We flew through thunderstorms. If you've ever flown through thunder and lightning and you're a bit of a pansy/novice about flying, you may or may not know the sort of bowel-cringing fear I experienced. It was pretty except when it SHOOK THE PLANE. Lake Michigan was gorgeous during the day. And there was a tropical storm in the gulf, its name was Allison, I kept looking at the map on t.v. and saying, "Hey, that looks like a tropical depression." But nobody listened they just kept pushing me back to the free taco bar; callin' me "hun"; and dropping all their terminal "R's." It was a depression and it flooded everything, and there was a tornado.
On the other side of why-I'm-marching-into-the-first-mother-fucking-Bank-1-I-can-get-too-and-removing-all-my-account-balances. I got my mail from the last week that I didn't have sent up and I got these three lovely missives: 1) Your account has been overdrawn by 434.13 dollars, a 250 dollar fee has been added to your account, please yank yank your records to reflect this change. 2) Your account has been overdrawn by 3 dollars to a total of 687.13 dollars please blah blah blah. 3) (Here's the kicker) This check has been returned as "mutilated" (the last paycheck from the schoolboard which I deposited) 555.85 dollars has been charged to your account. In addition, a 3 dollar processing fee has been charged to your account.
So, the bitch mother fuckers mutilated my check, charged my account for it, reducing it to zero (I moved everything else out after I deposited the check) and then charged me another three dollars for mutilating my fucking check. 253 motherfucking dollars for a mistake those motherfuckers made.
I wouldn't even have this problem if the motherfuckers hadn't insisted that I close all my accounts (instead of just transferring them electronically) and what's Bank 1 like the 4th largest banking conglomerate in the world?
In the meantime, ZERO messages left on my voicemail ZERO messages left at my parent's house. ZERO communication at all. Apparently a department in TEXAS handles mutilated checks. What's the fucking problem? Can't trust those Baton Rouge troglodytes to check to see if a routing numbers still intact? Or do the Tellers in Houston have to agree on it all at once:
Gathered around Teller1: "Yep, that's a hanging routing number..."
Teller2: "Naw, mahn thass juss indented er something..."
Teller3: "Well, we can't reech a consinsus, howsaboutwe's just charge the account for the balance of the check and another three bucks just to shit."
Teller1and2 : "Thass a good idea JR! Like that time we went up to Idaho, smeared peanut butter all over our genitals, at that oldfolks home, and had a go or two, that was all your idea!"
Foot stamping and hand clappin' ensue to the chants of," WE JUSS MADE 2 hunded and fifty dollarssss, WE JUSS MADE 2 hundred and fifty dollarssss..."
In the meantime the lady tells me on the emergency line, that the cashier's check they made two weeks ago for the move, will probably have the balance taken out of it when it passes through the Baton Rouge bank that issued it - regardless of what I do tomorrow.
In other words a transfer that was completely "impossible" to quote the teller, is quite a simple affair when they need to recoup a loss that they created in the first place.
So, to this great multinational, with its dick broken off SOOOO FAR up it's colon, I offer a big, gushy
FUCKKKKKKKKKKK YOUUUUU BANK KKKKK ONEEEEE. I'm going to join that very nice Hispanic, FDIC-insured bank down Clark. Bank One Doesn't even have a fucking non-pay ATM near my area. I guess its too ethnic for them, fuckers...
"Say brah, they asked me what i was gonna do after i graduated, i said ' i'm gonna be in a rock band. It's gonna be called POWER CHORD!' " -Ben CLanton
I tried to see bad brains last night but it was sold out. cool seen outside the club though. the guy from fishbone was there wearing a tophat. otherwise the same old ny bullshit. saw victor hebert on the subway. read 'norwegian wood' by haruki murakami. really enjoyable. also, allen iverson's postgame interviews are awesome. p.s. martin grimes bring it on i'll whup your ass just like your mama used to do at the grocery store
Today marks my last day working at the McDonald's of coffee shops in downtown Oakland -- the only job thus far that's resulted in involuntary termination. Not that I was very happy working there anyway. I was going to quit as soon as I found something better, but they beat me to it. They fired me because I don't move fast enough and was often "not present," meaning mentally. I admit, I often have trouble focusing on the situation at hand. They were probably right to fire me. But I'm not very upset, and I'm actually beginning to take some comfort in this truth. Menial work with boring people and not-so-interesting customers -- even if I was able to stay focused and show some enthusiasm for such a thing, what would that say about myself? Of course my head is always in the clouds, because I'm not happy with my present situation, so I'm always daydreaming of something better. So when will I find something better? I honestly believe I'm getting much closer. I'm tired of working below my potential, only to be under-appreciated and under-paid. I like to believe that I lost that job because there's a part of myself that refuses to let someone of my intelligence and creativity submit to something so mechanical.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how severely out of touch I've been with my creativity, and it angers me. A couple of days ago, I sat and sketched in my sketchbook for an hour for the first time in quite some time, and I wondered why I ever stopped. My art (to use the term humbly) is one of the few things I'm completely at ease with. The things that have always brought me the most happiness have been the things that let me forget myself, and nothing allows me to do that better than my art. So I've decided to go through a serious reconstruction, and make my creativity a much more primary concern. I've decided to start promoting myself as a freelance illustrator. It will take a while to build an impressive portfolio, and even longer to build a considerable reputation, and probably much longer (if ever) to be absolutely self-employed on my work alone, but after some soul searching, this seems to be the way to go.
Some of you reading this are probably thinking, "Well, Brad changed his mind again. What's new? I wonder what it'll be next week..." But I assure you, this isn't just more fantasy. I'm now closer than ever to realizing my strengths and limitations and what it is that I really want out of life, and I'm simply making a decision as I best see fit based on that. You might be saying, "What about all the acting stuff you always post about? Are you just going to forget about it completely?" No, I'm still interested in acting -- I still get a lot of pleasure from it -- but more as a hobby now, and more as something I have more control over. I would much rather write, produce, direct, and act in my own productions or that of friends than subject myself to lots of cold, callous casting directors, week after week, only to face rejection, busting my ass with some boring, menial job, just to support that endeavor. If by some miracle I do end up a successful actor, that's great, but I'm not going to put myself through hell trying to make it happen when I know I'm better suited for something else.
By the way, while I'm on the subject of creativity, I've been itching to do another zine lately. I'll keep everyone posted on how that's coming along.
Last night, myself and fellow Killogger, close friend, and mentor Arnie met fellow Killogger Loren and his special lady friend, Kelly, to see a movie at the Parkway Theater in Oakland. This was the first time Arnie and I met Loren, and we both agree, he's a fine young Killogger. Before we parted our separate ways after the movie, Loren said something like, "This was fun. We should hang out again soon." -- it was truly a beautiful moment.
