Again, again... Again, again.

Hey y'all, I back!... Again, again... Again, again.

So for those of you keeping tabs: I'm back at the school working full time. I've taken on teaching some new courses, and have hopefully made myself a little more indispensable. On the side I've done pretty much any job that's come my way as a show of good faith to the universe and the Abyss; should they ever feel compelled to forsake me again I would hope that this display has been enough earn their reconsideration.

I've lured a handsome boyfriend and if there is proof of a well executed collaboration between the universe and myself I think this is certainly it.

I'm in the hole, by I feel as light as air and have a shit eating grin on my face much of the time.

And for this reason I wont post long today, cause feeling this pleased is no fun to watch and I don't want my character to come off as self congratulating as Amy Adams when I sell my rights for big money. And who would be me? The self-involved dilettante with a heart of gold... or silver... With my luck they'd probably cast Tori Spelling, right?
ttyl, A

The Abyss

The Abyss is the place where all of my 'sent messages' go.
The Abyss is infinite and unyielding. It cares little about my well being and even less about my feelings. The Abyss has all of my amazing cover letter, C.V.'s, marriage agreements, and party invitations as well as all of the theoretical money written down in my name... all of the stuff I'll have to pay back to the bank at some point (that point is supposed to be the day I explode into success... the same day I will upgrade my wardrobe and shoes, buy a house and give my parents a luxury car.) But in the meantime the Abyss is holding onto that future.

My craigslist post initially fared a lot better in Los Angeles than in Toronto, I will assume the lack of wealthy gay men in need of a kept trophy in these cold parts had more to do with that than anything else. But ultimately I sent that request into the Abyss as well. Toronto offered me no replies, zero, zilch... nada. Whereas the post in L.A. found a fan base among horned up "str8 acting" 40 something’s in L.A. One of whom wrote me a novel about why we would be perfect for one another, that is until I replied with a pic of my face and a term I coined on the spot and would like to submit for popular use : "Gay Acting," or maybe it was "really gay acting" one way or another I'd say both are accurate descriptions, but not exactly music to the 'discreet' man's ear. And there once again, my marriage proposal was sucked into the Abyss. Funny because at the time, the time I had received the novel, I had thought to myself, shit bitch now that I've decided to be a housewife and this man is describing his home... the one we will share, all I can think is that I want a big important Hollywood career. Do you think I'm media savvy enough to work in a studio mailroom?
but these fantasies of financial stability both earned and otherwise are all for not cause 50 year old grandpas and minimum wage careers at LUSH! don't want me.
I got my 1st Job callback after sending out an unimaginable amount of career S.O.S' in the last month. LUSH! cosmetics called to ask me in to interview for the position of COMPOUNDER, which means 'lotion mixer.' I showed up, dressed up was polite professional and the lot, knowing I would at best get hired to work full time for 13 bucks an hour. To be honest I thought I had it in the bag, but to be sure, I asked the interviewer, Erika, to e-mail me regardless of whether I would be hired, I explained to her my relationship with the Abyss and she was sympathetic. She kept her word and gave me the ol' no thanks yesterday, but noted that she'd keep me in mind for Xmas... Lemme tell you right now, If I'm still this hard up for work by Xmas, I will kill myself, no ifs ands or buts. Dead, D.I.E., dead.
So today with my tail between my legs, I'm sending C.V.'s back out, I'm looking into social assistance so I can make rent this month, and trying to find solace in the problems of others. Specifically the problems of Jessica Wakefield and Lila Fowler as they duke it out for Jack the constriction worker (from a good ( read rich) family)'s affection. And trying to find out how to ask Parents to let their sons participate in my art project... any ideas?
p.s. the Abyss also took my linear communication skills away

Into the blue

This is the first part of a Post in 2 parts:

I continue to search, fruitlessly, for gainful employment. Something that will enable me to pay rent within the next 22 days and will, hopefully, not leave me feeling completely unhinged. I lurk on the job boards refreshing my browser and grabbing greedily at every new posting as it arrives, quietly hoping each time that the position announced will be perfectly suited to me and that the H.R. person on the other end will be sufficiently impressed and allured by my cover letter and C.V. but I should know better. Obvs that's not the case. How has 'social media' become the new "jobs in culture"???? Seriously every posting i see is for a glorified underpaid personal assistant position or mail room assistant, or coffee brewer, but they all require a background in social media and specialization in communications. I just wonder how there can be this much demand for social media and p.r. From my vantage point it looks like there are no products, only promotions. Every event is another opportunity to sell another product, but who's making all the products when every able body is participating in social media and networking their way up the freebie chain? Everyone's vying for our attention so much of the time, everything that we take on culturally at a 'divertissement' is instantly if not from it's inception turned into a vehicle to soft advertise and promote to us. When do we get to innocently exist without all of that? (I will, I promise revisit this topic in honor of J.J's efforts for Beautiful City, and excellent initiative 7 years in the making aiming at putting tariffs on billboards in the GTA that would fund public art projects in the city.)

It's not that I have anything against P.R. I'm just surprised by how big that industry is, especially considering how seemingly cynical the public has become... like how yesterday Cassie said , when her computer was high jacked and someone forwarded pictures of her topless flaunting her pierced nipples around the interweb: "DONT ACT LIKE YOU NEVER SEEN A TITTY" on her twitter. I'm sure that's not the best example of cynicism in the face of tightly controlled P.R. cause we all know Cassie's first album had disappointing sales (despite being an opus of staggering magnitude) and her second album is going to drop soon after being pushed back several times and the relative sleeper success of "Official Girl" even with a bridge rap by pop music's current Midas Man, Lil' Wayne. Point is, it's not a huge surprise to see Cassie's perfectly shaped models tits on the internet when bitch is trying to get her ass noticed. But really how well does the "one night in Paris" approach actually work? P.R.'s you can help us here with the official trade stance on flashing your fanny for attention, I sure you have some statistics on leaked: sex tapes, photo's, texts, etchings or sculptures made in likeness of....

See, even still I'm somewhat media savvy, well not really, but enough to make interesting conversation while I toil in the mailroom. Well more than enough to keep my superiors from developing guilt feelings about their ranking in the ostensibly Darwinian chequing/pecking order they find themselves in .

But this is all an abstraction cause the truth is I have no real interest in working in a mailroom. I'm just frustrated with sending messages in to the Abyss.

I also don't want another mindless job. After teaching and being able to use my skills and creativity at work on a daily basis and in an inventive capacity, no less, I can't go back to standing beside a rack of clothing and trying to pimp jersey minidresses to rich 20 year olds magazine internships and business cards that say "social media expert' cause they were born with cell phones in their hands and they used to instant message their moms for tit cream.

Whatevs, I'd rather sell shitty dresses and cheap sunglasses to privileged youth that not work at all.

More on this tomorrow
A

This is like that lazer surgery that made me a backdoor virgin again... again.

Hey babe,
I'm back on the spot, makin it hot, spitting fiyah and confessin a lot.
For all those of you who used to follow my Friendster blog, back when we were all using friendster, well this is it's new incarnation, like the flower. So that means don't be handing out this url to just anyone. I am willing to: humiliate and defile myself and make myself prostrate for a good narrative, provided that I know who's in the audience.

But, that being said, don't be afraid to kick me while I'm down. You who have been invited to follow should absolutely feel free to comment no matter how harsh or malicious, infact, the more brutal the better.

So we'll file today's posts under "desperate acts"
Exhibit A of "Desperate Acts" is a Craigslist posting in the M4M section of the sex locator that i will publicly suggest was a 'creative endevor', a.k.a a junior art project, a social litmus test or to some a straight up joke. But what it really was, was the desperate plea of a young man who doesn't have a clue what to do.
finding a job is just part of the problem, the real issue is not having any real direction or interest in a direction... All I want is fancy cookware, a backyard and a 7-figah-ni**ah, well he doesn't have to be black, but that would help.

Anyways I sent this out into the universe, for better or worse, and straight up, i was hoping it'd turn out for better, but it seems God has something else in mind for me, cause nary a perspective husband has replied to my offer of companionship, colourful food and anal sex .

If you, in the mean time, know of any gays in needs of a 'hot male housewife 'send em' my way.

Check me out next time when i get into the dirty details of the bootycall and The Fundamental Conflict.

xoxo, Gossip Girl