|Posted on 2004-09-28 12:10:17 by Denver|
Unemployment Fall '04
|Denver? denver? |
this is Eppie.
What's going on? I heard you got laid off from your job at the bank. man -hey i'm sorry to hear that. you can't appease the Man though. You never will. Didn't you tell me that back in Chico?
Denver I'm hanging out, thinking of you.
I was reading an old novel - it's called "women" by Charles Bukowski- I haven't read Bukowski in ages - probably since the days when you used to carry Ham on Rye in your back pocket, over there on, what was it? Sixth and...Fuckit, I don't even remember the name of the street. remember we used to crash bikes in that parking lot of the grocery store. gold country. life was golden. yeah.
I had a close call last month. If you know what i'm talking about, i wish i could talk to ya about it. it was a close call with my lady. I'm not living with her anymore. That was a problem. Not a problem exactly, but it wasn't a solution. Living together, I've tried it before. With Colleen. With Sarah. It can be a beautiful thing.
We used to drink black label- what's happening buddy?
It sounds like I'm being nostalgiac - that's cause I am - hanging out, got nothing else better to do - I quit my job - a couple of weeks ago - I didn't like it much- I worked for an Iranian man who was all about business and didn't care about the food - poor Iranian man - all about business - they don't like America- at least he didn't - he hated America but you know, he made about two million a year here so he couldn't really fight it -and uh...well...he just didn't like my food. Motherfucker. i thought i was the executive chef. but I was his servant. make your own tapas. i'm not your servant. everybody wants a servant. that's the funny thing, man. Everybody wants to be the master.
So anyways, just hanging out. give me a call. you know, um, waiting for my next job as a chef to kind of roll around and fall into my hands you know, things seem to just kind of come to me that way. You know, they just kind of come to me and I don't really have to do a lot of searching for them. Ya know, unless of course, I go back to New York which is always a fucking great idea to entertain, ya know. Maybe I just come visit. Get out there for a little r&r. Or maybe just work at a little french place down in Soho. A little kitchen with fresh ingredients and a discriminating clientele. I don't need a team of sous chefs or some asshole telling me I don't know the stink of gouda or how to sell sausage. If I feel like selling lamb kidney stew i don't want to have to hold a meeting with every investor. You can make that stuff in soho. You don't have to ask permission. I kinda miss the days, now that I'm sober, by the way, I don't smoke or drink or anything anymore...i'm doing that at least for a year, I'm going to go a whole year. And it's been about, it's been about three weeks or something, things seem to be going alright, and uh, anyways, i always entertain the idea of going back to new york. and i won't ramble much more so give me a call when you can and maybe we can start to do what we originally planned which is to communicate over the email.
i'll talk to you soon.
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