I like getting drunk and writing letters to faceless corporations when one of their local managers really hooks me up. I’ve done this with the dude who helped me put on a air filter at Autozone in the pouring rain at 11pm, etc. I also write vengeful letters when i feel i am crossed but mostly they are to help someone at a shitty job get something in their folder that says they are a good employee.
i’m not usually the letter writing type. I’m a 25 year old freelance webdesigner who recently has been traveling to new orleans to pick up customers from company which lost their data center in the storm. This means lots of driving to random parts of new orleans to meet these new clients. I’m a Cancer and really don’t like leaving my apartment but i love new orleans and want to eventually move there so traveling down there is worth the time and expense. The first time i went down and just took cabs everywhere. This was obviously not the right choice and it’s also a lot more difficult to write off cash for cabs on taxes.
The second time i came down there i got a car from you guys based off my friend’s advice. Now I have mastered having you pick me up from the train station, getting my car and going about my day. What really sold me on you guys was the Sunday i left. I had to return my car to the Airport location since the Barone street location was closed on sunday. This kinda sucked. I get there and they say they can’t take me to the train station since it’s way outside of their range. I understand this, we’re all the way in Kenner. The woman who took the car said the shuttle would take me to the airport where i could get a cab. It would have been at least $45 after tip to take a cab from the airport to the train station. I walk in and ask what looks like a manager if there is anyway they could make a exception. I don’t know if they were just slow that day or if he’s just a great manager but he had one of his people drive me to the train station.
If i hadn’t been in such a hurry i would have got a card from him so i could drop his name in this but even if this was a direct violation of the enterprise policy, it was still great you stuck to your “we’ll pick you up” slogan. Please thank the manager at the new orleans airport location for saving me a expensive cab ride. I’ll be in New Orleans again tomorrow and will going with you guys again.
Last night Peter calls and says he left his bottle of Maker’s Mark in my freezer. I have a lady friend over and do not want Peter rolling up into my date. And by date i mean, forcing her to sit in my hot computer room and drink wine with me. I grab Peter’s Makers Mark from the freezer, glass of wine in other hand and walk outside to give it to him.
My neighbors who know im a raging alcoholic, are out on their porch. I wave to them and hand peter the brown paper bag and he drives off. Any FBI operatives watching and photographing just file it under “drug deal”. My neighbors stare and i try to make small talk, mostly slurring and probably making zero sense, and go back inside.
Im just waiting for the walls of my life to crumble down and wake up in Gitmo.
I know it’s kinda normal to wake up feeling this shitty every day. I think you really become a adult when you realize that you’re probably not ever going to get farther in life then where you are at now. There is no bright future, no happy ending, no light at the end of the tunnel. We work our shitty lives just to maintain a place to live, a car to drive and money to eat and insurance to cover your car. You get about 5 hours per workday for yourself, the rest is just rotting and trying to replace whats broken.
This is probably just the memphis talking but i really can’t wait for the sweet cold release of death. Knowing that you’re never going to have to deal with another asshole redneck about his website, never pay another timewarner or mlgw bill, never have deal with another vague error message, sounds pretty good right now.
It sucks that my site has become so emo and i think a lot of this has to do with turning 26. I’ve gotten rid of my lame girlfriend, i’ll be out of this shitty city by september but what do i do until then? You can only spend so many hours killing time at your computers watching movies and talking on aim. Every girl i’ve met in this redneck city has the the depthness of your average house pet. Oh well, it’s back to new orleans again.
So i brought my dad a 8 piece of gus’s fried chicken and a tall boy of pabst. Marla had been at my parent’s while i was in nola and she seemed really excited to come home back to my shithole, non airconditioned, overexpensive apartment. If i was here i wouldn’t have left.
No motherfucker can say im not a good son. Most people like me just called their poor dad on father’s day and say “sup, thanks for not aborting me, happy father’s day”. I was on a amtrak on the way back from the dirty south on father’s day so i tried to make up for it today.
I rolled deep into my parent’s house, ate mad chicken, drank a pabst with fathertoad, tried to fix their jacked up aol internet connection and came home with marla.
I left her at my the apartment and went up to reedmeisters for a drink with gatelyhore. I lost 2 games in a row to some shark and fucking left. I drank i dunno how many glasses of beer and 2 shots of jager which pretty much put me into…..where i am now now….plus wearing pants….i love you chester and gately
now im going to sleep.
i hate myself and iwant to die.
Woke up in Swede’s studio around noon to Trip meowing questioningly. There is something truely magical about that cat. That cat has more personality that most of the girls i have met on myspace.
I drive my rental car back to Enterprise, complete with Popeye’s chicken bones and empty bottles of abita littering the floor of the passenger side. The look on that woman’s face when i slid into parking lot going 35mph, scrape the front on the curb and jump out.
I grab my cowboy hat and my bags and get a ride to train station. I get on, get drunk and end up sitting and reading for most of the trip. I get off at Jackson and bum a handrolled cig from this long haired hippy. Named Gabriel, we sit and talk about new orleans, what we were both doing down there, drugs, etc. The typical get to know you bullshit. He’s a die hard hippy, talking about how he’s been living in a tent for the last 2 months and by led zepplin tattoos that he’s probably not lying. He’s been down there doing demolition and roofing and talking about how tired he is after all the work he’s been doing. He asks me what i was doing down there and i explain how i am web jesus, sent to new orleans to save from their website sins. He asks how many hours a week i work. I tell him as few as possible.
The train finally gets to memphis and i feel that wonderful wave of depression wash over me when i realize that suicide or moving seems to be the plan for this fall. Something has to change, undeniable dliemia. Memphis is not a burden anyone should bear.
So last night i didn’t really have any plans. I drove past a Popeyes and decided that fried chicken will be a good start of my evening. I stood in line and listened to the natives make small talk. I was standing in between 2 very large black women, both in hospital scrubs. They were talking about what they did during the hurricane, which is a pretty common conversaton here now, still.
I was so taken by what the one woman said that i demanded i buy her chicken. She said no but i insisted. After a few minutes of demanding she finally let me buy her 3 piece. I walk out with my chicken, high off good karma and stop at at grocery store and buy a 6 pack of natural light tall boys.
I then procede to drive around the french quarter, chicken in one hand, beer in other, bumping nola rap and really taking in the experience. I love this city.