I shit you not when I say I can’t recall as fun a time as I’ve had over the past few weeks (and this despite long hours and a very strong anti-job sentiment). I’ve gone out, I’d guess, 13 of the past 15 or so nights, both with friends that I’ve been hanging out with regularly for years and with people I haven’t hung out with in months. Everything is a haze and I think different parts of my body are either dead or dying, but what a tremendous stretch it’s been – getting home at 3am on a Tuesday; spending an hour in a friend’s office "resting" because of a tremendous hangover; randomly running into that motherfucker Iha on a Wednesday night at the Tile Bar at immediately calling my old roommate Brian in California, screaming into the phone "It’s been 15 years since ‘Cherub Rock’, Iha – might be time to get a real job. I hear the Parks Department is hiring"; hitting Rosario’s at every possible opportunity and unleashing such vengeance on their beef patties that if you didn’t know any better you’d think a gang of them murdered my family; etc. An incredible few weeks, really, which makes me realize how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends and such a voracious appetite for food, booze and sex.
(Why again am I leaving?)
************
My dad and uncle are coming up Thursday night to move me out. Friday, I leave NYC and head to Philly and on Saturday morning we’re on the road for our Mulgrew Men Conquer America trip. We’re stopping in Nashville, probably on Sunday night, and in Sun City, Arizona, sometime later in the week (the former to get drunk and the latter to visit relatives). I am nervous about this, but good nervous, like when you’re pretty sure you’re going to lose your virginity; anxious and looking forward to it just to get it out of the way, and excited to see what life will be like when it’s over. That’s really the best way I can describe it. Wish us luck.
************
If a man’s sex life is measured by the amount of left-behind women’s jewelry he finds in his apartment when he’s packing up to move, then I’m just below Wilt Chamberlain but slightly above Mick Jagger. Good lord. Here I am thinking that I haven’t really been getting laid, but the evidence in the form of these artifacts disproves this nearly universally held theory. It’s not quite the discovery of Tut’s tomb, but it’s pretty remarkable nonetheless. According to these findings, I have actually been getting laid or am keeping trinkets from my murder victims, many of whom have a penchant for hoop earrings and cheap brightly colored rings (apparently, I target only gypsies). With the earrings, rings and necklaces I’ve found in various places in my apartment, I could easily open a stand somewhere in Soho. But first, I feel like I should send an email out so these items could be claimed by their rightful owners:
Ladies and that Puerto Rican guy who dressed up as a sailor on Halloween in 2006,
I’m moving out of my apartment and have discovered a lot of jewelry that does not belong to me. If you think any of these items belong to you, please contact me. If you think I’m going to use this as leverage for us to make out again, you are absolutely correct.
Thinking of you,
Jason
PS – I am so lonely.
PPS – Seriously, if we could just talk, even for 15 minutes or so, it would really help me out.
Provided, most of the time when a girl spends the night with me at my place, she’s so anxious to get out of there the next morning before I wake up that she’s liable to leave behind her arm if it’s not attached, so losing an earring is a small price to pay for freedom from a captor who smells like cinnastix. And hey, it worked out for me – I got an ego boost and lots of free jewelry. Sweet.
************
As part of the process of moving, I called my doctor to get refills of my two prescriptions: Nexium and Xanax. The former I don’t use much anymore; since I lost the weight, my heartburn has all but ceased (still it’s a good prescription to have handy and honestly, I’ve probably gained 20 pounds in the past two months, gorging on some of NYC’s finest cuisines under the auspices of “I’ll never get [NYC food] again!”). The latter I still use, but mostly to sleep – I can’t comprehend how anyone can take Xanax and drink, since it just makes me sleepy and decreases significantly my ability to get an erection. However, in the middle of a stressful week, nothing beats a nice dinner, three good beers, a long fantasy shower, and a Xanax to take the edge off and send you gently off to sleep.
My previous prescription was for 100+ pills of .25 mg, a relatively small dosage. So I called the good ol’ doc for that and the Nexium to be re-upped and wouldn’t you know, the magnificent son of a bitch, God bless him, still prescribed 100+ pills but doubled the dosage to .5 mg. Looks like those morning drives in LA are going to be a bit foggy for Uncle Jason as the alprazolam wears off. I should probably start drinking coffee.
************
While we’re handing out blessings from God, a big one goes to my cleaning lady, Zoila. One of the most emotional moments I’ve had during the move came when I wrote her a thank you and goodbye letter, telling her I was moving and, well, thanking her for all her help. I cannot quantify the positive emotional and mental impact that she, in the form of her cleaning services, has had on my life. Every other Monday morning before going to work I’d look at my apartment, covered with empty beer cans, pizza crusts, full ash trays, and other remnants of the weekend, and feel terrible about myself and my station in life. Then I’d come home that evening from a hard day at the office (read: fantasy sports and personal phone calls) and find my place immaculately clean, immediately improving my mood, confidence and self-esteem. She was like my own like Mexican-type life coach, and I will miss her dearly.
(But seriously – if you live in NYC and need a cleaning lady, I can’t recommend her highly enough. Being a cleaning lady and cutting your teeth by cleaning my place is like being that 14 year old who f’ed his super-hot teacher – you’re pretty much considered an expert immediately and infinitely from that point forward.)
************
Six Songs (special Nine Songs edition)
A twist in this edition of Six Songs: thanks to a lovely site called muxtape, you can hear each of the Six Songs selections below in their entirety – along with a few other songs I added on there that I’ve been listening to lately, since you can have up to 12 songs on your mixtape. I love this site, but I’m sure it’s going to be sued into oblivion any moment (and sometimes it takes a while to load, so you have to be patient).
"Time To Pretend" Mgmt
If there’s an anthem for the past few weeks, it’s gotta be this song. Let’s have a listen to the first verse, shall we?
I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw, I’m in the prime of my life
Let’s make some music, make some money, find some models for wives
I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars
Um, where do I sign up – because that’s exactly what I pretend too. I’m not one to guarantee things often, but I guarantee that if you listen to this song at least once a day, every day for two weeks, your penis will get bigger and you will actually become bulletproof. Trust me. My favorite line is actually toward the end:
Our models will have children, we’ll get a divorce
We’ll find some more models, everything must run its course
I don’t know if my liking this line means I’m misogynistic and view women strictly as pretty things and vessels for procreation, or I like it because it rock and I rock. Probably a bit of both. I’m just saying – you want to be bulletproof, check the song out. That’s all.
"Two Headed Boy" Neutral Milk Hotel
Hands down (HD?) my single favorite song to play when in front of people messing around with an acoustic guitar and someone says, "Oh – play us something!" The pure amount of screaming and heavy strumming in this song is breathtaking; if properly and with enough vigor, I’m pretty sure you can get someone to punch you in the face to stop before you get to the two minute mark. Just tremendous.
"Alternative to Love" Brendan Benson
I’ve recommended this song before, but with the discovery of muxtape, I had to recommend it again. Simply: there is no way that anyone cannot not like this song. I mean, when that chorus kicks in ("Maybe I’m just damaged goods…"), some part of your body has to be moving (that is, if you have feeling in all parts of your body). I could listen to this song ten times in a row and be more than ok with that.
"Right Down the Line" Gerry Rafferty
This is the song that’s on when it’s 1977 and my girl and I are getting ready in our house in the Hollywood Hills to go out to meet some friends for drinks and cocaine at some hot new club at Hollywood and La Brea. Our life is wonderful.
"Outfit" Drive-By Truckers
Nice. Good song to listen to while moving.
"This Time Tomorrow" The Kinks
Also nice. Also a good song to listen to while moving.
"Fans" Kings of Leon
Y’all know I’m a sucker for anything about kings or queens (“A King and A Queen” by Okkervil River practically makes me weep every time I hear it), and this one’s got a doozy of a line: “Those rainy days, they ain’t so bad when you’re the king.”)
"Seems to Me" Joe Walsh and the James Gang
This is the musical equivalent of opening a can of PBR while not wearing a shirt. To hell with you, woman.
"I Thought I Saw Your Face Today" She and Him
You know, I made fun of this group – the hipster dream-team combo of M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel – both on here and so mercifully to my friends that it bordered on obsession. Then, I go and download a bunch of their songs and I’m so impressed by this one in particular that I am seriously willing to pay someone (a woman, hopefully) upwards of $200 to slow dance with me while it plays. So if you’re interested – or just hard up for cash – shoot me an email.
************
If you’re ever feeling down or unappreciated, here’s what you do: tell all your friends you’re moving in a few week’s time. If you have friends that are worth a damn in the first place, they’ll band together, keep getting you drunk night after night, and make you wonder why you’re ever moving in the first place.
(But the female friends won’t sleep with you. No matter how much you beg and plead and say "It’ll be the perfect end to my NYC experience!" or "C’mon – there’s always been a little something between us!" or "Do you realize the only way I’m getting laid in LA is if pay for it? Help me out, why don’t you?")
I shit you not when I say I can’t recall as fun a time as I’ve had over the past few weeks (and this despite long hours and a very strong anti-job sentiment). I’ve gone out, I’d guess, 13 of the past 15 or so nights, both with friends that I’ve been hanging out with regularly for years and with people I haven’t hung out with in months. Everything is a haze and I think different parts of my body are either dead or dying, but what a tremendous stretch it’s been – getting home at 3am on a Tuesday; spending an hour in a friend’s office "resting" because of a tremendous hangover; randomly running into that motherfucker Iha on a Wednesday night at the Tile Bar at immediately calling my old roommate Brian in California, screaming into the phone "It’s been 15 years since ‘Cherub Rock’, Iha – might be time to get a real job. I hear the Parks Department is hiring"; hitting Rosario’s at every possible opportunity and unleashing such vengeance on their beef patties that if you didn’t know any better you’d think a gang of them murdered my family; etc. An incredible few weeks, really, which makes me realize how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends and such a voracious appetite for food, booze and sex.
(Why again am I leaving?)
************
My dad and uncle are coming up Thursday night to move me out. Friday, I leave NYC and head to Philly and on Saturday morning we’re on the road for our Mulgrew Men Conquer America trip. We’re stopping in Nashville, probably on Sunday night, and in Sun City, Arizona, sometime later in the week (the former to get drunk and the latter to visit relatives). I am nervous about this, but good nervous, like when you’re pretty sure you’re going to lose your virginity; anxious and looking forward to it just to get it out of the way, and excited to see what life will be like when it’s over. That’s really the best way I can describe it. Wish us luck.
************
If a man’s sex life is measured by the amount of left-behind women’s jewelry he finds in his apartment when he’s packing up to move, then I’m just below Wilt Chamberlain but slightly above Mick Jagger. Good lord. Here I am thinking that I haven’t really been getting laid, but the evidence in the form of these artifacts disproves this nearly universally held theory. It’s not quite the discovery of Tut’s tomb, but it’s pretty remarkable nonetheless. According to these findings, I have actually been getting laid or am keeping trinkets from my murder victims, many of whom have a penchant for hoop earrings and cheap brightly colored rings (apparently, I target only gypsies). With the earrings, rings and necklaces I’ve found in various places in my apartment, I could easily open a stand somewhere in Soho. But first, I feel like I should send an email out so these items could be claimed by their rightful owners:
Ladies and that Puerto Rican guy who dressed up as a sailor on Halloween in 2006,
I’m moving out of my apartment and have discovered a lot of jewelry that does not belong to me. If you think any of these items belong to you, please contact me. If you think I’m going to use this as leverage for us to make out again, you are absolutely correct.
Thinking of you,
Jason
PS – I am so lonely.
PPS – Seriously, if we could just talk, even for 15 minutes or so, it would really help me out.
Provided, most of the time when a girl spends the night with me at my place, she’s so anxious to get out of there the next morning before I wake up that she’s liable to leave behind her arm if it’s not attached, so losing an earring is a small price to pay for freedom from a captor who smells like cinnastix. And hey, it worked out for me – I got an ego boost and lots of free jewelry. Sweet.
************
As part of the process of moving, I called my doctor to get refills of my two prescriptions: Nexium and Xanax. The former I don’t use much anymore; since I lost the weight, my heartburn has all but ceased (still it’s a good prescription to have handy and honestly, I’ve probably gained 20 pounds in the past two months, gorging on some of NYC’s finest cuisines under the auspices of “I’ll never get [NYC food] again!”). The latter I still use, but mostly to sleep – I can’t comprehend how anyone can take Xanax and drink, since it just makes me sleepy and decreases significantly my ability to get an erection. However, in the middle of a stressful week, nothing beats a nice dinner, three good beers, a long fantasy shower, and a Xanax to take the edge off and send you gently off to sleep.
My previous prescription was for 100+ pills of .25 mg, a relatively small dosage. So I called the good ol’ doc for that and the Nexium to be re-upped and wouldn’t you know, the magnificent son of a bitch, God bless him, still prescribed 100+ pills but doubled the dosage to .5 mg. Looks like those morning drives in LA are going to be a bit foggy for Uncle Jason as the alprazolam wears off. I should probably start drinking coffee.
************
While we’re handing out blessings from God, a big one goes to my cleaning lady, Zoila. One of the most emotional moments I’ve had during the move came when I wrote her a thank you and goodbye letter, telling her I was moving and, well, thanking her for all her help. I cannot quantify the positive emotional and mental impact that she, in the form of her cleaning services, has had on my life. Every other Monday morning before going to work I’d look at my apartment, covered with empty beer cans, pizza crusts, full ash trays, and other remnants of the weekend, and feel terrible about myself and my station in life. Then I’d come home that evening from a hard day at the office (read: fantasy sports and personal phone calls) and find my place immaculately clean, immediately improving my mood, confidence and self-esteem. She was like my own like Mexican-type life coach, and I will miss her dearly.
(But seriously – if you live in NYC and need a cleaning lady, I can’t recommend her highly enough. Being a cleaning lady and cutting your teeth by cleaning my place is like being that 14 year old who f’ed his super-hot teacher – you’re pretty much considered an expert immediately and infinitely from that point forward.)
************
Six Songs (special Nine Songs edition)
A twist in this edition of Six Songs: thanks to a lovely site called muxtape, you can hear each of the Six Songs selections below in their entirety – along with a few other songs I added on there that I’ve been listening to lately, since you can have up to 12 songs on your mixtape. I love this site, but I’m sure it’s going to be sued into oblivion any moment (and sometimes it takes a while to load, so you have to be patient).
"Time To Pretend" Mgmt
If there’s an anthem for the past few weeks, it’s gotta be this song. Let’s have a listen to the first verse, shall we?
I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw, I’m in the prime of my life
Let’s make some music, make some money, find some models for wives
I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars
Um, where do I sign up – because that’s exactly what I pretend too. I’m not one to guarantee things often, but I guarantee that if you listen to this song at least once a day, every day for two weeks, your penis will get bigger and you will actually become bulletproof. Trust me. My favorite line is actually toward the end:
Our models will have children, we’ll get a divorce
We’ll find some more models, everything must run its course
I don’t know if my liking this line means I’m misogynistic and view women strictly as pretty things and vessels for procreation, or I like it because it rock and I rock. Probably a bit of both. I’m just saying – you want to be bulletproof, check the song out. That’s all.
"Two Headed Boy" Neutral Milk Hotel
Hands down (HD?) my single favorite song to play when in front of people messing around with an acoustic guitar and someone says, "Oh – play us something!" The pure amount of screaming and heavy strumming in this song is breathtaking; if properly and with enough vigor, I’m pretty sure you can get someone to punch you in the face to stop before you get to the two minute mark. Just tremendous.
"Alternative to Love" Brendan Benson
I’ve recommended this song before, but with the discovery of muxtape, I had to recommend it again. Simply: there is no way that anyone cannot not like this song. I mean, when that chorus kicks in ("Maybe I’m just damaged goods…"), some part of your body has to be moving (that is, if you have feeling in all parts of your body). I could listen to this song ten times in a row and be more than ok with that.
"Right Down the Line" Gerry Rafferty
This is the song that’s on when it’s 1977 and my girl and I are getting ready in our house in the Hollywood Hills to go out to meet some friends for drinks and cocaine at some hot new club at Hollywood and La Brea. Our life is wonderful.
"Outfit" Drive-By Truckers
Nice. Good song to listen to while moving.
"This Time Tomorrow" The Kinks
Also nice. Also a good song to listen to while moving.
"Fans" Kings of Leon
Y’all know I’m a sucker for anything about kings or queens (“A King and A Queen” by Okkervil River practically makes me weep every time I hear it), and this one’s got a doozy of a line: “Those rainy days, they ain’t so bad when you’re the king.”)
"Seems to Me" Joe Walsh and the James Gang
This is the musical equivalent of opening a can of PBR while not wearing a shirt. To hell with you, woman.
"I Thought I Saw Your Face Today" She and Him
You know, I made fun of this group – the hipster dream-team combo of M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel – both on here and so mercifully to my friends that it bordered on obsession. Then, I go and download a bunch of their songs and I’m so impressed by this one in particular that I am seriously willing to pay someone (a woman, hopefully) upwards of $200 to slow dance with me while it plays. So if you’re interested – or just hard up for cash – shoot me an email.
