I hate to whine on the internet, since I kinda have this reputation for complaining too much (which is half true and half LOL-worthy, at least when the observation comes from folks who themselves complain a lot, but hey, everyone likes to bitch and moan, it?s a fact of life), but especially since a number of friends and colleagues are in high spirits due to a variety of reasons. Though what can I say? I feel like a broken man, due to a great deal of things going on right now. Speaking off…
ATTN: Editors & People In General That I Owe Work
I want to apologize for my recent not so stellar track record, my perpetually being late or even flat out missing deadlines. What else can I say? It?s not due to slacking, I?ve just been super bummed out and stressin? hardcore. The days and nights have been long and rough, so by the time I manage to make it back to my shitty little bedroom/home office/fortress of solitude, I?m so emotionally and physically spent that all I can do is blow some steam off by fucking around online (hence why the forums are still alive and well! and thank God? it?s been the ultimate stress reliever) or just passing out. Though I have been trying to get in some quick games of Mawaza whenever I can (it?s an action/puzzle game for the PS2 and from Japan, that is seriously one of the best games I?ve played all year? check it out, if you can).
All that and I have had a harder than usual time dealing with the general b.s. that p.r. folks tend to provide. But yeah, its not like I?m forgetting about all the stuff I?m supposed to or want to do, which in turn leads to more stress. Hopefully things will stabilize very soon. Actually, it flat out has to.
The (Didn?t Go To) SPX Report
Oh, so I didn?t go to SPX this past weekend (as most folks already know). Even though I really, really wanted to. A few folks I spoke with that attended said it was a totally awesome affair, while others said it was rather “meh” in various regards. To be honest, I?ve somewhat been avoiding all the post SPX reports. Though I did hear that my absence did not go unnoticed, which was certainly nice to hear. In fact, Dave (Roman) mentioned: “Yeah, you got more ?we miss Matt’s? than Todd Webb.” Which is crazy cuz EVERYONE loves Todd!
It?s kinda strange how it?s easily my fave comic show, as well as the first “real” one that I ever went to, and thusly holds a lot of sentimental significance in that regard, as well as other respects, but now… things are different. I no longer have that sense of attatchment and belonging as I once did, since things have changed, mostly on a social level. And comics shows, as are most things, are social affairs, so now that I find my place in the grand world of comic books to be in a state of limbo, I have no clue if I?ll be coming back next year, if ever. Even though it’s one of the very few times and places I can see certain folks (both Joel and Ed made their triumphant returns, and I?m really sad that I missed them). So I’ll just have to wait and see.
So, how did I spend my weekend instead? Well, Friday after work I checked out an apartment. It was really, really nice, but I?ll get to that in a second. Afterwards I met up with Mike, his best buddy Fitz, and Joe (Salina), plus his buddy Moony, for some “Irish Yoga.” Cuz I TOTALLY needed a drink that night.
We basically went bar hopping, which included a stop at this dive that?s across the street from the Anthology Film Archices, which I?ve seen the outside of for literally years now, but never bothered checking out. Nice place! It was there that Fitz explained to me the finer points of human cannibalism (the guy is friends with medical anthologists, so I guess you learn such stuff from them). Afterwards was a stop at Kenka, which would have taken us four hours to get in, but Moony is half-Japanese and was able to say the right things to get us seating in about fifteen minutes (sorry round eyes!). So while there, we enjoyed their very cheap Japanese beer, as well as the kimchee, which as reported is actually quite excellent! And when Mike, Fitz, and Joe started to talking about anarchism all heavy duty, which both Moony and I immediately tuned out of, I then discovered that we both share a love for really shitty wrestling. Hey any fan of Hakushi is a friend of mine for life (Moony would end up doing his move, which is a praying crucifix powerbomb the rest of the night). When we went for Palm Fretes, some homeless British guy in a bathroom and a really tight tucked in shirt that showed off his massive gut, plus ninja boots, as well as a broom, danced for us. And Joe had the most ridiculous looking hat in the world, that we mercilessly mocked the entire evening. Oh, and the final bar of the night was this really awesome Belgium place that was underground; the head waiter was very Danny Bonaduce-like, but very cool nonetheless.
The next night, Saturday, was not as hot. I got invited to a “DIY punk art show” put together by some “art collective” by Joe, and when I asked what exactly was a “DIY punk art show” was, it didn?t take long to realize that it’s just some overly-fancy term for just a party thrown by a bunch of art school kids. I actually arrived kinda late, after all the live musical acts, but since it was kids playing punk and folk, or trying to, so I believe I dodged a bullet. But when I say kids, I mean kids; I was easily one of the oldest ones there. I immediately struck up a conversation with a girl, who was drinking a beer, and when I realized that she couldn?t have been older than 17, and point this out, she literally ran away.
There was all this junk all over the place. Kinda like a scene from a really shitty flea market, at the end of the day, all the stuff people hauled there in the morning but don?t feel like taking home. There was old records, alarm clocks, bootleg DVDs, an old PlayStation, and some MET-Rx bars, all of which was covered in beer. At one point some cookies and brownies were passed out, but I believe they were found in the trash (though everything was individually wrapped in plastic).
The highlight of the party, which I missed, was when cops arrived on the scene earlier in the day due to a noise complaint, and one of the kids who lived there got scared and threw his pot plant over the backyard fence, into his neighbor?s yard. And I got witness them pull out a huge ladder and try to find the plant in the dead of night. Which they eventually found, and then all the kids all excited, like buried treasure had at least been unearthed. The scene was rather silly, especially because the plant looked so anemic.
Oh, and I wasn?t the oldest dude there, though sadly, I don?t think a single girl there was above 18, which was the main reason why I went to the party in the first place; there were exactly two older dudes than be, real peace of shit, drug dealer types, who were just sitting around, just waiting for girls to pass out drunk so they can rape them. Needless to say, the whole scene was kinda wretched, and I didn?t stay for very long (I know Joe felt bad about inviting me out there, but it wasn?t his fault). Anyway, I ended up going back home that Saturday night watched TV or something. And Sunday I just sat around the house, played some games and read some comics. So yeah, nothing special. I could have… well, should have done some work, but I was kinda wiped out from the week?s worth of…
The Living Hell That Is Apartment Hunting
For those of you that have been frequenting the boards might already be aware of my attempts at acquiring a new place to live, and what a nightmare its been, from top to bottom. At this point, I?ve “had” about four places that I would lose due to mostly my shitty credit.
I believe I?ve explained before why my credit is so bad, but once again, long story short: years ago I had a lot of credit card debit, which was fine till 9/11 came and I was on unemployment, and went through a debt consolidation agency, which turned out to be a total scam that stole all my money, which meant all those debts I owed became outstanding, so I was sent to the brink of bankruptcy, but I was able to pay off each creditor in the end, and my history is slowly being repaired, but its far from great at the moment. Anyhow, last week I found a place in Washington Heights, and the real estate agent ran a credit report; it wasn?t spectacular, but it wasn?t the absolute worst either. But all landlords want nothing but the absolute best, period. And with nine million other people fighting over places, they can be picky and choosey. As for this particular place, the agent was confident that despite my record, he would be able to get me in, but the very next morning, he told me how she didn?t even want to talk about it, and when attempting to state my case, the woman slammed the phone on him. And that was that.
But yeah, I?ve been going through real estate agents. Spare me the “It?s such a waste of money” speech, because I already know, but there is zero alternative. What, Craigslist? Whatever. Pretty much everything is a scam, and anything legitimately good is quickly snatched by, you guessed it, by real estate brokers. For better or worse, they often have access to the very best stuff. But many of them are also complete frauds; the other week I dealt with some woman who was clearly not a licensed broker but just someone who either found shit on Craigslist or snatched rooms for rent signs in whatever neighborhood. This was proven by the argument she got into with the wife of a superintendent of one particular place that she tried showing me; the “agent” tried to play it off and thought she had the advantage, since I didn?t understand Spanish, but it was clear that she was just someone off the streets and the wife was not playing along with the shtick.
I really fucking hate real estate people. They do absolutely nothing, yet they get all this money for it. Though I kind of hate landlords even more; they can do whatever they want, because no matter what, there are still nineteen million others just dying to live in the city, and are well aware of this fact. Quite a few places I?ve checked out have been completely shitty, and whenever I?ve asked about certain things, usually basic or small stuff, such as issues regarding security, everyone has gotten immediately annoyed, as if you?re being too picky. Maybe because some folks will accept anything and as a result landlords know they have all this power at their disposal. The whole credit thing is again the heart of the issue, and total bullshit; if I make more than enough money to pay the rent, and can produce a thousand and one letters or recommendation, why does it all come down to whether I had a hard time paying Visa six years ago?
As for that place in Carol Garden Friday night, it was through a real estate agency that a friend referred me to, and everyone there was actually pretty cool. They explained to me that in Brooklyn, landlords don?t just care about numbers but the people they?re supposed to represent. Which is the way it should be. When they showed me a place that was totally awesome, it was believed that I would be able to get in, since the agents seemed to really like me, and I?m pretty good in interview scenarios, so I was looking forward to meeting the landlord the following Monday and quite hopeful. But instead, I would discover that it was gone, to someone else who had offered more money than what was asked.
That same day, Jason passed along a Craigslist ad to a place, and when I called the number, I had the most annoying conversation ever, to the point that I hung up on the guy. But once the Carol Garden place was officially gone, I had no other choice but to call back the douchebag. The dude had been all “HEY MAN, YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS HERE TO CHECK IT OUT BECAUSE IT IS SUCH A GOOD DEAL IT WILL BE GONE VERY VERY SOON” and couldn?t understand why I couldn?t be there in twenty minutes, despite the fact that I work in Newark, to the point that he was almost mocking me, hence why I hung up on him in the first place. So I went over the very next morning before work, and it was okay? hardly perfect, but since my spirit was starting to crumble, plus the clock was ticking louder than ever, I accepted it. And it was only downhill from there; this particular agent, named Uzzi, was a total dumbass who only cared about his fucking commission (that?s all he would talk about), and all his knowledge about the neighborhood turned out to be completely false. Again, another place that I did all the paperwork and put money down for but lost, this time due to the landlord apparently being really annoyed that I asked if metal bars about be added to the windows (I figured it would be a given since it was on the first floor), in a place that was somewhat in the ghetto. But in this instance I?m glad since everything just seemed so fishy from the get-go (which I again was almost willing to accept since I?m so fucking desperate).
Later that same day, I checked out another place, again near Washington Heights, and it?s the absolute greatest apartment ever. So good that I?m sure I won?t get it. You know, cuz of that fucking credit rating of mine. But the real estate people behind this one were referred to me by the brother-in-law of a coworker, and again seem like totally cool (and legit) dudes, who are determined to get me in. Though since this is Manhattan and not Brooklyn, they fetch a premium for their services. So much so that I can afford the rent, but the price of admission… makes me rather nervous. I might have to borrow money, which I absolutely do not want to do. But I NEED this place! I?m pretty much at the point where if I have to beg and grovel for it, I will.
I also have some friends of friends who are possibly moving out, yet there?s all these logistical headaches to consider, such as timeframes and the such? too much to get into (I?ve kinda beat this subject into the ground, anyway), but constantly contemplating decisions that will affect how I live literally every ten minutes has sapped the life out of me.
I just want it to be over. And I just don’t want to be homeless. Again. Though there is a very good chance that I might be, and in exactly two weeks.
It Was Like Night Court… Except Not Funny
Oh, so my day in court over the NJTransit bullshit was yesterday. As you can tell, I didn?t go to jail (like many people thought I would, as based upon the poll results to the upper right of this webpage). Though at a certain point, it did appear as if it was a very real possibility.
The day began early, super early, in Newark. I stepped out of Newark Penn Station around 7:20 in the morning, which is the same exact time I normally roll out of bed. As I approached a taxi, a guy standing on the street spotted me and decided to escort me to the car. At first I thought he was the driver, but no, he was just some random guy on the street… no doubt some crackhead… who offered me the courtesy of “finding” a cab, which I had already seen and was heading towards, and escorted me to it, all four feet. And the price was $2. I told him to seriously fuck off, and he got angry. And then when I got in the car and told him my destination, the driver just glared at me. Does the crackhead actually work for the fucking guy? But that pretty much set the tone for the rest of the morning (and I believe was the “Matt Hawkins you are having an awesome day.” reaction from Katie on Twitter… I was more or less “live-blogging” the entire chain of events).
I was told that thing would get underway at 8:30, so I figured it would be a good idea to get there early, which I did. By 7:30, there was already a ton of people waiting. And of course, the line would get longer, and longer, and longer, and they didn?t let us in till 8:25. Once inside, we all got yelled at and bossed around like angry drill instructors at boot camp. It was fucking pathetic; they were just yelling and screaming at people like they were cattle, or all hardened criminals. And with a few obvious exception (drunks), pretty much everyone was just like you and me, regular folks, all of whom have been called forth for some bullshit. And as I would discover, pretty much everyone had been somehow fucked over by the Newark police department.
Once through the metal detector, I headed to my assigned court room and waited for the judge. It was past 8:30, and it was then I realized that I would be there for a good while. I instantly became friends with Rubin, this very big and burly, yet very soft spoken, like a huge teddy bear, truck driver. He has all sorts of wacky tattoos, still lives with his mom (he?s a total momma?s boy, and that?s okay), and was perhaps the best part of the ordeal.
After everyone was assembled, a woman at the bench named off names for those who would be facing the judge. She had this tone of utter disdain and annoyance, which was extremely aggravating. Again, I fucking can?t stand people who have such fucking rotten attitudes on the jobs, which they should fucking thank God for, but especially when its some service related job and how they treat the public like shit, since we?re the ones who fucking put food in their mouths. The rules of the courtroom were then read. The first few made total sense, such as no talking and eating. But the last one blew my fucking mind: NO READING.
Rubin, who was in for a traffic infraction, told me how he had faced the judge before, over something similar, and which was no real big deal. He told me how nervous he was, and that he simply wanted to plead guilty and get it over with. I then mentioned my situation, and how I wanted to state my own case, despite my inability to get any evidence; I managed to get an email response from NJ Transit when asking them if they had any records of lightning striking a train and putting if off line during the middle of rush hour, which is what led to me being in court in the first place, and of course, the response admitted that there was service disruption, but had the wrong date, plus it ended with a really sarcastic “This has nothing to do with anything!” comment (which can be seen here). Rubin then explained how last time he also plead guilty, but then asked innocently enough about how and where he would be paying his fine, and was then? get this? immediately slapped with a contempt of court charge (for asking a single fucking question!), so he was slapped with handcuffs right in-front of everyone, which he said was extremely embarrassing . Rubin was then sent to the back and forced to disrobe and get into prison gear, you know, the orange jumpsuit, and held in jail for two hours. Holy fucking shit.
Right then and there, my heart sank. I had bad luck before, when trying to a restraining order against my crazy ex, and was flatly denied, as well as humiliated in front of everyone, when the judge said ?You gotta talk sense into your woman!? Which I responded with ?Your honor, I wouldn?t be here trying to get a restraining order if she HAD any sense.? So it was nice to know the Jersey court system as still fucked.
Next the district attorney showed up, to talk and meet with everyone about their cases, before they faced the judge. She was actually really friendly, and seemingly the only considerate person associated with the all the bullshit. She offered me a plea bargain, which I didn?t want to accept, but I did. The original fine was $80, but knocked down to $25, though with court costs, it was bumped up to $5. But I also didn?t have the time to spare for yet another court appearance, let alone figure out how I was going to defend myself properly. I felt like a real tool, as if I was throwing in the towel, but the cards were stacked against me.
It took forever for her to get through everyone, but once that was over with, the bailiff showed up, who btw was the fattest police officer I had ever seen in my life, and he yelled as us some more, and then the judge finally showed up. Not surprisingly, he was a major ass. He started off with ?I give people respect if I feel they deserve it? and it was all downhill from there. His basic tone was that it was his yard and if you so get out of line, you are fucked, with the overall attitude and tone being, you are all guilty in my eyes, period. He explained that if one wants to plead innocent, there was three ways to go about it: first hire a lawyer, which of course, is out of most people?s means . Second is having a court appointed lawyer, and excuse me if I?m wrong, but I was always under the impression that a person who needs legal defense can always be awarded if need be it, but that?s certainly not the case, at least in Newark. It was this judge?s call if you deserved a lawyer, and his criteria was, naturally, totally vague and arbitrary. The third and final option was the option to defend one?s self, which again, had to get this guy?s okay, provided once more if he felt one was ?up to it.? And you know, considering how some crazy guy shot and killed a dozen or so people on the LIRR about fifteen years ago, and he was able to defend himself, I guess we?re not as qualified or something. And if any one of us managed to get the okay, he indicated that he would expect each person to know every law like the back of their hand and “I ain?t gonna tolerate you going ‘But I?m not a lawyer, I didn?t know!’ about this or that, cuz that?s gonna be just too bad!” Basically, the dude was drunk off his power and lorded it over us for a good twenty minutes before actually getting to business. He was also condescending as fuck. One girl who was there to plead not guilty for breaking curfew was asked “Excuse young girl, but exactly how old are you?” The response was a very indignant “I?m 26 your honor, a post grad student.”
I pled guilty and thought that was it, but of course not. Then we all had to wait outside for all the cases to be cleared, and then be given sheets that stated our fines to give to the collection department. While there I got to hear more stellar examples of how fucked up the Newark police department was. The aforementioned girl who was fine with breaking curfew explained how she was just hanging out at the park with her friend, minding their own business, when a copy said they were breaking the law by being out too late. Curfew is at 10 pm (the fact there is one is already fucked, I know), but it was actually 9:40, yet she still got fined. Best part was how her friend got off scott free, and he had an open container of booze! I also have a coworker who had her car banged up by a careless officer, and they flat out refuse to provide proof for her insurance company so she doesn?t have to absorb the cost of repairs herself.
But most people, including myself, just wanted to pay the fucking fine and get it over with. And that?s the heart of the problem; they make you feel so worthless, so helpless, that you don?t even want to defend yourself. You?re just happy to bow down and get shit over with. Gee, no wonder everyone in the city is so goddamn angry. And once again, the Newark police department can go fuck themselves.
FINALLY!
But in far brighter news, I?m finally going to the Game Developer?s Conference! As a judge for the Independent Games Festival’s inaugural mobile game competition! Yay! And about damn time, amirite? Once again, for more info, head on over to the you know where.
