"I am an idealistic, naive, passionate, truth-seeking, spiritually motivated artist, unschooled in the science of law and finance." --Wesley Snipes

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Tony's Back in Town

It's been a long time, a long summer, a long life. And I'm back. Lord, summer was very great.


This morning in the inbox, my latest rejection. The only thing I send out anymore is the second full-length, _Wintered_, which gets short-listed annually for NPS, praised by friends, lovers, and the occasional stranger, and ultimately is returned with a curt "no thanks." It's unbelievable to me that I haven't actually made a submission to a journal in nearly two years. (Unsolicited, that is--I've been asked by a couple of places in the past year or two, but not much.)

This notion that I'm a "poet" is becoming less and less real to me. It no longer seems a way to self-identify. I'm a teacher, I'm a cook, I'm a depressed weirdo. But poet...hmm.


Financial woes still plague me. Yesterday they plagued me in a new and irritating way! I came home from work, did laundry, and began sifting through the rather large stack of (mostly) junk mail waiting in my box. Among the junk mail was a letter from one of my three landlords (honestly, I thought I only had one) informing me that a) I've been a great tenant and b) he's kicking me out. Apparently, homeboy's son is moving to Eugene for college and daddy decided to house him in MY apartment. What does this mean for Tony? Well, practically it means two things. 1) I need to find someone with a big truck and big muscles to help me move, 2) I need to find a place to move to, 3) I need to find money to cover in move-in costs. Okay, that's three things. In any case, welcome to my nightmare. Alice Cooper plays a lot of golf, I've heard.

UPDATE! Did I mention that the unit beneath me was vacant from early April until about 2 weeks ago? But he's kicking ME out?


Playing right now: San Diego Serenade, Tom Waits. I thought of San Diego this past Sunday when my lady and I took a trip to the Oregon coast. (Prior to Sunday, S had not driven a car in ten years--it was an interesting drive.) I brought along a box full of old cassette tapes (many of which had not seen the light of day since 1991 or so--anybody remember Daddy Freddy? Me neither) to listen to on the way and I found, between Neil Young's _Weld_ and Material Issue's _International Pop Overthrow_, a takeout menu from my favorite restaurant circa '91-'92, Kabul West. A small but elegant little Afghan joint in a strip mall, nothing on the lunch menu was priced over $4.75. Even in 1991 this was a great deal. The daily lunch special consisted of your choice of one entree (or 3 appetizers), a green salad with loads of cilantro and a mustardy house dressing, a cup of bean and pasta soup with yogurt and mint, all you could eat Afghan naan bread with two chutneys (four if you knew to ask), and coffee, tea or soft drink for--ready for this?--$4.25. Seriously--enough food for 2-3 meals cost $4.25. Last time I went to San Diego, Kabul West's original location had closed. According to the phonebook they had moved the operation to somewhere in North County, and were now a stand in a mall rather than a full sit-down experience. Speaking of San Diego, does anyone remember Kearney Mesa and its row of strip-mall holes-in-the-wall? Mr. Wok (I think that was the name) graces my mind with particularly fond memories.


Modern Mama said...

Yum...naan! That is rasty stuff.

Mackenzie said...

I'm assuming your lease is up. . .otherwise, they can't kick you out of that apartment, even if their son is moving there. If your lease is not up and they are asking you to move, you may be able to wrangle them to pay your moving costs, assuming your willing to move.

The self-identification thing has always been a bitch for me as well. Do most poets self-identify themselves as poets? I wonder. Some small part, maybe.

Julie said...

I know someone who can help you move, but he won't be back in town until next Friday.

gina said...

In NYC there is a crazy law that allows landlords to force tenants out if they are going to occupy the space for personal use irregardless of leases. It sucks. All landlords are slumlords.