Scorpio 25° (November 17)

 

Back to yesterday: Well the train to New York was fine but upon arrival I can once again say I fucking hate it here. I don’t even lament “my New York” and the rest of the lamenteers who still live here and make art about how it isn’t the same should fucking leave just as I have. Taxi ride from hell and then we get to our hotel where we are paying full price for a suite and we are told “heads up” there is a wedding party in the next suite and they may be loud later. I was like well heads up we will be complaining then if there is noise that wakes us up. Which inspired the desk guy (manager?) who I’ve met before and me no like to cop an attitude. I quickly pointed out we have had problems in the past because they are always so understaffed so that when there is noise problem they don’t even have an extra person to come upstairs to check on the noise let alone fix it. And get this he says: Yeah we still have an understaffing problem so….So? So okay you pay the seven hundred dollars it costs to be here then you fucking moron. I’m so pissed right now I could spit. Then on top of it I’m made to feel that this is my fault. You know what fuck everyone. I’m sick to death of this shit. I suppose it’s okay to tell someone that is just checking in that there going to have a lousy night of no sleep and there will be nobody at the desk to help them out. Just checked out Yelp and this place gets totally trashed. Okay I got that all out of my system—shwoooooo—and now I can go on with some happy thoughts and plans. I only need to be bitter long enought o get this out of my system. Not that the crappy hotel manager was ever contrite. He is a dick and that is the long and short of it.

So I went downstairs for a cocktail once S. headed to her hair appointment. And I ate a ton of olives. Then I headed over to meet her for dinner at Hearth which was incredibly overrated and overpriced. It really is too bad. I mean it’s one thing that in this new gilded age things that used to be easy breezy and rather on the cheap, like grabbing a bite in the East Village, has turned into twenty-six dollar orders of meat balls, but it’s quite another that there is even less effort put into it. Back in the day you would show up at some restaurant and even if it was cheap and cheerful the hostess, say, would have a look and a healthy, reassuringly cool attitude. She wouldn’t be wearing a fleece pullover unironically as if she were working some NYU cafeteria. I find myself not even wanting to tip anymore just becuase nothing matches the prices and the service places has gotten, worse and worse, lazier and lazier. One morning here at the Marlton I had to ask three different servers for a side of honey. And everyone just seems to take it for granted they are going to receive big gratuities on their crappy service. Sorry but no. Anyway still on evening one: We had a little bit of friction at dinner because what happened but a run in with he whom I’ve offered referred to as the devin incarnate because he hasn’t not been. In full disclosure I reached out to him last to wish him well and get any suck karma, good or bad, off my side of the street. His response was “thanks for the sentiment” adding S. on the email in an effort, what?, to rat me out for writing him? Whatever queen.

So soon after sitting down to dinner S. tells me that she was walking past his shop(s) and looked in the window and there he was doing his usual futzing thing. Their eyes locked and he beckoned her in and, well, honestly I didn’t really pay much attention to her telling me what exctly transired except for the fact that he hugged her (twice) and I think she said he asked about me or something to that effect. I mean if he’s not schizophrenic I can tell you that the situation absolutely is. And all I’m left wonering is: would he have acted that way toward me if I had similarly been passing and took a glance into his fussy little window. Eek gads. Even if he was being nice and actually loving in the situation he still creates this dynamic of division in a sense. Just one more way he proves that he’s a psycho. If he would have hugged me the same and been all lovey dovey then why doesn’t he just write me a note saying he wants things to be kosher between us (because he doesn’t); yet he knows that S. will report back to me how he treated her; so, in effect, he wants me to know that he feels one way toward her but another toward me. And thus he wished to cause even further pain. And why? Because he is an asshole that’s why. Anyway, honestly, if the situation was reverse I would have given him the giner and walked on. But S. being the nice person that she is allowed herself to be drawn in; and she doesn’t think people are as evil as they are so she doesn’t realize that she was part of his manipulation. Which pissed me off even more.

We went to see David Mills after dinner as he was performing at Pangea. The show was just good but it isn’t one I would necessarily put on because it is a bit too understated, probably, for the festival. I really am loking for a little bit of pizzazz, actually. I ended up knocking a candle over and the wax went flying and ended up staining some of the nicer clothing items we were wearing which reallly is quite a bummer to be honest. The walk home was a bit brisk but it was pretty okay. There is just something depressing about being here I can’t quite put my finger on. I meanit’s very glomy and very dirty but not in a lovely old-school kind of way. It’s more or less just a dump at this point and the streets are filled with banks and drugstores and things that used to be there, scaffolding surrounding every other building, no glowy or even vaguely sparkly feel that one used to encounter strolling from block to block. It just seems deptressed on an irrevocable level. Like something that won’t really come back. Looking out from our hotel suite at what are some of the most expensive buildings on Lower Fifth, it looks like the windows, some of them filled with books and some with air conditioners left, carelessly, in place all winter long, year on year, are all about to just fall out like rotted teeth. They look as unhappy as their inhabitants.

 

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol will be one degree higher than the one listed for today. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365 or 6 days per year—so they near but not exactly correlate.

 

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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