mondojohnson

Depressingly resonant post on GAWKER: “New York Will Now Send You Home”. But I thought New York was my home… I don’t know who I am anymore…:crazy:…

Waiting to see if I made the short list for a kickass job. Hoping for the best, planning for the worst.

I am still in Los Angeles, and may never leave. I theatrically opted out of the holidays this year, the climate here makes it easy.

After nearly two months of dickering, [FORMER EMPLOYER REDACTED] finally released my final paycheck.  Of course, two-thirds of it was devoured immediately by red ink (i.e. the overdraft built up by excessive bank fees).  But at least I have a tiny pittance to keep me supplied with cigarettes and Mac n’ Cheese for a few days… which ought to make the impending eviction and trip to debtor’s prison slightly more palatable…..

Someone PLEASE give me a GODDAMN JOB…..

I am entering the phase in which the bite of unemployment becomes sharp and deep. Funding for the next meal and pack of cigarettes — much less, the rent — is an open and troubling question, for instance. I am certain that the devils at [my former employer -- REDACTED] owe me a final paycheck, one that is sorely overdue. It appears that I won’t receive it without a fight, a daunting proposition when one is under the heavy thumb of depression. I can barely leave the house, so the prospect of girding for battle with anally litigious, corporate dickheads is one I face with slow-moving anxiety.

As in most major life crises, a Simpsons quote succinctly encapsulates my plea: “WILL DROP PANTS FOR FOOD!”

Send info regarding job offers and your checks and money orders to chris -at- mondojohnson.com