My kind of Cash

“Where did the money come from?” I asked an upper management friend from my last job.

“Don’t worry about it.” She replied. “Just roll with it.” 

Shortly before 3am there was a loud popping noise. It could have been gunfire. I hear gunfire in this neighborhood every couple of months. It only got my attention this time because it was so close. Side of my building, close. Seconds later, all the power in my building went out. I went outside and met up with my downstairs neighbor. ‘Did you call the manager?” He asked. Yeah no. And besides, I think Nevada Power, is the more reasonable phone call to make at 3am. Which someone apparently did. From 3am to 6am utility trucks came and went to fix the outage. Who knows what happened? 

6am, after the utility trucks left, power restored, I finally fell back to sleep, woke up around 8am, and panicked because I missed Miso’s morning feeding. Poor kitty. I searched for my little stray cat but could not find him anywhere. I’m sure the utility trucks scared him off. I felt like shit all day. Lack of sleep and no kitty. I looked for Miso when I got off work. No luck. I looked a few times. Nothing. It’s 2:42am right now and I just looked again. No kitty. 5:14am still no kitty. 

Ignorance is bliss. It truly is. For the past 13 months, up until a few weeks ago, I was totally ignorant of the bullshit going on in my building. Well, not totally ignorant. Every time something seemed “off” inside my apartment I just let it go. Alas there’s only so many times you can let shit go. And all this animosity, all this passive aggressive animosity regarding the strange goings on inside my apartment when I’m gone, is all because I feed a hungry neighborhood cat? 

I couldn’t care less if you don’t like me. I don’t like most people. I get it. But I tolerate a lot. I tolerate people talking loud on their cell phones in close quarters. I tolerate people putting their feet up on furniture in restaurants like the world is their living room. I tolerate people who ride their motorcycles at 2am only in residential areas rather than the open road like it was designed for. Tolerance is the only way to survive one ridiculous day into the next. “Just roll with it.” But some people would rather fuck you, trespass against you, for no reason other than because they feel entitled to. And that’s where my tolerance ends. 

Dear kids, you’ll get the gist...

“I let a friend stay with me. She needed a room to rent. And while we were roommates she stole my identity. She stole my social security card, my identity, and started a new life as me. I hate this town. It’s so fucked up.” she complained. And that’s the only conversation I’ve ever had with this nutjob who lurks my building, furthermore she did most of the talking. I guess her life motto is, “Fuck over forward.” 

So again, I have to ask, all this passive aggressive destructive animosity towards me because I feed a neighborhood cat?  You poked a hole in his ear. You actually stalked this particular cat for no other reason than to hurt him. And you think it’s the town that’s fucked up? 

At last Miso stopped by to eat. He was a very hungry boy. Poor thing. 

We talk about mental illness all the time. We talk about what an epidemic it’s become, like the homeless. We theorize how it got this way. 

But

Wouldn’t it be nice if just one political party actually cared enough about it too? I mean like all year around, not just during election time. 

Well, you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Workin' in the dark against your fellow man

But as sure as God made black and white

What's down in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Johnny Cash 

https://youtu.be/ht7mxF9XZiA

10 watt blog

Well now... 

I started the day with more money in my bank account than the night before. My last job, it seems, finally paid me the raise that was given to me back in June, or was it May? I left that company end of August for one thing because they didn’t pay me, but I guess they now saw fit to give me the money anyway. Was the money an apology? Because really, that’s not an apology. I certainly wasn’t expecting the money anymore that’s why I left. Still, it was cool of them to give me the money albeit almost nine weeks too late. Money, nice as it is, is not an apology. An apology would be them showing up at my apartment with 20 El Gordo crunchy beef tacos, and holding up a boom-box in my front yard playing the soundtrack to I, TONYA. People should apologize more with tacos... and soundtracks. I do miss working for them. A lot. I admit it. Breaking up is hard to do.

You must see (movie) BUTTER. It’s brilliant. Funny. And so entirely true. Every rebel, every wayward, every nonconformist, every runaway, every nerd, every artist, every person with a heart, soul, and independent thought, has always (always!) rooted for the underdog. You’ll love this film. 

  

Brooke, the lovable hardened stripper in BUTTER, is cool AF. Reminds me of some ladies I used to know back in the day.😉But what Brooke does with the cash afterwards made her my hero. Miss Jill and Mr Ethan, love them. 

The villain among revolutionaries has always been, will always be, the rich white self aggrandizing trespassing, asshole. Be rich. Be white. I have zero problems with rich and white. Live and let live. But add to that self-important, self-aggrandizing, trespassing, self-entitled, and you can just go fuck yourself. 

Viva La Revolution! (bitch)

It never ceases to amaze me how those with so much to lose, OJ Simpson, think they can hurt those who have nothing to lose. I may have only one flower, but that one flower will mean more to me long after it dies, than your entire rose garden that, no matter how much you own and grow, will never come close to filling that giant empty hole in you. I’d feel sorry for you but, you made that void. It’s entirely your fault. 

Money and power don’t buy happiness at my age. I’ve outlived three of my childhood friends who all died of cancer before their 50th birthday. I’ll be 51 in January. It puts things into a rather harsh perspective. Money’s nice but at my age I’d rather make art, read poetry, eek by, own nothing, and be surrounded by creative good kind people. 

Yep. 51 years old in January. Once we hit 50, we could literally DIE any day. 

If I had to reflect what my biggest accomplishment for 2019 was, it’s this...

I’ve proved several times this year, more so in the last few weeks, how the pen remains mightier than the sword. All the letters I’ve written in the last few weeks, around 15, have reached all intended recipients. Furthermore, all have written back with positive information and (shall we say) very keen interest in any developments. 

The pen is mightier than the sword, honey. 

At least mine is.

Batshit crazy like OJ

A monster punctured a hole in Miso’s ear. 

Animal abuse is the first sign of a sociopath. Mental illness. 

Sociopaths lack empathy. It’s not conditional. Sociopaths are cruel to all living things, cats, dogs, even their own children. It’s a form of madness like munchausen by proxy.

Everyone knows who the sociopath is, right?

There’s a terrible unease when the sociopath is around. They lack basic social skills. Awkward laughing. Over-explaining. They force themselves to appear what they perceive as normal. Sociopaths cannot hide behind charm or wit. Colleagues secretly shudder working beside them. They’re the least liked person among their peers. Even their own children run away from them. 

You may have heard a sociopath say, “I hate cats” or “It’s just a cat” but simply saying so isn’t enough for a sociopath. Sociopaths must also abuse. Harm. Even kill. Like OJ Simpson. Oh. That’s right. He was acquitted.🙄

Fortunately there are PLENTY of animal rights activists, and animal protection laws right here in Las Vegas. Animal abuse is a very, very serious crime. 

I haven’t mentioned it before, I had my reasons, but now I’ll tell you. There’s a person who hates that I feed this cat. They hate my kindness for this cat. They hate my care and consideration for this cat. They hate my worry and concern for this cat. And they hate the love that’s grown for this cat, not just by me but by most everyone in the neighborhood.

They hate.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

Because choosing to be filled with hate is a reasonable way to live, apparently. Like Hitler.

Sociopath. You know who it is.

It’s like they’re jealous of our love for him.

I believe the universe knows how to balance out good from evil. All it needs is to be nudged in the right direction. 

There. See? There’s your villain.

All yours universe. 

Even things out.

“Rack jobbers rule!”

She gave

And gave

And gave

Until she had nothing left to give

Simone Gordon, is

The Rose🌹y Real. And you better believe her. She’s a great big deal. 

No?

Never performed the play ‘Really Rosie’ in elementary school? 

Suffragette City!

I started a new job. Been there a week now. I like it. My new workplace has already done more for me in one week than my last job did for me in the year and a half I loyally worked for them. That says everything. And now my last workplace has the audacity to ask me to fill out an exit survey. HA! Why did I leave your company, you ask? Well...

I was doing the work of five people, in an unsafe work environment where my life was at risk each night literally, my GM promised me a raise, then she cut that raise in half, and three months after she gave me the raise it never once found its way into my paychecks. “Corporate approved your raise it just hasn’t applied to your checks yet.” No shit. So. Like. Why the fuck not? 

My current boss is on the committee of directors for this district, which happens to be the art district, sooooooo hey hi have you seen my art? 😉 All my current bosses are big time influential people in Las Vegas. They’ve done so much for me in the last week...

I think it’s time to move into an artist studio. I big flat space. Wishes and dreams do come true! I’m 50 years old. I could literally die any day now. All reckonings that need occur for these past 12 months of bullshit will come to pass. 

Oh yes. They will come to pass. You bet your ass.

Leaf blowers. Why? What’s the point? They don’t pick up garbage. They just blow all the debris from one yard into another yard. Then their leaf blowers blow it right back. Geniuses.

“And I thought how lonely is this guy where even a thieving crow brightens his day.” — From the film LOVING VINCENT

A thieving crow

A stray cat 

A new job

A new place to live

A reckoning

I’m easy to please

Spread the word Banksy

We interrupt this ridiculous POS blog with the following message...

Poker

Poke 

He loves to poke tiny holes into everything. Her clothes. Her underwear. Her socks. Her plastic food containers. Her grocery bags. Her purses. He loves to ruin her pants along the inseam up to the crotch. He pees in a cup and throws the pee around her apartment. Because that’s what sane people do apparently. “Look at me, I’m crazy!” Ever study psychology? Poking holes is a sexual frustration. He can’t get what he wants, DENIED, REJECTED, therefor he must retaliate through acts of destruction and harassment, because in his mind bad attention is at the very least attention. It makes him feel strong, dominant. “Look at me, I’m a big boy!”

Weak minded men retaliate when they feel their manhood has been taken from them. Rather than accepting responsibility for his own failures, for his bad choices in life, rather than making effort to improve himself, rather than letting others live and let live, he retaliates because it’s easier to be mean and hateful than simply behaving like an adult. 

“Adulting is so hard!”

I once rented a place where the 85 year old landlord had Alzheimers. Only I didn’t know he had Alzheimers. I thought he was a sweet old man, but then he wasn’t. He’s probably dead now. Just as well. His children truly hated him, with good reason, especially the daughters if you believe their version of sexual abuse. His kids couldn’t wait for him to die to collect their inheritance. Be that, when he was alive, near the end of his life, he too could not get what he wanted, what he felt entitled to, and he too lashed out with abuse, destruction, harassment, like a 14 year old boy not in control of his emotions. 

Mental illness has become an epidemic in this country. I have a theory. Yes I do! I think what we call “mental illness” is actually, in most cases, a condition of the mind brought on by years of neglect, inactivity. Self made mental illness. It’s why men stalk, harass, destruct, abuse, it mimics Alzheimers, because it is in fact a deterioration of the mind, but not through illness, rather through laziness, through intentional lack of use. It’s easier to stalk women rather than read a book, or learn something new, or get a hobby he loves, or do anything positive that improves his own quality of life. Why build up his own life, when he can try tearing down hers instead. What a waste of energy.

Meh. Whatever. It’s just a theory. 

Some guy just called my profile a bot profile. I’m not interested in him. I must be a bot. He looks, and acts, like a guy who makes pipe bombs in his mother’s basement where he has lived for the past 45 years. That’s why I didn’t return any of his thirty emails. If a woman isn’t interested in a man then in his mind she must be a bot, a lesbian, or a whore because that apparently makes sense to intelligent reasonable people, like emailing someone thirty times without ever receiving a reply. “She didn’t respond to my first 29 emails. I better write her again.” Because that’s what reasonable people do.

What would I do without you, Aramis? 

Las Vegas, barren wasteland. Where married couples go to afford nice houses for their children, and where single people just go to die.

On that note

Support the arts! More importantly support my art! Patrons wanted @art_noir on Venmo.

Thank you in advance!

Occupational fag hag

I mean artist. 

Yet one more reason why I need a boyfriend, gay or straight. To tell me when my sunglasses are bent 😎 

Soooo are we trusting this lawyer advertised behind me? He seems totally legit.

Um. So. Why do you need tinted windows? 

“Because I’m a stalker... I mean murderer... er, rapist... no, I mean pedophile.”

Scary. If I had kids and saw this truck with tinted windows driving down my street I would immediately think this guy wants to rape my children. 

If you’re a remotely attractive single woman in Vegas, other women absolutely hate you for no other reason than because you’re attractive, like high school, and men act like they’ve never seen a woman before. Its amazing. And it never dawns on men that maybe if they improve themselves FIRST, work out, lose weight, GROOM, open a book, get a hobby, possess a general maturity level equal to their age, they could actually attract a woman who doesn’t look like Drew Carey, with six abandoned children in tow. I’m getting stalked today for sure.

I miss the eye candy of Los Angeles. There is ZERO man-candy in Vegas. At the north end casinos maybe. Most straight men in Vegas, over 50 years of age look like they just escaped prison or a mental institution. 

Two years later and I still don’t know where the gay community is. There is no West Hollywood in Vegas. I miss gay man-candy!  

I miss being the Grace to Will. I’m seriously going to cry. Only gay men buy new furniture every six months and give you the “old” furniture. Only gay men will pay you a year’s salary to house sit for three months and watch their puppy doodle cutie pies while they’re in Europe. Only gay men it seems will support my art habit.

And

I miss gay parties.

(Sigh)

I’m totally willing to find a straight boyfriend. I keep thinking he’s around somewhere. But. You know. I have standards. Like GROOMING. Until then can someone please direct me to the nearest Freddy Mercury, and our 10 adopted fur baby toe bean space aliens. Miso! Fur babies. Not human scream-o babies. Don’t get all crazy on me. Thanks in advance!

Just a man to dress me up, dress himself up, and prance around with. For starters. You don’t have to prance. It’s just more fun if you do. 

P.S. please support the arts, more specifically MY ART. Patron wanted @art_noir on Venmo. Give until it hurts, baby! With feeling!