Orlando
So, I'm not even going to write about the holiday season except to say I'm glad it's over. I cannot take the pressure, the dates, the expectations, having to buy people presents, having to buy myself presents. I just like time. Flowing time. Seasons. Holidays are fine but I can do without the inflatables.
So, I have to go to Orlando to this trade show soon. I do not want to go. Because it is futile. Unless you have a booth/are an exhibitor trade shows are no way to get business. This trade show issue is everything that is wrong with my boss. He thinks they work and I actually said to him, "Have you ever gottany any business from trade shows?" And after rambling for a while, the bottom line was "no." But it's his deal so I have to go. I am dreading it. I hate Orlando. At least I hate the concept of Orlando. Orlando is kind of like Christmas to me. Mass. Lost its original value. Commerce driven yet hiding behind some cheap family warmth.
How am I? Work is fine. Save Orlando. I am on a roll. Bed early wake early. I'd like to lose a few pounds. I feel the first Christmas weight gain I've had in years. I suppose it's because it's the first Xmas season I have not been working out 7 days a week since 2000. C'est la vie. My friend moved to Sullivan and Prince from Harlem. She is so happy. She said "everyone is either wealthy or works from home in an interesting job and lives in a great space." It made me wistful for all of the above. Food shopping in SoHo at 11AM on a Tuesday morning wearing my Todd's loafers and my ghetto fabulous Gucci belt on my low cut Helmut Lang 31" jeans as I chatted with the sales boy in Burberry and pet some Brazilan's Havanese. Maybe again. Not. Never again. I will never be 34 with 4% bodyfat and not a care in the world again. And I knew it at the time and enjoyed it for the most part. I was shallow but I was recovering from PTSD and that was what I needed. To think, I did not have one drink or drug in all of 2002 and 2003. No wonder my skin looked so good.
Anyway, I'm sounding like the asshole's I revile. The girls I work with who buy $140 face cream and read Star Magazine. Why do so many people want to be famous? I think it's like Zeus and Hera and all that. I think people are unhappy and just think that that kind of life means happiness. More people should read.
Anyway, that's my brain dump of the night. I'm back. I'm here I'm queer get used to it.
So, I have to go to Orlando to this trade show soon. I do not want to go. Because it is futile. Unless you have a booth/are an exhibitor trade shows are no way to get business. This trade show issue is everything that is wrong with my boss. He thinks they work and I actually said to him, "Have you ever gottany any business from trade shows?" And after rambling for a while, the bottom line was "no." But it's his deal so I have to go. I am dreading it. I hate Orlando. At least I hate the concept of Orlando. Orlando is kind of like Christmas to me. Mass. Lost its original value. Commerce driven yet hiding behind some cheap family warmth.
How am I? Work is fine. Save Orlando. I am on a roll. Bed early wake early. I'd like to lose a few pounds. I feel the first Christmas weight gain I've had in years. I suppose it's because it's the first Xmas season I have not been working out 7 days a week since 2000. C'est la vie. My friend moved to Sullivan and Prince from Harlem. She is so happy. She said "everyone is either wealthy or works from home in an interesting job and lives in a great space." It made me wistful for all of the above. Food shopping in SoHo at 11AM on a Tuesday morning wearing my Todd's loafers and my ghetto fabulous Gucci belt on my low cut Helmut Lang 31" jeans as I chatted with the sales boy in Burberry and pet some Brazilan's Havanese. Maybe again. Not. Never again. I will never be 34 with 4% bodyfat and not a care in the world again. And I knew it at the time and enjoyed it for the most part. I was shallow but I was recovering from PTSD and that was what I needed. To think, I did not have one drink or drug in all of 2002 and 2003. No wonder my skin looked so good.
Anyway, I'm sounding like the asshole's I revile. The girls I work with who buy $140 face cream and read Star Magazine. Why do so many people want to be famous? I think it's like Zeus and Hera and all that. I think people are unhappy and just think that that kind of life means happiness. More people should read.
Anyway, that's my brain dump of the night. I'm back. I'm here I'm queer get used to it.
posted by Bart at 10:43 PM
1 Comments:
Hey Man...
Thanks.
I'll write back soon.
Mick
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