"So then he grabs all of it in a bundle and throws it at me! I think he called me a dirty whore. Then he separated every bill and stuck them to my body. After he puts the last one across my mouth he looks at me and goes, 'I told you it would be yours.'" As the client watched, Olivia peeled off the bills and put them in a plastic bag. When she got home she let the money soak in the kitchen sink overnight, blow-dried it, and used it to pay her landlady. "I couldn't keep a straight face," she recalls. But didn't she find the experience upsetting? "You know, it was degrading, for sure. But so was cold-calling," she says, referring to a job she briefly held as a fundraiser for a local political advocacy group.
ZING! At least the advocacy group had the decency to cut you a jizz-less check? I dunno, this reads a little too much like creative writing...is it even trying to pass as journalism in the first place?
These are shot by the same guy. I encountered these weeks apart on different sites and could see the similarities. There are crumbs of queasy nostalgia sprinkled over both of these, which make me feel a little uneasy but the subjects' passion for their life's work, along with the crushing reality of consequence, anchor each piece beautifully.
I love the first piece because it is a little more balanced, but there is a nice bit of foreshadowing and reveal in the second piece (I thought he was just being a badass).
In my last apartment in Brooklyn, we found out we could play our instruments at a reasonable level without anyone ever complaining. I think it was either a.) we were never really that loud and didn't have a drum set or b.) it was a building full of college kids and they were never home, or they were playing something just as loud or louder.
In the apartment before the last, we couldn't turn on our little practice amps without having the downstairs coming up and giving us a hard time. But we'd hear their shitty music or loud tv seep through our floors all the time- they even told us to turn down our radio one New Years Eve. I think maybe they were racists, or fascists, or they just thought we sounded really really bad, or all of the above.
Anyway, here's to apartment rock- "you're not hardcore until you've lived hardcore."
Currently Listening Neptune By The Duke Spirit My Sunken Treasure see related
