Free Rubble

So, last night, Will and I were driving down Cedar, and I spied a sign in a Pizza Hut restaurant that said "WE'RE HIRING DELIVERY DRIVERS!" And it actually crossed my mind to apply.

Last week, Will and I got into an argument over which one of us was going to apply for a "Tattoo Artist's" position. They were willing to train the right applicant, hence my interest.

The whole argument was ridiculous. If either of us should be applying for anything in the world of Art, it should be Will. Of course. But, the thought of displacing some frustration and piercing strangers' skin with a needle and injecting permanent dye into it has been striking a fancy with me lately. As has apparently, the thought of delivering pizzas.

Both positions have their pluses and minuses, I suppose.

As a tattoo artist, I could fully embrace not shaving for a week or weeks at a time. But, I already do that, so that's somewhat mundane.

As a tattoo artist, I could have the chance to tattoo peoples danger zones. And that could be fun. Or hot. Or nauseating.

As a pizza delivery man, I could fully embrace not shaving for a week or weeks at a time. But...We've already been through that.

As a pizza delivery man, I could rub my balls on the crusts before I deliver the pizza and no one would be the wiser. The person at the door would pay me, maybe even tip me and say, "THANK YOU!" And I'd reply, "NO! Thank YOU!" And I'd walked back to the car thinking how much I enjoyed my job.

The attraction has been to be gainfully employed. To be a productive member of society. To be told what to do and to be paid for it. Not really coloring on peoples' skin or tea-bagging their dinners without them knowing, however attractive those might seem sometimes.

I've been in an over-indulgent state of depression lately. Redundant, I know.

I've been staring out the window, sleeping too much and eating even more.

Will asked me the other day, "Are you eating to fill an emotional void?"

I just stared at him like he was asking the most silly question ever and replied rather incredulously, "YES...Duh!"

Will then inquired, "Well, is it working?"

And I said, "NO! That's why I'm eating MORE...GOSH!"

And then, Will said, "You sound like Napoleon Dynamite."

And I replied, "SHUT UP! GOSH!" And I haphazardly ran away in my moon boots.

Before my laptop burned up two weeks ago, which that combined with our nearby market not having ready-made Spanikopita - almost sent me into tears (Seriously, I just looked at the guy behind the deli counter with tears welling up in my eyes and squeaked, "You don't have Spanikopita???" And he replied, "No, but we DO HAVE spinach pizza." And on the verge of crying, I yelled back, "IT'S NOT THE SAME!!" and hurried away before I broke down...in my moon boots.), I was staring at Craigslist every morning hoping for great free stuff. We don't have money to spend and neither one of us is working, so browsing for free things on Craigslist is like going garbage picking or dumpster diving, which not only am I not above doing, I've done both avidly. Somehow, I just managed to make myself feel worse by truly realizing that I've actually been in a dumpster on more than one occasion... Luckily, I was usually wearing clothes and usually conscious.

So, while perusing Craigslist, I've asked Will if he would like a player piano, a crystal punch bowl with cups still in the box (it went quick, the fuckers didn't even reply to me), an Adult Potty Seat (WILL! We'll EVENTUALLY need it.), a 3 Tray Dehydrator (I don't even know what the F that is...), free milk (they bought a gallon too much and won't use it before the expiration date), an Asthma Care Kit (neither one of us has Asthma, but hey, it's free), a Pregnancy Book - What to Expect When You're Expecting (because we should always expect the unexpected), or a World Book Encyclopedia Set from 1969 (Curiously, Funk & Wagnalls ALWAYS made me think of penis, even when I was a kid... but then again, so did that big Kool Aid asshole who kept blasting through all those walls jacking everything up. I have no idea why either of those things made me think of male peeps, so don't even ask.)

We actually settled on a pile of bricks, red bricks, unfortunately there were only 12 of them. But, we really scored with a kindergartner's chair, (because...What? We collect babydolls and need a fucking chair to put them on??) and a piece of luggage from the 20's that belonged to the guy's Mother and it was filled with cassette tapes. Cassette tapes...Which are about as useful as a mouthful of dirt.

Poor Will has humored me with some of this, but the rest of the time, he just shakes his head and replies, "WE DON'T NEED A PLAYER PIANO."

I beg to differ, but whatever.

So yes. I've been living a super productive lifestyle collecting bricks, old luggage and cassette tapes and staring. I've gotten so good at staring, you wouldn't believe it. It's an existence that I've been longing for and well, now I have it. You're jealous, I know. Look, someone's got to do it. It might as well be me.

Well, in all honesty, I'm having a difficult time trying to find my stride again. As you've probably noticed. I've been hoping, but not acting. As though everything I want is going to fall in my lap on my oversized genitalia.

Sometimes when I'm doing my best staring job, I think of Einstein's quote that "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." and I think, "He's RIGHT! We don't need that Asthma Care Kit. Maybe those two broken televisions or that pile of coal in that guy's basement!"

There are many reasons why Will and I moved from California to Cleveland. One of them being to live in a more affordable area and to give ourselves a block of time to finally work for just ourselves and pursue our dreams. And if not? Well, then he'll probably be a tattoo artist and I'll be delivering pizzas that I've wiped my balls upon. And if that's the course, than that's the course. I'll be the best damn delivery driver/tea bagger this side of the Mississippi. But, in the meantime, I'm trying to drum up the courage to get back on my feet after the last few months and get to work. To get published and to get my one-person play finally on its feet. And to hopefully blow the audience off of theirs. And I'm trying to remember that nothing really worth while comes easy or free. And if it's bricks I want, than I'll be all set. But even then, there were only 12 of them. And yes, 12 is more than 11, but it's still only 12.

And I was hoping for more.