Crazy Fingers

I resigned from my job last night, after receiving a written offer.

Brian and I are starting to look at apartments this morning.

Details to follow on both.

I never thought I’d put a picture of Judy Garland on this blog!

I don’t know how it came up, but today at lunch we discussed why Judy Garland is such a gay icon. (We also discussed the time of and reasons for the death of disco, and why New York City subways don’t run on fixed schedules, although it turns out they do. It’s amazing what a room full of smart people talk about. I’ll miss these guys.)

“Judy Garland is popular among gays?” asked the head of financial engineering.

“Judy Garland was not all that talented,” said the putz.

“Go say that on Christopher Street,” said one coworker. (”Or 23rd and 8th,” I corrected.)

Ask Yahoo had an answer.

Judy Garland was hugely popular among gays during her lifetime. Her concerts were major gay meeting places, and in her later years, she made money singing at gay piano bars. Garland’s father was gay, as were her studio-executive mentor and two of her five husbands. She had many gay friends and went to parties where she joked that she was the only woman present. But her appeal was based on more than her own acceptance of gays.

Both onscreen and off, Garland projected a unique combination of vulnerability and strength. She sang of intense loneliness, followed by songs describing delirious love. She had legendary stage fright but declared her greatest happiness came from performing. These conflicts mirrored the lives of oppressed, closeted gay men in the 1950s and 1960s. They identified with the paradox and duplicity in Garland’s life. Severe laws and prejudice against homosexuality forced gays to lead double lives and hide their true selves.

Let’s not forget that the Stonewall Riots began on June 27, 1969, the day of Judy’s funeral.

I’m not really the kind of gay man who cares or thinks much about Judy Garland, but I guess it’s part of my heritage.

Go to Google. Search for “gay deadhead.” Who’s first? The next time a potential employer asks me what my greatest achievement was, I have something new to say.

I’m also first on MSN and Yahoo. (MSN and Yahoo also have me high in the rankings for “queer deadhead.”)

Woo-woo.

Maybe that’s how Adam found the blog. Check out the comment he left about his experience dating a deadhead. (Brian, you taking notes?)

I also saw a guy walking a little dog in The Shire this morning. The dog was wearing a dancing bear collar. Not sure the guy was gay — some men in Chelsea aren’t gay — but maybe he was another member of our little tribe.

I’m thinking I’d like to tattoo the dancing bears either on the inside of my forearm, or as a band around my biceps, but Brian has made it clear he does not approve.

I’m not bitter that they’re offshoring my job (i.e., firing me and replacing me with cheaper people in Melbourne, Australia). No, not me.

Neither are any of my coworkers, one of whom sent me a link to this article, entitled “Australian Financial Engineering Continues to Grow in Status.”

I saw Oliver in Starbucks this morning, with the dogs. I went in there to talk on the phone, after spending like 3 hours in the gym, some of it doing back and traps with Brian, most of it on the phone with one good recruiter (the one who’s getting me the job I want) and one IDIOT recruiter (the one who’s getting me the offer I’m going to turn down).

I didn’t pass the background check for the offer I’m going to decline. They couldn’t verify my employment in the late 90’s, the time we all thought we were going to be millionaires. Credit Suisse Asset Management had no record of my employment, but duh, they wouldn’t, because I was a subcontractor. It took no fewer than 20 phone calls (I am not exaggerating) to resolve that. I put the IDIOT recruiter in touch with the company to which I subcontracted, and I called and spoke with my contact there, but in the five minutes after I called them, they took their phones offline to install VOIP. That generated a new round of phone calls, while I was trying to shower. I realize there’s a huge commission at stake if I take this job, but these people were hysterical. I told them not to call me anymore, and to be patient, and wait for the phones to work again. They eventually reached someone who verified my employment, so maybe it’s resolved.

I gave a tentative acceptance to the other offer without speaking to Brian, and he was concerned. He felt that this is the kind of thing we should talk to each other about, and I not only agree, but I’m thrilled that he feels that way. I apologized last night. I like that in Brian’s mind, our relationship is developing into something sort of like a partnership (although we’re not officially using that word for now).

Brian is who I was on the phone with when Oliver walked in to Starbucks. I called him after I clarified some things with that recruiter: lowish base but huge upside potential in the bonus, a company that actually makes money and pays bonuses (how refreshing!), and solid domestic partner benefits. (I avoided the conversation about domestic partner benefits until I knew they like me, and that seemed odd to Brian. I don’t make much of a secret about my life — which is obvious if you read this blog — but I wasn’t sure I wanted it to come up during the interview process.) So anyway, I called Brian, and he’s on board with my going to work there, and then I let the recruiter know he should move forward.

When I asked about the domestic partner benefits, and told the recruiter I wasn’t single, it took a few iterations for him to realize I’m gay.

“I’m not single,” I said.

“Oh, your wife …?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m not married.”

“Oh, your fiance?”

“No,” I replied again. “It’s not a woman.”

“Oh.”

Ah, domestic partner benefits. I had them when we were part of State Street, and lost them when the red-state ignoramouses that just layed me off acquired us. It’ll be nice to work for a forward-thinking company again.

Rocco was especially funny today.

Alright, so maybe it’s my own fault for picking the gayest movie theater ever to go to, but whatevs….it’s right by where I live and it was a Sunday….Oh My Gawd….I walk into the fucking theater and it was like Cher’s farewell tour at the Roxy meets a Crystal Meth Anon gathering… I mean Faggets everywhere! It was totally Roxy, except no one was high or drunk and the lights were on, so you can actually see that everyone was old and ugly, instead of waiting to the next day to find out that you just plowed a forty year old former pretty boy from like Miami.

I was stressed out at work so I got some comfort food from max. Sugar-free Jelly Belly Jelly Beans (there’s a Wikipedia entry for Jelly Belly) and Carb-Options Skippy Peanut Butter (there’s also a Wikipedia entry for Skippy). (Skippy’s website is peanutbutter.com.) Max also brought me Christmas lights for my cubicle.

(Why was I stressed out? Waiting for job offers, and having to train my FUCKING replacements in Australia.)

I ate the whole bag of Jelly Bellys. The package says, “Consumption may cause stomach discomfort and/or a laxative effect” and I’ve done this before, so you’d think I might have learned. “Nothing comes for free.”

I’m getting close to being able to send an email to my boss, his boss, his boss, and his boss with the subject line, “Take this job and shove it.” Maybe tomorrow.

Gothamist discovered brooklynpix.com. When I saw that, I immediately clicked on the Coney Island link, looking for pictures of my heritage. Lo and behold, there it was.

Look at the red sign in the middle of the picture. Faber’s Sportland. Faber was my mom’s maiden name. I’ve found evidence on the web of two Faber’s stores in Coney Island, one in Rockaway Playland, and one on the boardwalk in Long Beach. I think they also had stores in Times Square. All these Faber’s stores were my grandfather’s businesses, or his one of his brothers businesses.

I’ll probably write more about this in the future. I’m rushing out the door to work out with Brian now.

This is what I see when I lay in bed in my apartment. It’s a cool reminder of the holiday season.

That’s the Empire State Building in red and green lights and the Chrysler Building in white light in the background.

I had some time yesterday, so I finally got around to watching Festival Express, which I ordered from MaxDelivery. If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth checking out. It was great watching Jerry and Janis and many other people making music just for the fun and love of it, without performing for an audience. They obviously loved what they did. Jerry’s face was so adorable; it radiated pure love. It was nice to be reminded of that. It was also timely, in light of the recent archive.org controversy, to hear these musicians being critical of the people who thought the travelling rock festival (the subject of the movie) in 1970 should be free, as if the artists and promoters owed them something. Bob Weir (among others) made it clear that the people producing these concerts had to make a living, and that if it were free, it couldn’t happen at all.

As planned, Brian and I did go to dinner with his mom at SQC, then to see the Nutracker (which was beautiful — it was the first time I’ve seen it), and finally for coffee and dessert. Then Brian and I went home to his house and went to bed. Luckily, his heat was finally working.

Today we woke up, then went to the gym and did triceps. We got something to eat at Energy Kitchen, then went downtown to Patagonia so Brian could shop for a winter jacket and a bunch of other stuff. They didn’t have the jacket or socks in his size, but he did get a nice hat. He’s going to order the jacket and socks online. We ran into my friend Carey Bond, who works there (and also guides Kayak tours at Manhattan Kayak Company, and probably does some other things, too). I endured some ballbusting from Carey about the fact that I haven’t been paddling much. He’s taking a group out on Saturday morning all winter. Maybe I’ll join them. Or not. (I own a dry suit. Uncomfortable to wear, it keeps the water completely out. With warm clothing underneath, such as any number of things one might buy at Patagona, it’s not terribly unsafe to go out into freezing cold water. You’ve got to protect yourself in case you go in, but it gets pretty damned hot in that dry suit, and just as it doesn’t let water IN, it doesn’t let water OUT, either, so very often you’ll find yourself in a pool of your own sweat.)

They were playing some cool music in Patagonia, on shuffle, including what I believe was Europe 72, from which we heard “One More Saturday Night.” The guy at the register, who has worked there for years, and who is a big deadhead, asked me if I had heard about the archive.org controversy. Duh.

After Patagonia, Brian went off to see some friends, and I walked back to The Shire. My friend Kevin was in his office, so he left and walked toward home with me. We had coffee at Rafaella, and sat for two hours. Then I came home, and added trackback to this blog by integrating a free service from Haloscan.

I had a civil conversation with my manager, and his manager, about my exit strategy from my current job. They expressed a desire to see me in the office, although I have a second interview tomorrow, which I expect to last most of the day. I want to avoid being around my old job for any time at all before this interview because I don’t want to trash my morale. I really want this job, so wish me luck. I was there most of the day on Friday. I agreed to give two weeks notice (to help the transition, ick) and to have a more predictable schedule, once I accept another offer. They seemed to appreciate my attempt to be cooperative.

Brian and I are thinking of going away somewhere warm the first week in January, which would give me some time off before I start the next job, and a week in the sun with my beloved.

I’m heading over to Brian’s to watch Desperate Housewives in a few minutes, then coming back to my place to sleep. (I may grovel to my friend Kevin to let me use his gym to do cardio after Desperate Housewives, since there are no NYSC locations open past 10pm.) We’re working out Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, then taking Friday off. We never did work out yesterday, and I was a bit annoyed.