Alright - so this is seriously like the most embarassing thing ever... Exactly 6 months ago I moved to NYC for this seemingly uber-exciting new gig, and everything ended up going hideously wrong. Basically, I was supposed to follow this dirty old millionaire around to all of his 14 businesses and learn everything about... um... becoming a dirty old millionaire?
But said dirty old millionaire has a weekness for young boys - actually, I venture, even younger boys than myself, but that didn't stop him from coming onto me all the time and FREAKING out whenever the possibility of me getting laid arose...
Not that the whole thing didn't have it's perks... I traveled, met fabulous people, ate AMAZING food and left the company with $3,000 worth of new clothing/luggage/product/etc... Basically, I became a hired boyfriend without ever intending to be (and ABSOLUTELY without ever having sex with him - *shudders* - the man was seriously the 7 foot tall love child of Ronald McDonald and Quasimodo).
So I left - I couldn't deal with it anymore and I was getting seriously paranoid, and I've spent the last 4 months scrambling to put together a life in a new town with no job and a seriously bizzare hole in my resume... All the while dealing with a seriously harsh case of dissillusionment...
Which brings us to the following - I seriously wrote the following post with intent to publish 6 months ago on a private jet - Gawd I sound SOOOOOOO lame - It's completely embarassing, but I wanted to be able to look back and truly see the slope of the landside that I've experienced in the past summer - it's a bit bracing, to tell you the truth...
Written in April 2004:
So I’m sitting here on this private jet with my new bosses/friends, [NAMES REMOVED] (both old school New York geniuses in their own right), when I suddenly take the first private moment I’ve had in weeks to ask myself, “where the fuck am I, and where was I 3 weeks ago???” The answers, respectively, are somewhere over South Dakota (near Mt. Rushmore, I think…) and slaving away at my fucking office job, wondering if I’d ever feel remotely ok about my life again…
I got a new job – working for a man who inspires me daily and may become one of my best friends… It’s not without it’s wacky drawbacks – he’s gay and older, and sometimes I get the idea that he has a little crush on me (a hypothesis that has been brought to a fever pitch by sharing an apartment with him in NYC (temporarily) and sharing LOTS of hotel rooms. But in general, past my paranoia, he’s fabulous.
Oh, and there’s travel – lots of it. I started the job in London last week, and since have touched down in NYC (where I’m now theoretically a resident), been to Kansas City, where my boss owns and is fully-renovating a business-level hotel, and am currently en route to Vancouver, BC, where we own a bottled water company.
But mostly, theoretically, I’m working with his music company in NYC – we do publishing, management, have a small label, work with production, and basically try to figure out any necessary service to artists and then create said service. We sit around and have 3 hour meetings about artists we like, and where we think music is going in our gargantuan Chelsea Heights loft space.
To summarize, my job is like jerking off all the time (so far). The last time I was this fulfilled I was in school in Boston, and honestly, 2 months ago, I thought I’d never be this fulfilled again.
As I said before, I moved to NYC (sort of) – right now I’m living with [my dirty boss] in an AMAZING Hell’s Kitchen high-rise (48th floor!), and I’m getting totally spoiled… but I’m still stoked to move out, because even though I’ve only been in NYC for just under a week, I’ve already found a fabulous roommate – Oliver (I don’t know his last name). Oliver’s 19, and a student, and just got back from Israel for some reason, and seems to have a lot of money behind him and speaks some sort of exciting middle-eastern language (possibly languages?) – he has a Mohawk, and works at the Big Cup – my favorite Chelsea cruising location (imagine a cruising spot, where everyone met under the guise of being literate and cool and reading rad new paperbacks while sipping Chai Lattes). It’s false and fantastic and it’s been the birthplace of some of the greatest sex and book recommendations of my life…
So, to sum up, I’ve got a new start – I’m 22, have a job I’m excited about, live in the greatest city in the world, and finally feel like my life is starting – maybe it’s ridiculous to write all this down – maybe in a week I’ll hate everything again, but right now, on the private jet to Vancouver with two of the coolest guys in the world and the new Garbage record blaring into my headphones, I feel pretty solid.
OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!!!!????
