Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts

Sunday, August 5, 2012

HELP WANTED

VOICE ACTORS NEEDED

Otis and I have been kicking around a couple of ideas for a while. Recent free time and moments of panic have convinced us to go ahead full throttle on our animation project "Life of a Quarter Rat."  We want everything to be lined up when the light turns green. We are going to need professional voice actors. Looking for those with comedic abilities, improvisational skills and multiple voices.


PAID

It's in the budget. None of this Craiglist bullshit where some one wants you to give your talent and labor on their project with only a vague promise a full time gig. This animation project was first conceived and started back in 2005, it's not just something flung together based on an bar room idea.


Quarter Rat Animation needs talented, funny and versatile local actors to get paid for one possibly two days in the studio. This is our pilot episode. Professionals who will be there when expected or better have very good reasons if they aren't. Not looking for cartoon voices, but animated. If you know the differance contact us. No more than 5 or 6 actors will be needed, fewer if we find the right people.  Pay bumps for the ability to do multiple voices.

If interested contact us at the above E-mail address, and we'll send you some character monologues to audition with. Or just send your own audition track (MP3 or something easily opened) with what you can do, resume, and do we really have to say this? No head shots.


Thursday, July 26, 2012

What I learned today

Otis,

Ya asked me how it was going test driving animation software. I figured out this much today. This sh#t is easier than it looks. I want to see and play with some more software before deciding on which one to use.


I got to get me some sleep, after I finish my last energy drink. Let me know what ya think.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Issue #28 - it's so great!

Issue #28 will be out this weekend, grab one tightly in your hand and squeeze all of the juicy humor out of it. 

Seriously, we believe that it's one of our best ones yet. This issue is going back to our smaller pocket guide sizes. Less likely to be dropped while bar hopping and we were able to double the circulation quantity giving the advertisers more bang for the buck. Between it be the slow summer season and a miserably piss poor economy, many businesses that we approached told us "We just can't do an ad this month." We understand, my landlady is trying to understand. Being sort of out of work myself, I was able to devote a lot more time to this issue. I have always been flattered when readers / fans would approach me and say how they wished the Quarter Rat had more of my artwork in it, this month you got your wish.



Some of our advertisers have asked us to make the Quarter Rat Magazine  a little more "tourist friendly" That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? We tried to on this issue (wink).  I am currently available for custom artwork and ad layout work. We've noticed that some of you advertise in the more mainstream competing publications, we're cool with it. Ya know, you don't HAVE to use their artists. Just sayin. I am also available for t-shirt designs, web graphics, chalk board menus, house painting, dog walking.........



Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Karma Inside Out


Every now and then I'll check up on the status of a film that I worked background in. I have yet to see one in the theater, or even rent one. I'll just wait long enough and it will find it's way on line. This one I think went directly to DVD, and YouTUBE. "Killing Karma" was one of the first ones that I worked on when I started to find work as a background actor. It was released as "Inside Out." I didn't even know who Paul "Triple H" Levesque was. Never heard of him, never saw him wrestle. The first time I crossed paths with him on the set was at the "Honey Pot" that's the name for the small trailer with the bathrooms that they have on set. I walked up the small set of steps, tried the door it was occupied. As I stepped back to wait my turn the door opened and Tripple H was exiting.  I don't think I was successful with muting my "Holy Shit!" looking up as this massive human stood on the steps in front of me after squeezing out of the tiny trailer door.

The station wagon is still my favorite star of this film. I stumbled upon this YOUTUBE version of the entire film. It has some sort of Arabic subtitles. I was surprised that it held my attention past my scene and I enjoyed it. Great to see Bruce Dern can still play a bad ass even at his age. "My scene" is about 0:57 minutes into it. Look for a balding guy in shades sitting outside a bar sipping a beer. to the far right of the screen. The director didn't have to tell us to act with the explosion, we just had to re-act. There were no flames or fireballs when we shot it. The fire was added later with CGI. However, the building was set up by the special effects team with huge compressed air cannons filled with large pieces of balsa wood, cork and cardboard. The break away "Sugar Glass" windows and balsa wood frames disintegrated at the moment the air cannons were triggered.  A large noisy explosion of air and fluff debris shot across the street. It was easy to re-act to it. 





Saturday, June 2, 2012

barge rats



Usually when I correspond with someone up North, I always ask "How's the weather up there?" just so I can rub it in. It's the asshole in me.  I found myself asking an Alaskan Quarter Rat fan "How's the radiation up there?" That's the friend in me when someone I know may be hit with isotopes. Dumb Japs. If anyone should be the most careful it's them. Perhaps if you put as much effort into nuclear safety as you do bad animation and pervy porn, you wouldn't be living in a microwave oven right now. At lest Russians had someplace to move the population to. You guys are shit out of luck.



The Alaskan Barge Trash are good friends with the Quarter Rat, we are honored. A tug boat crew working Valdez Harbor spend the long sadistic winters passing around DVDs of Treme, listening to WWOZ on the internet and reading The Quarter Rat. Next year they want Fat Tuesday off. My friend Jeff said it's the only Mardi Gras themed tug working up there. See? They get it. 

I tried to figure out the connection between a tug crew working in Valdez with those working in the French Quarter,  I can't figure it out. Other than  those up on Valdez have as much respect for big oil companies as we do. Think about it. These guys live fairly exciting lives on some of the roughest waters in the world and they spend their down time listening to our music and reading the adventures of bartenders and strippers on Bourbon Street.

Thanks guys, we'll send ya some beads for those railings.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Pipes

My friend Jeff does some work for my landlady.  We have a couple of dancers who live upstairs. Jeff asked if I would come up to the fourth floor and help find the dancers drip, he needed me to hold the flashlight. "Hell yea man, let me grab my coffee...."  Oh. Plumbing.  Of course I had to be a smart ass as soon I walked in. "I found your plumbing problem right here, you have a big brass pipe in the middle of the living room."

It is of course an old building. I think I saw a plaque on the neighbor's building that it was built in 1794 or something.  It's amazing what you'll read when you're taking a piss on a wall.  Very high maintenance structures here in the Quarter, lots of unpleasant surprises for property owners.   Say what you want about dancers, they do get the best service. I knew a dancer once, I swear Domino's delivered in 12 minutes. I was always afraid to eat the pie, she was a creep magnet.


(BTW,  the answer was twice on the pipes.)

Thursday, March 29, 2012

It's been a while

Dawna downstairs at Glass Magick brought to my attention that I haven't blogged in a while. I can't say that nothing is new, this is the French Quarter. On second thought, this is the Quarter, nothing here is new.  Since I moved to the French Quarter last summer, I've fallen into a very pleasant routine. I can't remember life in the stale suburbs of New Jersey or I blocked it from my memory like some sort of childhood trauma involving a creepy scoutmaster.  Occasionally I do get out of the Quarter for a painting job as I have been for a couple of weeks working with my friend Cornell on an apartment building in Harrahan.

Early morning walks up Bourbon Street to meet Cornell on Canal Street in front of the recently renovated JOY Theater to pick me up. I make it a point to say "Good Morning" to the statue of  Ignatius J. ReillyBourbon Street at 7:00 am is busy with Quarter Rats cleaning up from the previous night's battle and rearming itself for the next night. Dozens of beer and liquor trucks with two men each delivering fresh ammo. Produce and food service trucks making deliveries as the morning crews hose off the icy slick brick sidewalks. The well worn bricks offer as much traction as packed snow when they get wet.  If that doesn't present enough of a challenge to pedestrians, every step is aimed to avoid  stepping in a crater of missing water meter covers or paving bricks. There are at least five potential personal injury lawsuits per block. Either the city doesn't care or never pays claims.




Early one morning about 4:30 am I was up and out of smokes. Like most people awake at that hour my main concern was feeding my addiction. At four in the morning however there would be people outside willing to kill to support their given habit.  I strolled down Bourbon to find a place open with nicotine as barbacks dragged dozens of bottle clattering garbage cans out to the curb.  Large rodents scurried about grabbing up dropped pizza crusts and chicken bones.  I watched my back for any thug that might dart out from the shadows of a doorway to clock me in the head with a beer bottle with one hand as his other hand went for my wallet.  I also had to watch my step as I navigated around numerous puddles of vomit.  I looked down at a bright pink rice filled pile of vomit and commented to myself "Someone had Gumbo and Hurricanes last night."

Across Bourbon Street a van was parked with it's doors open and a thick hose led into a darkened strip club as the inside of the van whined with noise. Upholstery cleaner. He might be there for the rugs, but the odds are that right now at 4:30 am some poor guy was cleaning dried semen stains off of a red velor couch in the VIP room. Mike Rowe from the television show "Dirty Jobs" wouldn't last a day here.





Friday, February 24, 2012

Throw me some asprin mister!

Well, it's over.  I got to experience Mardi Gras at ground zero. I worked as a doorman at Molly's, tossed beads from a balcony, drank a little too much and got a lap dance from a 70 year old woman.  I really didn't take in any parades to speak of, a little too chilly out for me. Besides it's a crowd thing that I can't cope with.


Fats Domino - Mardi Gras To New Orleans
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Most of my friends in the Quarter had to work through out the past week. Otis would finish his graveyard shift at 6 am and take his 2 year old daughter out to parades during the day.  Most of the Quarter Rats I spoke to said that this was one of the slowest carnival seasons that they could remember. All said they made much better money on New Years Eve.


Things were so slow this year, when you threw beads, women only flashed one boob.














The streets were still packed with revelers in costumes.  I wandered down Royal Street for my daily exercise. Ok, for smokes and energy drinks. I loved the costumes. This city always has a surreal atmosphere, but during this season costumes seem the norm. Simple errands become adventures. 









This guy in the Dallas cheerleader costume I saw all weekend long when I worked at Molly's. He always made me chuckle, more than the midget in a Superman costume being pushed around in a shopping cart.  When this guy walked by the balcony on Fat Tuesday I had to ask him to stop for a photo.



In another two months the FEMA float will be here.













What? Do you mean that you don't pass couples like this on the way to the supermarket in your town? I guess living here takes some of the magic out of it for me. When I first got down here I had roomamtes who spoke of this as some sort of religious / magical event. Perhaps they over sold it, To be honest, I think it's over rated and the city places too much of it's identity in the event.  I understand it's business, the tourist buck pumping up our economy before the slump of summer.

The real magic of the French Quarter is here year round. There is so much that this city can boast about besides being a Mecca for the annual pilgrimage of alcoholics.  Mardi Gras does bring this city closer together. When Ash Wednesday finally gets here, front end loaders are used to scoop up tons upon tons of garbage, fire trucks are used to hose the vomit from the streets and sidewalks. Everyone sighs collectively.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

I got one complaint....

I have been praising New Orleans ever since I set foot down here. The culture, the music and the people. Let me get this off my chest,  what's with the frickin attitude like the State of Louisiana owes you? Every time I turn around someone is trying to figure out a new way to scam the state, city or a corporation out of money. A couple of days ago I mentioned to someone that money was tight and I had to go food shopping. "Don't you have a food stamp card?" they asked. "No, I earn too much." "Does your boss pay you with a check or cash?" "Not that it's any of your business, but cash." DUUUUUUUH! Lie on the application." That exemplifies the mentality down here.

Not too long ago I was standing in line at a check out behind a young guy who had an armful of candy and soda. The clerk rings up about $9 worth of crap, he whips out his Louisiana Purchase card to pay for the Twizzlers. I know we have the technology with bar codes to limit what can be purchased by a card. Make it so recipients can buy potatoes, not potato chips, no frozen pizza, no t-bone steaks. Rice, beans, vegetables and milk, that's it. You want to buy $10 worth of Fritoes, get a goddamn job. I have a two jobs and can't be wasting my money on $9 worth of candy. 

I heard a bit of an uproar over the suggestion of making welfare recipients take drug tests in order to be eligible for any state assistance. "Oh! That's unconstitutional, that's discriminatory, that's invasion of privacy..." Wait, some folks have to pass drug tests in order to WORK for a PAYCHECK, but it's not fair that you have to pass one in order to be GIVEN money? Don't get me wrong, I am an advocate for the legalization of some recreational drugs, but only if you WORK for your dope.  Some people believe they are entitled to sit at home and get high, while the taxpayers foot the bill? What are you? High? Don't answer that...

I knew a local and he called himself a "filmmaker" even though he couldn't direct a funeral down a one way street. He was convinced that he could finagle a few million out of the state for an idea he had. Why? The state had money, he didn't, he was entitled to it. "Do you have a script?" "No, but I have an idea for one. Actually, it's an idea based on a film I saw a few months ago. Styles, I need you to re-write that script to that film so I can submit it as mine for funding..."  So, you have no creativity of your own and lack the ambition to even steal an idea? But you're entitled to millions from the state film board? Sure, I'll get on that right away for you pal.




My friend Robert and I are both from New Jersey, we thought the attitude up there was bad. We joke that at least up in Jersey if you were lazy and didn't want to work while the state paid you, you went out and got a union job like everyone else.









Thursday, January 5, 2012

Hey God....

Hey God, if I haven't thanked you in a while, let me touch base with you. For the past couple of days I have woken up in a warm bed. I've walked to a job that I actually can tolerate and most of the time enjoy. Spent the day working with people I like and enjoy being around while listening to people that you blessed with the gift of music. I return home to warmth and fill my stomach. For the past two nights I have spent my time with brilliant creative company at my elbow. Folks that I consider myself fortunate to call friends.  



Tomorrow, I hope to rise to the challenges that you set before me, I doubt you will give me anymore than I can handle. Look after those I love. Help me to treat others as I would want to be treated. Thanks, you've been good to me.

Friday, December 30, 2011

Dumb shit tourists say....

Quarter Rats are stuck in a dysfunctional relationship. They have to put up with abuse and bullshit to survive. We in the Quarter must tolerate and amuse the ten million or so tourists every year. Tourists are the life giving blood to the French Quarter, and also the most intolerable part of living here.  It doesn't take long of living in the Quarter before you stop seeing them, or even noticing their presence. Like not seeing the flies when you work in a barn until you find one swimming in your cup of coffee.


The other day while walking to work along my usual route of Royal Street on a beautiful morning, one scolded me. I was looking down at my cell phone to see if my employer had called yet to ask where in the hell am I with the keys to the apartment that we were painting, when I heard a shrill annoying voice bark in exasperation "That idiot in the white ruined my shot." Hm, what a coincidence, I'm wearing white I thought.  I half turned to my left to see some chubby housewife from the midwest holding a camera in one hand and a Bloody Mary in the other giving me the stink eye while facing a building that I just walked by.  Fuck you bitch, people live here I mumbled.

Once while having a smoke break on a bench in front of the Upper Pontalba, a tourist stopped, pointed a camera directly at me and snapped a photo. They then walked away without so much as a thank you. How rude I thought. What if I hung out in the parking lot of where you worked and snapped your picture as you were getting out of your car to go inside to work. You probably would find it a little creepy and tell me to go fuck myself.


Today Jackson Square was mobbed. As I tried to carry buckets of paint and ladders from one apartment to another, I had to walk at a snail's pace behind thick packs of tourists. Groups that all of a sudden stop dead in front of you, or park in front of a window blathering about how expensive everything is. Forcing everyone else to walk an additional ten feet around them, only to be obstructed by someone's brat chasing pigeons with a balloon animal.  Daily.  You deal with it, it's part of life here.

On the corner of St Peter and Chartres I passed a loud group of four discussing lunch plans. I couldn't help but to over hear yet another irritating woman with a drink in her hand and a voice that caused dogs to bark. "WHAT do the locals eat?" she loudly questioned. I wanted to retort "Hot dogs and Ramen noodles." I know I would have been met with the look that I have witnessed tens of thousands of times in my life, people sneering at me like I AM the idiot because they failed to grasp my humor. I shuddered at her voice and continued on my way fantasizing about smacking her in the face with  a paint brush still wet with the color "Urban Putty."



 WHERE do the locals eat? would have been a more appropriate question. If the four of you hadn't seemed like total dickwads, I might have taken the time to point you towards a few places where you would have found great food at very reasonable prices by the French Quarter standard. Real Cajun food prepared by real Cajuns while sitting next to locals who might have bought you drinks if they liked you. I kept quiet, I wouldn't do that to my neighbors. You probably would have responded "Coop's Place? I neva heard of it! Where's Bubba Gumps?"  Go. That's all you deserve anyway.



Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Right place, right time...

One of my Mother's favorite expressions was "Always a day late and a dollar short." Perhaps I am the one to finally break that family curse by moving here to New Orleans.  I feel like a child who has traveled across the country to find his birth mother, a feeling of being where I belong. For those of you who follow my blog postings (at least 4 or 5 of you) you know for almost two years now I have been boasting, raving and romantically drooling about this city like some sort of travel agent trying to meet a quota. Well, it looks like I am not the only one to do so.

Market Watch with the Wall Street Journal has placed NOLA in the top third. Once ranking very low on their business friendly survey, now it's considered one of the best.  When I first moved down here in March of 2010, the only day labor that I could immediately find was back breaking digging in the hard clay soil of St Bernard Parish. (March 2010) I was hired to work on a strip mall that was finally being renovated after being damaged by Hurricane Katrina. As I took a smoke break in the back of the building looking at a large boat resting on it's side in a vacant lot, I pondered the irony.

Five years earlier New Orleans would have been the last place I or anyone else looking to improve one's opportunities would have dreamed of moving to.  My economic position back in New Jersey was one of erosion, every year earning less and paying more.  Fewer opportunities, more competition for what little was available. Now down here, I have to ask for time off from my day job as a house painter to tend to my part time job as a graphic artist while turning down a few freelance gigs just for the lack of time. 


I remember watching the news during and after the storm, feeling the way rest of our nation did. Hearts heavy with sadness, grief and compassion for what many may have silently considered a lost American city.  Now six years later, many major American cities may be looking down here with envy. A strong economy, lower than national average unemployment and an increasing personal income growth for it's residents. It's the people, strong and resilient, determined to not only just to bounce back but surpass any expectations of them. Perhaps that's why I find New Orleans so inspiring.



A Facebook friend posted the article from the Wall Street Journal's web site with the photo of the Pontalba Apartments accompanying the article. I immediately exclaimed "That's where I work!" And it's where I belong, thank you New Orleans.

(BTW, I didn't even see a New Jersey city mentioned on the top 100 list)

Friday, December 9, 2011

Some more pics

Here are some more photos from some work that I did at the Pontalba. I spent way too much time on this medallion on the ceiling in the living room. More than one usually does on a rental property, but I enjoyed it.

We were the painting crew that started painting the medallion the wall color, property management liked it and decided all of the rooms should have that. Now they insist the other crews do it too. So of course I have to one up them with this. By the end of the day my neck was killing me and my vision blurry from drops of oil paint. I felt like Michelangelo. 

Thursday, December 8, 2011

A change of pace

 I have been writing about working at the Pontalba on Jackson Square for a while now. I'll admit that I needed a change. This week I am working as a house painter out in the Marigny on a house on North Rampart. A little bit more of a walk in the morning, about 20 minutes instead of 3 minutes to the Square. I love the walk and change of scenery. Some really beautiful homes on North Rampart and in the Marigny. What has made it really fun is that I am working with my buddy Cornell. I first met Cornell over on Jefferson Davis Parkway when I lived there a few months ago. A fellow house painter who lived upstairs from me, it was impossible not to like him.


A native of New Orleans, he is what you would expect from the best of the Crescent City, positive, hard working and fun. We struck it off immediately sitting on a stoop over looking JD parkway, talking about house painting and making each other laugh. After I introduced him to my employer Robert who might need extra help painting, I asked Robert "Did you like Cornell?" "How could you not?" he replied with a grin. Cornell is one of the few people I envy, he can approach almost anyone and win them over with a simple comment.





Cornell got me some work with another painting crew when I needed it earlier this year, so I was happy to bring him in on our crew when we needed reliable help with experience. One trouble Robert keeps running into down here is he will hire someone to do a job, and they never show up.  We brought in one laborer who showed up to work, asked me where the bathroom was and never returned. I think he used the job as an excuse to have someone drop him off in the Quarter to go score some rock.  Cornell thanked me for the work coming his way, I told him "I only got you the first days work, any after that you got on your own." Robert wouldn't have had him back if the man didn't do a good job.


When we left the job site, we faced a long walk down Rampart back to the Quarter. Cornell was catching a bus back to Mid City. We decided that a pint bottle of Gin might take the chill out of the walk, It did. A fun walk, great conversation and we had the bottle killed by the time we hit Armstrong Park. I vaguely remember my walk down Toulouse, and I am blaming all Facebook postings that night on Hackers. Working with Cornell is a lot of fun.





Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Down in the Marigny...

My coworker Cornell and I knocked out three rooms today of a cottage in the Marigny, and during our smoke breaks on the front stoop we watched the shooting of TREME across the street on Elysian Fields. I thought about my friend Janet in Allentown Pa. who is a fan of the show. She would probably think it was awesome to watch the filming of the HBO show. After a while down here having worked in the industry and seeing film crews busy everyday, a production across the street is just like seeing a Lucky Dog cart. You don't even notice them anymore.



Robert is going after acting roles like a  Pitbull after bacon. I stopped doing the "acting" thing just because it's not my goal in life. I think for all involved, it's best I remain behind the camera. However Robert sent me a casting notice for a 50 something, balding "creepy cashier." He thinks I'm a shoe in. I might audition.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

A peek inside

I recently brought some friends up to tour the unit at the Pontalba Apartments that Robert and I have been working on for a number of weeks now. When the guests entered the first word was "WOW." One visitor said she couldn't believe that such large luxurious apartments were available in the French Quarter. Two large bedrooms with original marble fireplaces, open up to a third floor balcony overlooking the very center of Jackson Square. The statue is directly in front of this center unit. Out of the half dozen or so remodelings that we have done, this one by far has the nicest view of the Square and St Louis Cathedral.

Not to come across as some sort of real estate broker, but this place is beautiful. Wood floors, twelve foot high ceilings with plaster medallions crowning the center.  Ten foot high doors open up into each room, as well as each closet.  The windows to the balcony have folding pocket shutters that still function despite the many layers of paint over the years. The ten foot high window can be closed off if you are shy about getting dressed in front of General Jackson. Everything about the apartment is grand.



Out of all of the units we had worked on, this particular one has needed the most attention. A portion of the plaster ceiling in the living room was in the process of collapse, as well as a lot of surface plaster work needed on the walls. Apparently the previous tenets had lived there for many years and were "hoarders." Having some personal experience with hoarders, I can tell you that by their very nature they are secretive and isolated. Most compulsive disorders can somewhat be hidden from the world. Not so with hoarding. Consequently, when routine repairs or maintenance was needed to the unit, property management was never notified in order to keep the clutter a secret.

I can't imagine being a pack rat while living in a third floor apartment. The tenets had installed multiple shelving units through out the apartment. The first couple days of prep work involved just removing the shelves and repairing the walls from the brackets holding them up. 

If you were a property owner in suburbia who tried to maintain a presentable home, having a hoarder next door with a yard filled with debris would be at best a nuisance. You might think that hoarding in an apartment setting it wouldn't affect the neighbors, but it can.  I have spent the better part of six months in this building and the only signs of rodent or insect infestation has been in this unit. The pest problem has been taken care of. One of the hazards of compulsive hoarding is that it provides a perfect enviroment for pests. Ample hiding spots and often ample food supplies.

The property management people discouraged me from posting "before photos" of this unit, I guess they didn't want the photos to be taken out of context and give the wrong impression of the building over all. Everyone involved with the Pontalba takes a great deal of pride in the preservation of the building, it's not just real estate, it's history.



I'll be posting more photos of the apartment as each room becomes completed.



Tuesday, November 29, 2011

I guess I'm just gettin old....

Today was pay day, two weeks worth. I went right over to pay pay my rent and set aside some for the rest of my immediate bills. Tonight I looked at the rest of my cash with eager anticipation of my big plans for the night, grocery shopping.  I have been planning my trip to Rouses for a week. My front door is fifty feet from Bourbon Street, years ago that would have been the direction to go on pay day. In 2011 it has no appeal to me except for the occasional walk for amusement.

I read  posts from Facebook friends 30 years younger than me of their plans for every night of the week. "Going here, meeting so and so, drinking this or that." God bless you, be careful, and get it out of your system now. I'm sure if they saw my life, I would seem like a boring old fart. I am and proud of it. People my age behaving like twenty somethings are sad and pathetic. I have been living in the French Quarter for a little more than four months, might have gotten drunk  less than a half a dozen times. Can't do it any more. You'll see, I hope.

I chuckled at myself getting ready to go make groceries. Showered, groomed and actually put thought into what to wear. You would have thought that I had a date with Trixi Minx or something. Every purchase was thought out for maximum nutrition for my dollar, no splurges, no treats. This time last year I was so broke that I came down with the scurvy. I know, who gets the scurvy in the 21st century anymore? I had been getting food stamps but 3/4 of my Louisiana Purchase Card each month went towards paying my rent. Fifty dollars a month left for hot dogs and potatoes.

After a diet like that for three months I noticed all I wanted to do was stay in bed, and when I tried to get up every joint in my body ached, my teeth wiggled and I saw a zombie with blotches in the mirror. So tonight going grocery shopping was like a night on the town. No snacks or frozen pizzas, straight to the produce section. Yea, on pay day I lust for cauliflower.  Someone recently said that I should reapply for food stamps, I responded "If I have the money for coffee and cigarettes every day then I can afford to buy my own food. Governor Jindal doesn't owe me a damn thing." In fact, I feel I owe the state and look forward to paying it back someday.


I toyed with the idea of crossing the street to join my friend Otis for a beer at Molly's. I have a full belly, a full day of work behind me, and another full day ahead of me tomorrow so I'll just go to bed. You young kids, go to Bourbon Street and have fun. Spend so much of your money now that someday you'll look back on it and cringe.  If in thirty years you're still doing it, stop and reconsider. You might be surprised at the joy of a simple night out grocery shopping.

God bless you, be careful.



Thursday, November 17, 2011

My lip is bleeding....

I didn't want to get too political with this blog, to be honest I am trying to work on some business deals with lefties and don't want to blow it. However if these morons have their way, there won't be any economy left for me to get rich off of. I have been biting my lip on the Wall street protesters for so long that I have a hole in it.  Believe it or not, when I was in my early twenties I probably would have gone along with this idiots. Of course when I was in my twenties I was a lazy worker, politically ignorant and a foolish ideologue. So I think I can safely speak to these cracked pots.

A) Show me any example in history where communism or socialism has ever really worked. Anywhere? Ever? Capitalism has given you all of the material possessions that you can't now live with out. Any of you protesters willing to give up your iphones, computers, Facebook, cars, or god forbid X box 360's?  No, in fact you want those people who dreamed up, invented, toiled, sacrificed, manufactured, marketed and produced those and thousands of other technologies to now turn over the profits back to you so you can sit in your parent's basement collecting Government money while playing with the above mentioned toys?  If you want the products of socialism, buy a YUGO.

B) Oh, the big bad oppressive system is evil. You smelly, lazy hippies use to sing about "Freedom and personal expression and how bad the establishment is." Your solution? More government, more laws, more taxes. Yea, you want bigger government and more laws as long as they coincide with your way of thinking.  I don't want laws telling me that I have to buy those stupid curly light bulbs or that I can't run with scissors if I so choose. For the little crap like that, let the individual states decide without Federal intervention what is best for it's citizens. If one state wants to legalize something, let it. That state can keep the revenue and the expense of it for itself. Never has more laws, more government and more taxes ever led to more freedom.  (see China)

C) I made a comment to a facebook friend about the protesters evidently didn't have jobs. She was quick to defend them stating that 98% of them probably had jobs. That seems a little unrealistic considering the national average for unemployment is actually around 20%. Also take into account that would mean that millions of employers would have no problem with their employees taking weeks or months off from work to sit in a park and protest the very system that the pay check issuing boss is toiling away to make work. "Sure, come back to work after you increase my taxes and destroy my livelihood." 

D) Celebrities who are endorsing these fools, shut the f*ck up. I don't see you letting these deadbeats camp on your Malibu yard, so don't tell us that we have to put up with them in our downtowns. Want economic justice? The next film you make just have the producers hand over 90% of your paycheck to the IRS so the 99 % can sit in a park at a drum circle. Michel Moore, stop giving your income to McDonalds, KFC and other "Evil Corporations." Ya fat f*ck!

E) You want jobs? What kind? Working for the Department of Pasta Research and Development? You want cushy, overpaid, union bureaucrat jobs where you shuffle in, do next to nothing, collect a check and have holidays off. Paid for by the tax dollars of those who actually produce, labor and think for a living. 

F) It's not fair... Anytime I hear that exclamation I turn a deaf ear. It's not fair that 1% controls 40% of the wealth in this country. Why not? They worked hard for it. Their parents worked hard to send their kids to good schools where they studied hard at things like business and engineering, not art and social studies. I'm an artist and I wouldn't even waste my time on an art degree.  I bet very few of the 1% had student loans paying for the education, and if they did I'm confidant they paid back the loans. Probably a few of them worked their way through college to pay for an education. So yea, they deserve it. Is it fair that a person who pushed themselves and worked hard all of their lives should have to pay more taxes to support you lazy bastards who want to sit at home all day and masturbate?

G) I could jump on board with you. I am at the bottom of the economic ladder myself. I have been homeless and hungry. Did I blame corporations, banks or George W Bush? No. It was my own fault, my situation lies entirely on my back and my choices. No one else is to blame for my life, good or bad. I am working hard to change it. I am focused on giving my child every advantage I can. I do not expect our government to take care of her or me.  

I'll be damned if I am going to quietly sit by and let you dirty, lazy, ignorant fools try to wreck the best economic system the world has ever seen.


Thursday, October 13, 2011

Don't quit your day job

It wasn't until I moved to NOLA that I could call myself a full time artist. Illustrator for the Quarter Rat magazine, commercial graphics and a house painter for some of the most beautiful buildings in America.  I approach house painting with the same passion and zeal as I did for my artwork that went into galleries back in New Jersey, however this art pays the rent.



The painting company that I work for, Pride Improvements has been contracted by the Upper Pontalba in the French Quarter to help with their extensive remodeling project for the apartments over looking Jackson Square. For those of you not familiar with the city, the French Quarter is the heart of New Orleans, Jackson Square is the very center of activity of the Quarter, The Pontalba buildings surround Jackson Square.

I never lived so close to where I worked, a three block walk from my apartment on Toulouse every morning brings me to a theatrical stage that I can call my office. One side of the set has St Louis Cathedral, the other side has Mississippi River boats with Andrew Jackson on horseback center stage. The comedies and tragedies unfold daily in front of my place of work with live music being played by street performers as I Spackle and paint a glorious old building.



Every day I get to cross paths with some of the most interesting characters that the French Quarter have to offer. Mimes, musicians, magicians and a few homeless folks that I have befriended during my smoke breaks. It's a privilege to work here on this fantastic piece of history. A few times while sitting outside on the promenade steps sipping coffee and enjoying a cigarette in my drop cloth work clothes I have had tourists snap my picture, I guess I qualify now as "local character."

I'll be writing a lot about the Square and Pontalba, it's a major part of my life right now. The term "Quarter Rat" is often associated with the bartenders and food service industries in the Quarter, contractors are the unsung rats. These historic building are authentic, no aluminum siding, no vinyl windows and no short cuts to keeping them looking great. Like aging beauty queens, the buildings are high maintenance. Every morning I step around fellow contractors on my walk who are working hard to keep roofs from leaking, paint from peeling and walls from cracking.