I just came home…I didn’t kiss my cat, I didn’t eat…I had a really bad day at work…and I opened my mail box and beside my junk mail….a letter from my mother…that was too much for just a day….but if you don’t understand what I’m trying to said…do as I’m doing right now, eating ice cream and writing at the same time…as Jack the Ripper said “let’s go by parts”.
Last week was record store day, that means, you go to buy some vinyls (LP or acetate Long Plays), those big flat blakc circles with lines line channels on it. Those LP’s that the 80’s generation enjoyed that much. I had a couple when I was a kid but at the same time the tapes showed up and was its death sentence. I had like 2 or 3, my brother had tons. Now in 2013 I went to do some shopping. As the marketing in this country works “marketing: the art of selling things you don’t need with the money you don’t have” I bought some. The thing is not buying things I didn’t need but who was my accomplices in this adventure. I met Jeff when the little restaurant Mitla opened. I wrote about it. It was the first time I gave my Facebook to somebody just met. He was super nice, very sensitive with a hard life. That was like 3 months ago. I never thought we could meet again despite I wrote him some lines. Then he finally set up a meeting at the Bagel Shop. He explained me that shop before was a charismatic church, then we were there, worshiping bagels. I asked for a Lamberjack breakfast…huge, extra pancakes and 3 bottles of juices…he was really hungry at 10 am. He is tall, probably 1.80mt and of course, over weighted. We were talking about music, old records, 80’s and parties, parties and more gay parties.Then, the other Jeff arrived. This Jeff is Mitla’s friend owner, and he is a cheff in a downtown restaurant. With them, I went to records stores at Hintonburg in Ottawa. Being with them, making jokes, walking together and talking was just amazing, it reminded me my old days in Peru with my male (effeminate) friends. It was like transportation to the 80’s 90’s. I didn’t feel freak at all, in fact, I felt totally normal because I love music, the only material/non material thing I love the most (well, I love bags too). But anyways, let’s face it, it’s 2013, MP3 killed the tapes and cd’s, and, in 2013, me, shopping vinyls? Do I need vinyls…of course not. Do I have a turntable? Defentibly not…so, why the hell I bought Pet Shop Boys and The Beatles? By the way, the LP’s were “Actually” and “St Peppers” in that order.Jeff pushed to by a 45 of David Bowie but I had to turned down. For those antiquities I paid like 30$. Jeff spent 72$. Why did I do that? I don’t know, was it fun? Yes, but I always wanted to buy that Pet Shop Boys album as a decoration for my future house…assuming one day I’ll be able to buy one….
Last Sunday I had my second girls night out (me, the camouflage dyke). In fact it was more like afternoon. When the boss told me I had to move to another section to do the most boring thing on earth, database, I went to see my friend Suzanne, leader of the girls night out committee. She encouraged me to go and then she dropped the bomb. She is getting divorce of his husband. That afternoon we went out with her second hand car. We went to a little restaurant and then more news were announced.(Intermezzo Ice cream) Suzanne said her husband cheated on her time ago and she forgave him because she took seriously (too much) married. I was staring at her as she had an infectious disease “how could you that?”. And then Fatima said…”when you announce to your husband you’re leaving him be with your father or brother” She added “remember what happened to your cousin”. Of course, at this point, I was eating my French fries totally clueless. Anne, added “my cousin was murdered when she announced she was getting divorced 3 years ago and another cousin too, like 5 years ago”. (more ice cream). I stopped eating the fries and I started inquiring Anne about it….one was shot and the other literally chopped off. Suzanne’s husband goes hunting, he has guns…and I don’t know why but when she told me days before she was getting divorced I got scared for her. We supported her and we told her to call us anytime if she needed help for the moving or other things. She’ll move in July, Denis, her husband doesn’t know about it (ice cream break). The girls decided to watch a movie. In the commercial cinemas the options are brainless and quasi insulting to my intelligence. The only thing appealed to me was a funny title “My awkward sexual life” or something like that. Fatima and Suzanne decided for “The Host”. So boring, what a valium, 2 hours with that predictable plot and end. Then I went home…thinking…Geeezz “but they already read the book was based on….” Not happy with that Suzanne, who appears to like me a lot gave a Bollywood DVD to watch….(more ice cream). What have I done in my past life to be punished in this way, eh?
And today….today….I should I took a plane to go Abu Dhabi. I worked in another group in a different location. I received an email from the boss asking me about 3 invoices I processed, each of 15,000$. I said “I left it on Cindy’s desk but that day she was sick”. He asked me again about the docs and I wrote “I swear I put the documents on Cindy’s desk”. Since I cannot release payments just posting them, Cindy can do the release and final verification (ice cream break). Again, he said to find out about the purchasing orders. I was…”what? what are you talking about?” I said I didn’t have much experience about it and I asked for help to find the supporting documents of those payments. He asked me to find duplicates for those invoices….how? I was totally petrified (ice cream). I sent an email to the responsible for those purchases and she didn’t want to help me, so I asked help to the boss because at this moment I wasn’t sure what my name was. Cindy helped me with some duplicates and information. We made a duplicate of 2 invoices but 1 is still missing and I guess I have to face that tomorrow. The boss said “I’m not blaming you those things happen”. It that would have happened at Price Water House I should have beheaded and thrown my body parts at the crows.
When the day was almost over, I saw the big boss, I wanted to complain, to be aggressive about my situation, to kill verbally to my boss about this unfair decision to be changed to another group…and I couldn’t, I just tried to change the topic saying I’d like to do more payments and experience (ice cream on my table). She told me not to be discourage, that this will help me in my career…blah blah blah…she seemed sincere and she added that I won’t be there for so long, she said to continue my studies and blah blah blah…I reminded her my contract will finish next March and I needed experience knowing more cuts will be applied to my office, more people will be fired…and bye bye money for buying useless things like vinyls. She said “don’t get discouraged”, she said that like 3 times…but I decided I don’t want to be with that group, if there is an opportunity I’ll take in another place.
Just when I arrived home, dreaming of my Vanilla ice cream, I opened the mail box…a letter from Peru. Tiny little letters were written on the envelope…it was my mother…I haven’t spoke to her in years, I always destroy her letters and I keep the stamps but I collect them. She wrote something like “I love you, I will never forget you while I’m alive, you’ll always on my mind, I will always cry you for being so far, I look for you when I walk down the streets” She said “you’re my thoughts and my suffering”….she wrote I was her princess (I’m really dyke and nobody notices…I feel like a loser) and she hoped the birds sing for me because of my birthday.
This year, I read that letter, usually I put it directly on the recycling bin…this time I read it more than twice…and still that sensation of “I love you but under my conditions”, that “I love you, I want you for me” the toxicity was still there…I don’t hate her but if I were there I know how our dynamic will be…and I feel safe been far away from her. Again, I got nobody to talk about this…it’s better that way I guess, I cannot concentrate, I feel like a pitbull on a cage, I want to talk but I feel speechless. I want to breath through my nostrils and I’m dreaming of vodka. That game, I want you closer, I want you to love me this way, I want you forget all the past, that past that push me to repeat our relationship with my own ex girlfriend…
Not a good day for talking but writing, not a good day for reading but eating ice cream, probably a perfect day for alcohol.