Since I was on a tear a couple weeks ago over someone calling Andrew W.K. a “complete fake,” I might as well add that I just read a review of Lena Dunham’s new memoir from a high-profile magazine wherein the reviewer calls Lena Dunham, the person, “not real.”
I’m not going to link to the review, because it is truly a garbage attempt at criticism. How emotionally, psychologically, or creatively stunted must a writer be to make such an assessment of someone who grew up in artistic circles and performs and creates for a living? How smug must one be to draw that line and declaim from their own relative obscurity that he or she is one of the “real people”? Why do these authenticity police keep getting paid to do this? Is it just so people who are equally stunted will keep buying magazines?
Say what you will about Lena Dunham, I really don’t care (I mean, don’t be a sexist piece of shit about it), but if you go around deciding that certain people walking around our streets and breathing air are “not real” people, you may be an actual sociopath.
One of my favorite chores back at the dog hotel was preparing dinners for the dogs. After a while, it was easy to memorize what all the regular boarding dogs ate. A lot of the time, it was just scooping cups of kibble into metal bowls for some rando dogs. The regulars usually had some canned food, or high end kibble the owner brought and baggied out with the days labeled and treats inside. Every now and then the minutiae was what seemed to me at the time, absurd. But that’s the stuff that has stuck to me the most: 1/2 cup of kibble with 1/8 teaspoon of steamed carrots mixed with 1/3 cup of ground turkey and one rice cracker, broken up, all soaked in 1/4 cup of warm chicken broth and a dab of yogurt, for example. Anyway, this is all to say, when I feed Melissa’s cats at night, I break up little chunks of dried salmon treats and sprinkle them on their food to which I add about an eighth of a cup of warm water, either because I miss that part of that job, or because I now get what I once mocked and dismissed as unreasonable. Doesn’t really matter which of these is the reason.
Been pretty bummed this week! I haven’t had a job for about eight months. I’ve been living off savings and some help from my dad which I feel very fortunate about. When I moved down here, I told myself no way, no how am I going to work at a dog daycare again. I felt burned. But as fewer places I applied to got back to me for even an interview, and as I started to feel the crunch of a dwindling checking account, I figured I could fall back on dog daycare work as something to do while I look for something else. Had an interview at a place last week, and as far as I could tell, it went really well. The dogs there were really keen on me, the other candidates were timid (some of them had never worked with dogs), etc. Anyhoo, on Monday I found out that they went with someone else. It’s hard getting rejected for a job you have limited experience doing, but it fucking SUCKS to not get a job you’re really good at, especially when it was kind of your go-to, last resort option and you were very certain you would get it. Anyway, no real point to writing any of this other than to get it off my chest I suppose.
“Part-time Live-In Book or Magazine Editor with proven record wanted for internationally renowned media sexologist and published author with an almost-finished book. This is a barter position. You give us 4 hours a day, six days a week, including Saturday nights…In return you’ll get a great private room, all you can eat, free internet, maid service for the common areas, secure parking and a very cool bohemian atmosphere in our new West LA Institute with an erotic art gallery, studio, bar and there’s a lot more (at least, there will be soon; we’re renovating!) within an exciting, vibrant, socialist-style, capitalist-oriented community of artists, technologists and sexologists. You’ll also meet some of the most interesting people in Los Angeles and from around the world.”—Don’t know why I’m having such a hard time finding a job when Los Angeles is literally overflowing with positions like this.
A ~coOl*tHinG~ about having played a lot of D&D when I was a kid is sometimes I’ll mistakenly read the name “Craig” as “Crag” and I’m just like, nbd, so his name is Crag, perfectly normal thing to name a half-orc barbarian or web designer.
My two dogs got into a terrible fight today and I was bit trying to intervene. This is the first time this has happened. When you worked with dogs what did you do to diffuse fights and stay safe?
Oh boy! First of all, let me say I’m sorry. Being in the middle of a dog fight can be a VERY stressful experience and it’s no fun for anyone involved, especially when a bite occurs. I’ve never been bitten during a scuffle but I did get my leg chomped on by a not-so-friendly bull terrier once and it SUCKS. To this day, I still get a little uneasy around that breed.
Anyhoo! The easiest and safest way to break up a dog fight is to dump a bucket of water on them, say their dog bowl. Dog fights can escalate so quickly though, and especially if you’re alone, water might not be an option. Make a loud noise if possible, like clapping or slamming your hand on a wall. If that doesn’t work: do NOT keep doing it. If they’ve done and gone beyond the point that a loud noise won’t startle them out of what’s called their “hind” mind (the purely reactive part of their personality) then it won’t help to keep making noise (it can make it worse).
Whatever you do, don’t reach for the dog’s head. I know it’s instinctual to do this but it’s the worst place for your hand to be in a dog fight. Grab them by the hind legs like a wheelbarrow and pull them away. And if it’s gravely serious blood-spilling-lockjaw-stuff and no water is available: shove a thumb up one of their assholes. Only use this method as a last resort though.
The most important thing is to stay calm. Dogs react to the stress level of the people around them, and they do it blindly when in a heightened state like fighting. Most dogs aren’t out to kill each other when they scuffle. It helps to think of dog fights in terms of arguments. One of them is right, and one of them is wrong and they’ll go until whoever admits they were wrong. This usually amounts to no more than a couple of superficial punctures that, as long as they get treated, will heal up in no time. It’s not ideal, obviously, but the main reason I bring it up is because it can help when trying to remain calm.
Once they’re separated, give them some time apart until they settle down. A good thing to watch for is shaking their body (like they would when shaking off water), relaxed muscles in the face, and yawning. All of these behaviors indicate a dog that is ready to move on. If they tense up again upon reintroduction, give them some more time apart until you can figure out what is causing the disagreement. This can be a sort of trial and error process. But sometimes you might not ever know! I used to know a boxer at the daycare I worked at who didn’t like German Shepherds. Just straight up would stalk them around the room, looking for an opportunity to take them down. As far as the owner knew, he had suffered no past trauma at the paws of German Shepherds so the only conclusion was to split the dogs into a pro-German Shepherd group and a sans-German Shepherd group where he could go play for hours and not be a dick. He was a great dog aside from that.
A thing I had totally blocked out but remembered after seeing Kill Bill v2 last night is that when I was training and learning kung fu, a large portion of it was devoted to tiger style which I can’t even comprehend now because I’m pretty sure all of my fingers would break at the first knuckle upon the lightest of contact. I remember the moves themselves being very rigid and having a wide stance though. Or maybe I was rigid and doing it wrong. Anyway, haven’t seen either Kill Bill since they came out on DVD almost a decade ago and they’re still fun. Melissa and I watched them after a failed attempt at trying to rewatch Coffee & Cigarettes. We got about 20 minutes into it, turned to each other and shook our heads mutually. I think I said something like “I can’t believe I thought this shit was good when I was 21 but I also can believe I thought this shit was good when I was 21.” She said she remembers film bro dudes imposing the movie on her, which it totally kind of is that kind of movie? Then we got really high and started rapping on how all of the “Bill Murray did this unexpected thing isn’t that wild” stories could possibly find root in Coffee & Cigarettes. His quirky, fictionalized meeting with half the Wu Tang Clan in a movie directed by an indie darling that also featured Tom Waits and Iggy Pop. I mean, if that’s not an early aughts certain kind film bro jerk off fantasy, idk what is. So while I have no hard evidence to back any of this up, it totally ~`*feEls*`~ right to lay the blame for all of the “You Won’t Believe What Bill Murray” stories, et al, squarely at the feet of Jim Jarmusch.
“If your friends would describe you as the “MacGyver of data analysis,” then this could be the role for you.”—If this is how your friends are describing you, looking for a job is the least of your problems.
It is obvious you’re serious about being success because you’re reading “How To Success” on the internet.
Am I qualified to write this? Allow me to answer that question with a question. Why are you reading this essay, because I’m not?
I am success to the max. I eat nothing but juicy meat, and my shirts are made of fine fabrics. Tomorrow I will do business all day long.
But you are not success. I can help, because if I help one person success, then I absorb their life force and become stronger.
Make me stronger. Fill me with light.
When your friends success do you do trace the word “murder” on your palm with your index finger?
Is the American Dream a suitcase full of teeth and tongues?
Are you tired of reaching for the stars and just as you’re about to grab them, diarrhea?
If you answered “yes,” then visualize success. Close your eyes. Imagine a giant pulsating bladder floating in a bare room. Attack that bladder with a tomahawk. What pours out? Champagne.
Now let’s get to work.
Look to your left. Now look to your right. You are probably alone. Anyway, find a mirror. Look in the mirror. Whisper “What do you want?”
Then reach into the mirror and grab the face in the mirror with your fingernails and pull that face through the mirror. Crush that face. Lick your claws.
The first step in being success is to put on the good pants. Dress for the success you want, not like a garbage donkey.
The second step to being success is to slide the blade in quickly from behind, between the ribs, then twist slowly while whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
The third step is to destroy them. They want to see you fail. Who are they? You know who they are. In the shadows. Laughing and pointing. They want you to fail. You are persecuted. This is how you will rationalize the carnage.
The fourth step is to drown your bliss in booze. You need silence to success. That innocent inner-voice is nothing but noise.
You are so close to success. Can you taste it? Does it taste like a cold penny?
If you want to be success then you must find the ancients who crouch behind the moon and sing hymns in the forgotten tongue to them.
Three midnights later they will respond, or they will not respond. If they do not respond then your success will be understanding that the gods are indifferent.
If they do respond, you will know it. Their messenger might be a bird or a ferocious, mythical skaarg from the lost age.
They will demand tribute. You will have to make sacrifices. Actual sacrifices. That is the final step to success.
Now you have it. How do you keep success, because they want it and they have knives.
Yo if you ever find yourself thinking or saying “I was sort of like a tweet musician” then yes, definitely take a year long (or probably more?) sabbatical from the internet, if not for your own mental health, then for everyone else’s.