Jan. 17th, 2015

thene: The Joy is facepalming at you. (facepalm)
a) I'm in San Francisco because job
b) everyone else is finally done with our boss's bullshit and we are talking about collectivising (not that the Americans would dare to think of it that way). It's funny because recessionary learned helplessness has had me rolling with so much bullshit, but as of Wednesday both the Cyborg and the Bond Girl are terminally done with this shit and personally insulted and are needing to shake shit up, and that is two of the four people who matter, and boss just kinda fakeout not-really fired one of the other two. We're getting together to talk about it on Monday, and all I want to do is lay down some tools we have available collectively.

I am holed up in the allegedly worst part of San Francisco, in a beautiful converted office lot, stretching my legs and my fuckwith nonce, letting other people use the word 'mutiny' (idk is this the american libertarian way of dealing with colllectivising) and if I had to explain San Francisco, I would say it was like Barcelona except you would not want to live here. Visiting is cool though. Everything runs off of someone else's money, it's fantastic. I have been drunk on someone else's corporate dime every night this week. We're going to a Bonobo set tomorrow night, which will be the first time I've paid for anything after lunch. The Pure Largesse Lifestyle is real, and it is here, and it's tax-deductible to someone, somewhere, if only at 50%.

Every woman I work with except Spike has been subject to creepiness, harassment or unwanted touching this week; in my case, the guy whose hands I physically removed from my body on Tuesday was the Director of Something Important at Important Company, and i get to spend 5 exciting seconds mulling over this before rejecting his linkedin request because apparently this is the world I temporarily live in for as long as I force myself to feign giving a flying shit. This is the WORST time of year to fuck with me because I am literally fending off better paying job offers or letting them go to voicemail. The problem with the future is that it gradually becomes the present and that is the line where the value of discounted future bullshit reaches zero.

So if we don't have a workable asshole-curbing rig by the end of Monday, I may have a whole other career in a week or two; who knows.

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thene: Happy Ponyo looking up from the seabed (Default)
thene

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