Interlude: What’s on my computer right now
Current mood: still nauseous--quite nauseous, in fact

Right, so it's 3 am, and instead of sleeping, I'm typing on my old laptop that's falling apart, which by the way also came from The Professor, only six or seven years ago (and it was out of date then)--please don't confuse me with Andy Rooney, but I do think this planned obsolescence thing is getting out of hand.  Why am I not asleep?  Well, let me put it this way: don't go through most of your day not eating, and then think to yourself, hey, you know what would be good right now?  Some fruit.  Bad idea.

Anyhoo: I promise I will return to answering your burning questions (who knew you guys were so curious about the life of a mailman? oops, sorry, letter carrier) in my next entry (whenever I get around to it), but I figured that, since I'm awake at 3 a.m. on a Wednesday night/Thursday morning, you might wonder, well, what's he looking at on his crappy laptop with dial-up access?

Here's your answer to that question (which, okay, you didn't ask, but nevertheless):

Yahoo! is my home page because that's where I do the preponderance of my e-mail stuff, and now, sadly, is also where I get most of my news and information, since I don't watch television and don't listen to radio.  Since I've started taking the T on a daily basis, I've been picking up this free paper here called the Boston Metro, but (as is the case with me for most papers) I can't really read it because the editing and the journalism are so incredibly sloppy (don't even get me started on the Boston Globe, or as I call it, the "Glob"; I'll tell you more about the Herald later). I glance at the headlines and do the Sudoku puzzles and the crossword.  Yahoo is how I learned that George Carlin had died, a few days ago (and I was just listening to him! scroll down a couple of blog entries), and also how I discovered that global warming may lead to more terrorism.  Great.

(I know what you're thinking: if you, James Wu, are so Mr. High-&-Mighty that you can't even read your local newspaper, what the hell are you doing getting your information off the freakin' web?!?  In my defense, I confess that, again, I mostly skim.  It's hard, being someone who holds the English language in such high esteem.)

The second tab on my Mozilla Firefox browser is dedicated to my amazon page, so I can check on who's buying what from me.  Boring.

Earlier today, I was singing "She Came In Through The Bathroom Window" to myself: I've given up on the boombox in the mail truck and now mostly rely on my internal iPod.  Unfortunately, my internal iPod doesn't always give me the exact lyrics, so I had to look them up, and that's tab 3.  (I don't actually own an iPod, by the by.)

Tab four is the wikipedia entry on Michael Moorcock's most famous creation, Elric of Melniboné.  Yeah, I'm re-reading all six (canonical) books, as well as Alfred Bester's first two novels (well, his first two science fiction novels, to be exact), and also what's on the bottom of this entry (which I just finished, but I love the cover), and Sloane Crosley's I Was Told There'd Be Cake (cover not as cool).  But also, Rick Perlstein's Nixonland was so good that I'm re-reading it immediately: I do that whenever I read a book that's so utterly engrossing that I'm turning pages like mad; the last book I flipped over and re-read the instant I finished it was Vikram Chandra's Sacred Games (run right out and get that book right the hell now; you're welcome).  I think I own the other Elric books that Moorcock wrote after Stormbringer, but I have to look for them--what I'm using for this go-round is my two book club editions, each of which collects three of the novels.

"That's a hell of a lot of books, James--you're reading those all at the same time?"

Well, yeah.  Did I mention that I don't watch TV or listen to the radio?

"Or go out with girls?"

Shut up, wiseass--actually, I'm seeing a woman . . . later today.  Plus, yum yum yellow and I saw Kung-Fu Panda Sunday.  I confess: I enjoyed it.  Anyway, butt the hell out of my private life, jerk--that's not what I'm typing here.

Where was I . . . oh, yeah, tab number five: if I'm not thinking about Elvis Costello (who's sort of my default mental troubadour), then I'm thinking about Robyn Hitchcock (my other default mental troubadour), and since I recently sold a Robyn Hitchcock disc on amazon (see above), I was wondering if the alternate lyrics to "Driving Aloud (Radio Storm)" were on the internet.  Not only are they available, but so is a transcript of most of SPECTRE (which I'm not selling).  There's only one other musical artist I've seen more than Robyn Hitchcock live, and since you'll never guess who that is, I'll just tell you: it's Bruce Springsteen.  I know: surprised the hell out of me, too, but there you go.  Also: I've seen Hitchcock seven or eight times, but I've seen Springsteen almost twenty.  TWENTY.  TWO-ZERO.  Didn't expect that, did you?  Admit it.  (And no, Springsteen isn't a default mental troubadour for me, but if I am forced to give up most of my CD collection--oh, wait, I am being forced--well, at any rate, I'm never giving up Nebraska, which I consider one of the finest albums ever recorded.)  Incidentally, one of the times I saw Springsteen, I wasn't even expecting him: I was at some other gig back in Washington, DC, and then Bruce just popped up out of nowhere and played a whole set, which was sort of amazing.

While looking for the lyrics to the original version of "Driving Aloud," I stumbled across this little think piece from the Beeb.

Finally: I play the Kingdom of Loathing online.  A little obsessively, actually.  My character's name?  Archibald Leach.

Wow: now it's well after four in the morning--most of the clerks I work with are already starting their day back at the office.  Fortunately for me, though, it's my N/S, so I can go back to bed and sleep in, which I think I'm going to need, what with my wanting to clean the apartment and also seeing a friend who happens to be female later tonight (no, I'm not telling you who).

Currently reading : The Braindead Megaphone By George Saunders

7:00 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Answers to your many questions
Current mood: nauseated

I'm composing this on an Apple laptop, which means I can't do any fancy text things. So I'll do the question/answer format in a fairly irritating ALL CAPS/regular type style-ee. I apologize in advance.

HEY JAMES, I'M CONFUSED: YOU SAID YOU WERE GETTING YOUR DAYS OFF, BUT THEN YOU SAY YOU'RE STILL WORKING TOO MUCH. WHAT GIVES?

Right, I ought to clarify: it's summer, and even though the PO is desperately trying to cut down on overtime (and overhead), people senior to me are still taking lots of vacations, and I'm still fairly low on the totem pole. Perhaps not as low as I was two years ago (and yes, it's been two years, amazingly), but my U-man (just for starters) is still a lot senior to me, so when he takes off (like he did on Marathon Monday), I have to come in. Also, I get handed lots of overtime because, all in all, I'm cheaper than the regulars who are still here working and not on vacation themselves.

But then, for example, I was originally supposed to work today (my N/S), and then was told I shouldn't come in after all, since there are TEs (or "transitional employees," who used to be called "casuals") in other stations who can come in and do the work I would have done today. And they're even cheaper than me.

So here I am, typing. I'm glad for the break but I also could have used the money.

YEAH, SPEAKING OF MONEY, WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH YOU SELLING STUFF ON AMAZON?

Glad you asked: I'm trying to reduce my own personal overhead by getting rid of my stuff online--stuff I hope people will want to buy even in these economically straitened times (thanks, W.! [can we call him King George II?]). You can look me up: my seller name is "dilemmatree," which I think I already mentioned. I still have waaaaaaaay too much stuff in storage, which is costing me an arm, a leg, and probably most of my torso.

HOW 'BOUT THOSE CELTICS?!?

You know, when I first moved to Boston almost twenty years ago, I was a fairly anti-sports kind of guy. I'm sure you've heard all the arguments: professional sports is just a distraction from the real problems we have, blahblahblah. But when I broke up with the woman I moved here with and started dating again, I found that I was attracted, on a pretty regular basis, to Sports Gals. And I basically learned to like sports after that. I find I respond more to football in general, but I was happy for the Celtics last night (yes I watched the game), and I'm happy to be living in the Sports Capital of America. Oh, and as I think I've also already mentioned, I'm a fan of Bill Simmons on ESPN.com.

YOU STILL READING COMIC BOOKS, YOU DELINQUENT YOU?

Actually, today's Wednesday (new arrival day), and yes I bought my X & Y books today (the last Astounding X-Men collection by Joss Whedon, and the final volume of Y the Last Man). Yes, I worked in comics retail for a decade, and I thought I'd burned out, too, but . . . (cue Al Pacino imitation from The Godfather III about being pulled back in).

I find I'm buying far fewer "indie" comics mostly because they're too damned expensive. But I did buy, on a whim, something called "Ubu Bubu" today. BECAUSE IT'S CALLED "UBU BUBU." Also, it was kind of cute.

SPEAKING OF EXPENSIVE, HOW'S YOUR CAR?

Well, the starter gave out on me a little while ago, so I've been taking the T, which is what we call public transportation in Boston. It's annoying, but not as annoying as it was when I lived in Jamaica Plain, and it's one hell of a lot cheaper. Also, I got a parking space last month right next to the house (for only 15% of my monthly rent!), so now I don't have to worry about where I leave the car every night. Now, if only I could somehow install a dryer and a shower . . .

WHAT ABOUT YOUR PERSONAL LIFE?

That's personal. I think I'm about as forthcoming as I can be here without encroaching on other people's business.

HEY, WHY WON'T YOU "FRIEND" ME ON FACEBOOK??

My time on-line tends to be fairly limited. I more or less re-started my MySpace page because of Kurt, and then started "blogging" here because I was already here. I've pretty much abandoned Friendster, and Facebook seems to be for people who have one hell of a lot more time to surf the web than I do.

For this same reason, I tend not to read other people's blogs. Not being a snob or anything. Just no time. I actually haven't even read blogs by people I know and like--you know, "IRL," not just people I "friend" online. There's a guy who does a blog called "Geese Aplenty" (you can look it up), who's incredibly funny. I met him in graduate school. I'm embarrassed to admit I haven't read his blog in months and months. (I promise to correct this character flaw at the earliest opportunity.)

Which reminds me: I saw the latest issue of The Atlantic about how Google and the internet are making us stupider. I humbly disagree: perhaps the internet is making a certain select few with limited attention spans stupider, but I find I can still read War & Peace just fine, thanks. Actually, I've found that the internet helps me to solve questions raised by my readings, rather than supplanting the habit altogether. (This seems to be the thesis of the Atlantic article; I'd give you a link, but did I mention I'm on an Apple?)

Right: there are a few more questions I'd like to answer, but it'll have to wait until next time, as I'm composing this in an ice-cream joint, and my battery's running low.

Ciao for now!

Currently watching : Rescue Me - The Complete Fourth Season Release date: 2008-06-03

10:41 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Coasting
Current mood: betrayed

So, as I mentioned last time, I'm trying to drive slower to conserve gas, because I'm driving a colossal SU . . . truck, with extremely poor gas mileage, and now I'm paying close to sixty bucks to fill the damned tank.  (I would heed the advice currently making the e-mail rounds about filling up when the tank's only half empty, but I've been quite broke lately--living from paycheck to paycheck ain't easy.)  I try to leave earlier for work so that I don't feel panicked by the inevitable Boston traffic.  I try not to gun the motor to make the light.  I've actually been doing this for a little while, and I've noticed that it does now take longer for my tank to empty than it did when I first got the car.  So that's something, I suppose.

Also, I've been doing the same postal truck route now for a year and a half, or close to, and it's gotten much, much easier--as one would hope, given that it's essentially doing the same thing over and over and over.

But I've noticed that most of the people I work with tend to use their familiarity with their routes to speed through what they're paid to do so that they can goof off for the rest of the time.  Which makes a certain amount of sense--actually, I was talking earlier today with one of the few guys who don't speed through their day every day (the man who trained me, actually), and he is just in pain for most of the time.  Granted, he also confessed that he's not exercising properly or eating well either--but then, who does really?  And as I've undoubtedly mentioned a few times, delivering the mail is really strenuous physical work.

But I also think there's a certain dignity and honor to maintain--I'm probably in a minority here--especially now that mail volume is declining and competition from other delivery services is increasing.  For example, I pretty much deliver packages every day to some of the poorest sections of this city, and I try to ensure that those parcels get into their waiting hands, instead of just ringing or knocking once or twice and then scuttling off after leaving a hastily scrawled, barely legible note (a tactic employed to ensure that carriers have more time to goof off).  I find this reprehensible, particularly in light of the fact that these people who are waiting for these packages can barely afford the places they're living in, and some of these parcels represent clothes, or other goods, that they can't afford to buy from regular stores.  Many packages are sent from China, or the former Soviet Union, or Puerto Rico, and they represent gifts these people are expecting.  The other day, while doing a piece of another route, I discovered a package left by a co-worker that not only required a signature, but was left in the wrong building.  Of course I delivered it to the right person in the right building, but I don't think I can ever speak to the jerk responsible for this idiocy ever again.  Unless, you know, I decide I want to punch his lights out.

We're paid a fairly decent wage, given what we have to do, and we're assigned with relatively simple tasks--what's wrong with trying to do what you're paid to do every now and then?

Sorry for the rant.

In other news, my "reading, viewing, listening" addendum seems to have reappeared, so I'm cheating a little because I literally bought this book today, but I have every intention of starting it once I finish this entry.  I actually bought three other books: Michael Chabon's Maps & Legends (with an essay about Howard Chaykin's American Flagg!, for God's sake!), Joseph O'Neill's Netherland (which got a great review in this week's New Yorker; James Wood has yet to steer me wrong), and Rick Perlstein's Nixonland: The Rise of a President and the Fracturing of America.  If you had told me before today that I would be buying books--serious history books--with "Nixon" and "Reagan" in their titles, on the very same day, I would have looked at you askance.  And yet, here I am.  From that same issue of the New Yorker, here's George Packer, the man who made me buy these books.  Which is why I live from paycheck to paycheck.

One last thing: while on the subject of The New Yorker magazine, I have to mention last week's article on food, which is making me think hard about what I buy to eat, what I eat, and whether maybe I should try to make serious changes there.

Currently reading : The Age of Reagan: A History, 1974-2008 By Sean Wilentz Release date: 2008-05-06

5:59 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

A few weeks ago/days ago/last night

So, a few weeks ago, I was carrying a piece of somebody else's route in the office, and this included a stop at a small daycare center.  I walked in, holding the center's mail, and one of the teachers saw me and asked the children, "Hey, who's that fellow walking in with our mail?"

"Yes, kids," I said, playing along, gesturing at my uniform and holding up the mail, "who am I?"

And one of the kids shouted, "GRANDMA!!"

Now, I know they're just kids, but really--grandma?!?  I was a bit hurt, and before I could think about what I was saying, I retorted sarcastically, "That's right, kids, I'm Grandma, and I've brought cookies."

HUGE MISTAKE, because as anyone who's ever spoken to a small child knows, tots do not understand sarcasm.  Not even a little bit.

"COOKIES!!  COOKIES!!"  I left the teachers laughing, shrugging, and mildly despondent.


A few days ago, while eating, I bit the inside of my cheek rather hard.  Quite bleedingly painfully hard, actually.  Have you ever done that?  I hope not, but if you have, then you know that it really really sucks.  But it did help to remind me to take my vitamins and rinse with Listerine every so often.  (Aside: I know, the current thinking is that Listerine is bad for you because it washes away the good bacteria with the bad, but you know, I'd rather have that than bad breath, particularly since I deal with the public on a daily basis.)  Today's actually the first full day that I haven't felt like running into traffic to end my pain.  I might even sleep six or seven hours straight tonight instead of waking up every twenty minutes or so wishing I was dead.


Last night I joined the throngs and saw the new Iron Man movie, and I have to say, I really really liked it--actually, I'd add that I liked it more than I thought I would, and I had surprisingly high expectations (to my chagrin--but hey, it all worked out).  I did wait until Sunday though since I work all the damn time now, and also I wanted to go with my best friend here in Boston, and his schedule is a bit tight also what with his being a professor (it's grading time!) and being a father to a rather rambunctious almost-three-year-old.

Time was I'd see these things opening night, making sure to be in the biggest theater with the largest screen, full digital Dolby blahblahblah, but . . .  those times are over now.

I should also mention that, at least in my office, they're cutting back on overtime a lot, and I do mean a lot, so now I have my N/S days just like everyone else, which means that I have to make a small correction to what I said about them a few posts back: the full rotation is in fact six weeks long, but the week still starts on Saturday, which means (for those of you who actually are paying attention and/or care) that the Friday/Saturday/Sunday weekend is followed by a six-days-in-a-row workweek (none of which is overtime), followed by a Sunday/Monday weekend, and then back to bouncing day-off purgatory.  If you want to know where I am in the scheme of things: I actually was scheduled to have this past Boston Marathon off (April 21), but my U-man cunningly scheduled his vacation for that week, and no one else wanted my route that day (my route is directly affected by the Marathon), so I had to work it, which kind of sucked--but not nearly as badly as I thought it would suck.  My next N/S is the day after tomorrow.

I bring this up now because my next N/S three-day weekend coincides with the opening of that new Indiana Jones movie.  I'm thinking matinee.  My best friend, the professor (whom I will from now on just call The Professor, you know, like in Gilligan's Island), has already expressed his desire not to see this on the big screen (almost-three-year-old plus grading equals choosing films with care), so it'll probably just be me.  The guy I saw the first Indiana Jones film with (and we saw Raiders nearly every day that entire summer) now lives in Arizona with his wife and teenage daughter.

Oh, and my high school wants me to attend my 25th reunion this fall.  Like I'd go.

(Currently listening to a number of things, mostly old, like George Carlin CDs from right around the time he became extraordinarily angry [roughly ten to fifteen years ago], and some downtempo compilations to help me drive slower and conserve gas, but I've bought a few new things, like the new Portishead and the latest from Gnarls Barkley--I just haven't actually opened them yet.  I do like the new Moby though, which I've only spun once, but fully intend to spin a few more times in the near future.)

6:08 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Tin Hat

I would like to take this brief opportunity to recommend that everyone reading this go out and get the new Tin Hat CD, "The Sad Machinery of Spring."  You will never listen to "Daisy" the same way again.  (Although Stanley Kubrick's 2001 accomplished more or less the same thing, this is different, in a good way.  Trust me.)

I would have put it in my "currently listening" thingie at the bottom of this entry, only that seems to have been disabled.  You go away for a couple of months . . .

9:17 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

He thought he was the King of America
Current mood: achy

I know, it's been a while, and a lot has happened--and yet, while every day is different, every day is the same.  I work, and I work, and I work.

However, probably the two main things I ought to mention here are: my brother's birthday was this past Wednesday, when John Edwards (my guy) announced he was dropping out of the race; and I started selling more stuff on amazon.com again, after a hiatus of several months.  Oh, and I was horrifically, terrifyingly, tragically sick MLK weekend.  Forty-four hours in a row in bed sick.  And I visited my old bookstore, the New England Mobile Book Fair, too!

So yeah: I had every intention of voting for John Edwards this coming Super Tuesday here in Massachusetts, not because I like him that much but because I like to think I'm practical about these things, and as "historic" as either Obama or Hillary would be as the standard bearer, I'm not sure either can defeat whoever the Republicans field (McCain, most likely, I'm guessing).  Now I'm kind of stuck.  I suppose that between the two, I would rather Obama, but that's with a hell of a lot more reservations than I had about Haircut Boy.  (Speaking of which, I really need to shave my head soon, perhaps this Super Bowl Sunday, as I'm beginning to resemble Heat Miser--no doubt because I tried to change the part in my hair at the age of thirty-seven, and then started shaving my head regularly until three months ago, when winter started.  Now I think my hair is just mostly confused.)  Obama recently said he'd be able to take on McCain and win.  I have my doubts.  Let's not even talk about Hillary, because that just makes me nauseous.  Then of course, what if Obama actually gains the White House?  Ted Rall is a lot more succinct about this than me, plus Rall and I both like X-Ray Spex.  A lot.  (I talked with him about this once, though I doubt he'd remember me.)  I tend to trust people who listen to X-Ray Spex.  Although now that I'm typing this, I suppose it's not entirely outside the realm of possibility that Obama likes X-Ray Spex--hell, his favorite characater on The Wire is Omar, so anything's possible.  Fine: I'm holding my breath and voting for Obama.  There.  Happy now?  "That's not an endorsement.  He's not my favorite person, but he's a fascinating character."

I call my amazon store "dilemmatree" because that's one of the mistaken origins for the band name Del Amitri--and I guess you could say it's my favorite, because there it is.  But I also know that no one really cares what I call my storefront--just that my books, CDs, and DVDs are cheap and that I ship them fast.  They are, and I do.  Did I mention recently that I work for the post office?

I was starting to feel a bit run down on the evening of January the 16th (which is actually the birthday of another very close friend of mine), and then I couldn't work the full day the next day, Thursday--in fact, I couldn't even drive, I walked (in a limping sort of way) and then took the T home from my station without going back downtown to retrieve my car (a good thing, since I would have had to move it that whole time) and slept for the better part of two days.  I'm pretty sure I ran a very high fever somewhere in there as well.  But I'm better now, thanks.  Actually, I managed to enjoy MLK Day off--which I was originally scheduled to work.

I worked for the Book Fair for the better part of two years, and was let go only because my commitments to the post office sort of took over my life and made it virtually impossible for me to work there any day except Sunday (and as it turned out, I wouldn't even have managed that this past December).  That made me pretty much useless as far as retail goes, but I still ended up helping customers for much of the time I was visiting--it's a very confusing place.  But I made a lot of great friends there, and I do miss being surrounded by books--well, surrounded by books that are in better order and easier to get to than mine.

And oh yeah, the Super Bowl is in a couple of days--very exciting.  (If you're ever wondering how old I am, I'm always the same age as the Super Bowl--there, now you know.)  Can the Patriots cap their undefeated season with that ultimate win?  We already have the 2007 World Series Champion Boston Red Sox, although the Celtics are dropping a few now.  In related news, I'm going to have difficulty finding somewhere to put my car this weekend, as apparently the Boston City POH-leece are essentially making it illegal to leave your car anywhere in Boston for the Big Game.  I swear, I have never hated law enforcement officials more than I do these Beantown idiots.  Every day, driving the truck for the USPS as I do, I see at least one horrific violation made by a city cop: running a light with the lights & siren on only to turn them off once he's through; barrelling right on red without even slowing down, let alone actually stopping; brazenly ogling women; on and on and on.  Aren't these cops embarrassed to call themselves cops?  I'm sure I'm painting with too broad a brush, and that there are plenty of great Boston cops here--I just never see them.

Oh, and: I didn't get my birthday off--I had a little breakdown that day, in fact, when I got my truck stuck in ice while trying to do my relays, and most of the guys on my route ended up having to help me push the thing out of the rut.  Christmas was just one day off for me, then back to work, work, work . . .

Wow--can I ramble or what?

I was a fine idea at the time--now I'm a brilliant mistake.

Currently listening : Girls Girls Girls By Elvis Costello Release date: 20 August, 1996

6:42 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Slave to the post office!
Current mood: cold

I've been fond of saying that I haven't had a day off so far this month, but in point of fact, I have worked every single day since November 26th--I mean, this is getting ridiculous.  I'm working tomorrow (Sunday) again--the second time in a row--and I'm working Monday, which is my "N/S" day.  That's twenty-two days (more than three weeks!) in a row.  I mean, I did say I could use the overtime, but I could also stand to do some laundry, which is that much more time consuming without a dryer.  Also, a friend I haven't seen in a while called to invite me to a party this evening, but I just couldn't do it, even though I wanted to, because I'm just too damned tired and having difficulty breathing (plus, I was hungry).  And he just had a new baby and everything!  I felt bad about not going, but I knew that if I had gone, I'd regret it tomorrow.

So: I asked for this coming Tuesday off.  Not annual leave, not a sick day--just a break from working every single day.  It also happens to be my birthday, and no I won't turn a hundred, though it feels that way (I just did that as a joke, but I still think it's funny, so it's staying).  No, I was born in 1965--you do the math.

Not sure I'll get the day off though--so my saison d'enfer continues.  (Even if I do get it off, I'm spending my birthday doing laundry and maybe unpacking a few boxes--fun!)

Happy holidays, and I don't care what the internerds tell you about tipping your letter carrier, just know this: your delivery person remembers everything, especially this time of year.  That's all I hear about in the office ("well, they want me to forward their mail, but they're non-tippers, so I think I'll forget to do that"--and hey, you don't have to remind me that they earn a decent salary, I'm just telling you what they say in the office).  And I don't get tips because I only deliver your packages, not your letters.  If I get anything, it's from what the letter carriers decide to give me for bringing their relays to them in the course of the year.

Actually: my role in the office really sucks because I have the worst of both worlds: I have to wait for people in the freezing cold to receive their packages, especially when they have to sign for them; I have to wait to collect the mail from the blue boxes after (sometimes well after, if the packages make me run late, as they often do now) the stated collection times on the boxes, usually five pm; I have to bring relays--the sacks of sorted mail--to the letter carriers in a very timely fashion or else they whine about me being late (which would mean they might have to stay out until, oh, whenever they're actually supposed to be out there, instead of being done by noon); and nobody tips me because I'm just the driver.

Yes, I'm working ten hour days seven days a week, so I should be making pretty good money--but I have no time to myself, I have no life, . . . whine bitch moan complain ad nauseam.  And it's not like I'm sitting in a cubicle, with regular access to a bathroom, thinking or writing or grading: I'm driving, lifting, stomping through snow, walking . . .  it's a physical job, and mail is heavy.  And boy, are my hours long.

At the very least: could you please curb your dogs?  I'm not asking for much here.  Seriously.  Just pick that shit up.  We have to step into your homes sometimes, you know--you don't want us tracking that in, I don't think.  Even if it's frozen.

Currently listening : Eddi Reader By Eddi Reader Release date: 13 September, 1994

6:31 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Miniature disasters, minor catastrophes
Current mood: sick

In my last blog post, I casually mentioned how idiotic people drive when it rains.  The very next morning, while driving my little mail truck to the station from the garage, I get into an accident.  The roads were slick, and a total jerk tried to cut me off while going around 350 mph.  Naturally, I hit the brakes, but I slid on the wet concrete (I was already accelerating because I was going up a ramp), and I slammed the truck into a guard rail.  Yes, I was wearing my seat belt so I was not hurt (nor did I go flying through that gigantic windshield into the trees below the ramp).  No, I did not hit any other cars or pedestrians, just the guard rail (I split the bumper and apparently damaged the frame).

This was, of course, my fault.

So tomorrow, extraordinarily early (let's say pre-dawn), I have to report to driver's ed. downtown, and then I'll be re-tested on the road, and then I guess I'll get my postal driver's license back.  It was pulled just before Thanksgiving, and believe it or not, I was actually scheduled to work that day, doing the express mail.  So in a way, it was sort of a good thing, because I actually got to enjoy my Thanksgiving with my best friend and his little family.  Only, did I mention how broke I am?  I think I have.  Overtime sure helps when you're broke like me.

I spent nothing and went nowhere this past weekend, the official opening of the holiday buying season--I actually try to avoid stores during that time in general, despite some of the amazing sales I heard about.  Broke, broke, broke.  Plus, this morning, I discovered my car had a flat tire--time to renew my AAA membership!  So there went the money I was trying to save for the first of the month (did I mention that this move I recently made essentially raised my rent by over 50%?).

Also, the Harvard radio station I spoke of in my prior post apparently broadcasts every single game every Harvard team plays.  I forgot to mention that rather crucial fact.  Even though I'm already on record here as tracking professional football and baseball from time to time, I'm not that big of a sports fanatic that I have to know the ins and outs of every sports team Harvard University fields--and we're talking lacrosse, badminton, water polo--you name it.  So that's another serious drawback to that station.  Otherwise, hey, check out their streaming audio.

Well, I ought to hit the hay here, kids--it's going to be a super early day tomorrow for me, and I can no longer get by on three hours of sleep a night the way I used to for, oh, the last twenty-seven or so years prior to my becoming a postal worker (mail is heavy, especially now that it's catalog season, plus the mailboxes in Boston weren't in the main designed for the catalogs of the 21st century, so the work is quite physically draining, and the hours are loooooooong, but say it with me: "I'm getting paid to work out, I'm getting paid to work out . . . ").

Currently listening : What Is Love For By Justin Currie Release date: 23 October, 2007

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WHRB.org, 95.3 FM from Cambridge, etc.
Current mood: crappy

I said a while ago in this blog that Boston radio was not an option.  But I discovered a few weeks back, not long after obtaining my . . . vehicle, that Harvard (of all places) has a half-decent radio station, which is the title of this entry.  It's mostly jazz and classical, with the occasional noise fest.  Unfortunately, the various DJs who staff this joint are not exactly the most, er, well-spoken lot (how hard is it to read off a piece of paper, for God's sake?), so I usually have to tune them out.  Otherwise, it's actually quite a good fit for me.  Most every program is on when I'm actually in the mood for that particular genre, so.  I recommend checking out their streaming audio.

I am cooking again, after a long time away from the stove--made chili tonight, so I can eat food other than Subway for the next few days.

I finished S1 of The Wire, and I have to say, in a lot of ways, the show improves with repeated viewings.  Just the amount of set-up in the first episode alone--knowing everything that happens later on, it's amazing how much of that is just in that one episode.  And the acting!  Oh, the acting--I love every single joker in the deck, especially Sonja Sohn, who plays Kima Griggs--I could look at her all day.  And the montages at the end of each season, well: that's how you do fucking montages, I swear to God.  "Where don't you want to go?"

I'm still really really really broke.  Why do I have so much crap and no money?  I am retarded, yo.

My cell phone is on the blink, but I haven't had time to get it checked out, because did I mention I am working quite a bit? So if you've tried to call me and I haven't picked up, I swear, it's not me, it's my phone.

What is it about a little rain that makes people drive like idiots?

Okay, I left this too late, as usual, and I have to go, but I'll holla back atchall y'all laters.  Word.  Mos' def'.

Currently reading : Bridge of Sighs By Richard Russo Release date: 25 September, 2007

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Life in the big city
Current mood: rushed

I don't have a dryer at the new place.  It's sort of annoying.  But not as annoying as the fact that I don't have a shower, either.  There's supposedly a shower coming at some point (when is rather unclear--I had thought it would be installed prior to my moving in), but for now, I'm having to squat in a clawfoot tub and . . . well, that's probably more than enough information for you, isn't it?  I have one of those snaky showerhead things, but that's it.

I also don't have anywhere to park my new (old) enormous vehicle, so I have to leave it in the next town over and walk home, as I will do this evening.  I did buy groceries though, so maybe I should drive them over, drop them off, and then try to find a parking spot.  Hey, it's a holiday weekend evening!  Should be easy.

I'm a whining little bitch, aren't I?

In other news, I've changed my photos around a little.  See, I don't always walk around in a postal uniform.  Just . . . well, most of the time.  Actually, I'm still in uniform as I type this.  Probably should go home & change.

Last note: I'm actually listening to the Tarantino soundtracks as I altered them for cassettes, back when I still recorded cassettes--for example, you know all those Steven Wright breaks on the Reservoir Dogs soundtrack, where he names other songs like "The World Is A Ghetto" by War, and "Doesn't Somebody Want to Be Wanted" by The Partridge Family?  Well, I actually put those in, in sequence.  I am not only a whining bitch, I am also a colossal nerd.

Aren't you glad you're reading this?

Currently listening : Reservoir Dogs & Pulp Fiction: Soundtracks From The Quentin Tarantino Films By Various Artists Release date: 22 November, 1994

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The Wire (it’s all connected)
Current mood: sleepy

So, I'm all moved, but not all moved in--that might take a while, given all the stress I'm under at work (which I can't really talk about here without getting into trouble, and I need the employment, so).  And once again, this holiday weekend, I will be working not only Saturday (tomorrow), but Sunday and Monday (Veterans' Day) as well--again, I can certainly use the ducats, but oh man, the time and the energy . . .

But I wanted to mention that I'm now relaxing at home by watching The Wire again, from the beginning, on DVD, using my ten-year-old computer that my best buddy N. Kang made for me, back when you needed--well, I needed--someone to assemble the things for you (this is arguably no longer the case).  No, I haven't hooked up the television set and the DVD player yet--the whole living room thing is going to need a serious rethink.  Did I mention there's a fireplace?  And a piano?

Back to The Wire: a few weeks back in The New Yorker (my one true addiction), there was an excellent profile of David Simon, the creator of The Wire, which led me to this current rewatching project of mine.  I have a very good friend who has a television viewing philosophy which I greatly admire (even though I don't actually adhere to it myself): he never watches any show that features doctors, lawyers, or cops.  However, calling The Wire a cop show is like calling Delicatessen a movie about cannibalism.  A better analogy is: if Homicide (Simon's prior Baltimore cop show) was Dubliners, then The Wire is his Ulysses.  (The Corner would then be his Portrait of the Artist.)

I love this damned show, and I am keenly anticipating both the fourth season on DVD (just a couple more weeks!), and seriously considering hooking this place up with cable and HBO so I can watch the fifth and final season while it's airing (for a change).

In other news, today was the birthday of a good friend of mine who doesn't have a MySpace page, but that's okay.  Probably won't read this here, but Happy Birthday anyway.

And finally--um, Rihanna actually asked to be my friend here on MySpace--or, people who work Rihanna's MySpace page saw my profile and thought it would be okay for me to be her virtual friend.  Either way, I am flattered--oddly enough, I only recently broke down and bought her latest CD even though that "Umbrella" song is fairly omnipresent, and I tend to avoid purchasing omnipresent music because, well, what's the point?  But I do like Rihanna--again, let me remind you all that I'm a heterosexual male.

Really ought to go to bed now.

Currently listening : Loneliest in the Morning By Julie Doiron Release date: 26 August, 1997

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Moving!!
Current mood: stressed

I'm moving.

I'm being forced to move, actually--but the thing is, now that I'm being forced, I'm realizing just how miserable I've been in the place I've been living for the last five years.  And now I'm thinking, why the hell did I want to stay?!

In short order: I got a car, I got evicted, I found a new place to live, and . . .

Well, there's possibly other really big news on the horizon, but I don't want to jinx anything by talking about it here before it's . . . oh, I don't know, really.

I did get kicked out of the Suicide Football Pool this past weekend.  I'd been doing so well, until I found myself second-guessing my original choice of the Ravens over the Rams--so I picked the Cardinals over the Panthers.  In hindsight, of course, what the hell was I thinking?!  But honestly, I had Testaverde down as a curse of sorts . . .

(For those of you reading this who were previously unaware of the fact that I followed football to this extent, I would like to extend my heartfelt apologies.  It never occurred to me that I would be one of those guys myself, but I'd like to remind you that I've been working for the post office for over a year now.  The wonder is that I follow sports as little as I do, given that I live in Boston, where we have the Red Sox, the Patriots, and now, heaven forfend, the Celtics . . . )

Currently listening : I Still Have a Pony By Steven Wright Release date: 25 September, 2007

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"Musical" trucks
Current mood: drained

I meant to post this last month, so I'm back-dating this entry.

Since I last wrote here, I've actually been "bumped" from my route quite often, which means that I haven't really been bringing my tape deck boom box with me as often as I'd like.

Also, the fleet's been switched around, so now I'm driving a CRV instead of an LLV--which is bad in my case, as it holds even less than before, and I seem to be taking out a lot more lately, it being fall and everything.

But the big news is: my boss gave me his car.  My last car died almost a year ago, and my boss (one of the nicest guys on earth, obviously) was originally going to sell me his car, only then the new car he was going to get fell through.  And then almost a year goes by, he finally gets a new car, and he gives me his old one!  Amazing.  And just in time (see the next post).

It's a 1994 Ford Explorer.  Now, obviously, I would never in a million years buy such a thing for myself--but free?  Well, it's hard to pass up.  However . . .

Currently listening : From Here We Go Sublime By The Field Release date: 05 April, 2007

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More on the postal work week
Current mood: crushed

Since you asked:

Mail is delivered six days a week (Sundays are for express mail, which was what I was doing last Sunday), but the regulation work week is five days.  Also, mail volume varies from day to day, but there are generally days everyone knows are bad (Mondays, Thursdays, and lately, Saturdays, as magazines seem to have shifted their delivery dates of late).  So, in order for there to be some sort of fairness to the scheme, the regular letter carrier has a different day off every week in addition to Sunday.  (I'm not a regular letter carrier yet--I'm a PTF, or "part time flexible," meaning I work whenever, mostly every single day).

So: one week your letter carrier will have Sunday and Monday off, the next Sunday and Tuesday, then Sunday and Wednesday, und so weiter.  The kicker is that the rotation is only five weeks long and not six, which means that the carrier who gets Friday off also gets Saturday off (since the cycle starts on Saturday), so your carrier gets a three-day weekend once every five weeks.

And of course, this is rotated in groups, or else everyone would be off on the same days in the same office, which obviously wouldn't work.

There's more that I'm not going into, but that's the gist of it.  Now, aren't you glad you asked?

Currently listening : World Clique By Deee-Lite Release date: 07 August, 1990

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Suddenly, unexpectedly
Current mood: disappointed

I have a day off today.  "What?!"  But you see, I've been working non-stop since August 6th.  That's right, even on Sunday, I was working (and Sunday was a hard day, let me tell you).  Then, last night, I was forced to bring my truck into the shop, because it was overheating (CHECK ENGINE).  I didn't really think it would be a good idea to drive my "Long Life Vehicle" into the ground.

This morning, when I went in, the truck was of course not ready ("Are you kidding? That thing is a mess!!")--but then, when I called in to the station to ask what to do, they realized that my working today would put them waaaay over budget.  I've already worked a six-day week including Sunday (our work week starts on Saturday, for reasons too complicated for me to explain here), so ta-daah: the day off.

But I hadn't planned on it.

So now, I'm at the internet cafe (my only reliable access at this point, at least until I manage to save for a new laptop or something).  I've decided to try to catch that Edward Hopper exhibit at the MFA, since it closes Sunday.  (I remember when it opened, I thought "Hell yeah!" and then . . . it's closing Sunday?!?)  It's a tad expensive, but what the hell.  I'm worth it.  Aren't I?

Oh, and I'm lugging around a bit of a summer head cold, as if my life weren't filled with enough tension and heartache.  Speaking of which, I'm also finishing my umpteenth reading of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man--you know, I can't begin to tell you how much I love that novel.  To my mind, it's second only to Melville's Moby Dick in the pantheon of Great American Novels.  Gravity's Rainbow is third--a close third, but third.

Finally: like most regular guys, I'm a huge fan of Bill Simmons.  Ironically, I don't even like sports that much--I just like Simmons' writing style.  But here in my tiny little MySpace blog, while on the subject of Great American Novels, I'd just like to interject that, while Bill holds that The Natural is one of the greatest sports movies of all time . . . well, I can't join him in that, because to me, the film ruined one of the most perfect endings in all of American literature, which I used to be able to type from memory--at least, until my old age set in, and now I can barely type, let alone type passages from novels from memory.  But my point is: I can still remember seeing the film at a preview at the University of Maryland, not knowing that it would be "Hollywood"-ized, and at the moment when Redford actually hits the ball, and it goes through the lights, and the music swells, and Glenn Close is caught in her vaseline close-up: that's the moment I shot up out of my seat and yelled NNNNOOOOOOOOOO at the top of my lungs (if you were there, yeah that was me--forgive me).  They might as well have made a film of Moby Dick where Ahab caught the whale and they had a huge hip-hop party on the boat afterwards, to my mind.  That's why I'll never see The Natural ever again, and why I'll always have a little bit of hate in my heart for Barry Levinson and Robert Redford, despite everything else they've done that's been great since then.  Yes, even after Levinson was responsible for Homicide: Life on the Streets, which begat the greatest television show ever made: The Wire.  Even so.

Currently listening : Up to Our Hips By The Charlatans Release date: 22 March, 1994

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