framework & fretwork

para//e/

just t he f/acts

para//ax e

margin all i a

then being otherwise directed to a box of cheap luxe lingerie in the stock closet that if I wore I would get paid more, so I did, being slobbered on my thigh, being told I could make more money if I put my enhanced earnings (for wearing lingerie) towards his gambling, and watching him lose it all on purpose, making a futile meal of Cheerios, milk and a paper plate, jumping at the chance to offer to help someone with their car door in the parking lot to bring a little resounding health to my day, watching the new and silent and graceful seahorse be gratuitously ground up in the aquarium pump, and feeling pained empathy, which didn't get better when I accompanied him to the store to get another one, watching the employees part like Red Sea at his entrance, going on a stake out where we were being staked (probably for drugs) and the weekend wasn't over and he wouldn't take me home. I had to share couch space with the nephew of Andrew Dice Clay which wasn't entertaining, and in the middle of the night I found my clothes, put them on silently in the dark, walked thru a rocky field by moonlight, scaled a barbed wire fence, and walked home on the icy highway for several hours, cold in dark Winter, swearing I wasn't doing this again.

Once, at a casino there is a piano. He sits downs without asking permission and plays stupendously in big Rock style, filling the room with drama and sound. He is really talented. It's really sad, but it is the kind of sad that turns deftly to remote indifference.

Angela Cook <xubrnt@mac.com> May 28,2013 2:00pm To: rich@houseind.com *got corn muffin?

I walked off the job site today, just now. I was picked up by a nice gentleman with a bike on the back of his vehicle and offered a ride. We stopped for coffee and a corn muffin. He was very easy to talk with, as after a few sentences, I opened up about why I would be walking on the side of the road in ragamuffin clothes, carrying bags. He seemed empathetic to my point of view. My "boss" who is somewhere between a friend and an acquaintance (as I met him on match.com when I first moved to Portand about 8 years ago and worked with him for another employer, and was his flavor of the day for about a day before I met all his other flavors sitting around a table at a tavern, and thought he had good taste mixed with chagrin, and consciously worked at the idea, over time, that I could be his friend and just a friend, and that has worked well enough in working with him these last few months) is committed to doing a good job and he is capable, and it is the only reason I take his excessive pickiness and occasional negligence in treating me like a dipshit.

When Paul employs his guy friends, they jam their finger or something overnight to prevent them from showing up. Showing up has not been my problem and in fact, I understand it to be the thing that sets me apart from the other guys on the job site. I also understand it is what Paul needs. I try to assist him on the job site and outside of it, re painting knowledge, resources, how to, tasking and strategy so that we can work efficaciously together from my painting expertise and his carpentry and get the job done well.

I understand Paul's towering authority, some valid some not, in part comes from the Leo and fixed Aquarius in him. The point is, today he brought up a trivial issue during my break and beat me down for it, and wouldn't stop until I apologized for it. He was adamant about getting an apology because a trim board I primed was in the throwaway wood pile. Ryan, the new guy, put the the old decking on top of it. I resourcefully chose this spot, left what I was doing at Paul's request (deck rails) which are urgent because there is a party there this weekend and the work needs to be completed, and I have had to work with the weather which has been rainy. I chose that location to be away from the disassembled deck area. Paul regales me for not using a tarp. I said those were in use on the concrete under the rails with  ladders overhead, etc. I added, "there is no getting out of this," meaning, he keeps trying to admonish me with blatant blame which seems out of proportion, and has no scope, and I keep showing him the fallacy of his obdurate reasoning, and besides, it's not a big deal, as Ryan and I can remove the old decking and retrieve the trim board.

I asked why he was going on like a woman and blaming me (as the real problem with the "problem" is that the new guy didn't know better, yet Paul refuses to see it or say it, but instead piles a barrage of emotional nonsense on me). It seemed he wanted to impress Ryan, which is also my friend from the gym, that I sourced and brought to the job site. Paul retreated and I asked Ryan if I was the Nigger on the job site? He said we all are and to just blow it off. Paul couldn't believe I was walking off the job site, and asked while berating me, what I wanted, an apology, more money? He got around to an apology of sorts, although I didn't feel mollified. I addressed the importance of getting that in the first place, as that was my break, too, and I want to enjoy it as such, as well as getting that I am (an important) part of the equation before the fact of address, not after.

His exasperating query (he let me know how put out he was with broad exclamations) (so that he can ironically get back to the work at hand as that is apparently important and should? serve as a model of behavior for all?), got me thinking, yes to more money and I probably should ask, and No to telling him what I need from him, because he vexed it and he can fix it without me having to do the thinking for him. The real issue is understanding the importance of treating me right, from the get go, which probably has something to do with seeing me and acknowledging my value even if it appears I am only capable in his eyes to be of assistance, yet even that seems to go unregarded. (wow!)  I work hard and constantly and impeccably. I am committed to the work, outside of the work / go to bed early, and often I come home and shower and go to sleep, because it is that physical. I am conscientious and thorough and flexible and aid him instinctively in his work, and am in the reigns to complete a job when I would rather be doing something leisurely, it doesn't matter if it is weekend or holiday or long hours, or short. All this so that I can be squatted on to impress the new guy, who is already breaking down after one day of deck work, and stops to check his phone, text, call, and take a rest and socialize.

Paul tried to tell me I wasn't professional, if I was walking off the job site. I said  I am not a professional in taking this bullshit.

I called from the road, as I thought I should at least try to negotiate from a business point of view, and said that I would work for $20 an hour (instead of $15) to allow for the abominable behavior that I don't think he can put a leash on, for the remainder of this job (as he needs me to finish this job this week). He asks if I am on the job site. I say no. He says to just keep on walking and he will send me a check.

I get that he is making his decision from his position of pride, and that he didn't even glance the surface of offering an apology when he said he apologized.

I didn't see this coming. I thought in Paul's Aquarian equanimity that he valued people equally. I get that he may be frustrated that the trim board was in the wood pile, and it was a really pronounced frustration that was distorted and possibly vengeful, but could also easily be remedied. I feel he is treating me as topical film-flam with no contributing merit, and I am left with the opportunity to show him the error of his ways, no apology.

The underlying fact of the matter is, I am not going to Assist him in being abominable to me.

Unexpectedly, Fred that pulled over and picked me up was a segue to a natural and real moment. We talked about his nature conservancy work and woodworking, and told him about the boomerang table and my work in the woodshop at Clary Lake, and the process of working with Rick, that often in working on the table, we would dialogue possibility, demonstrate different joints and the pros and cons, and make one cut in an entire day of work. I expressed Rick was patient with instructing me and that I think he liked to do that. Fred thought it was commendable that I was patient in the process of discovering the means to the end. I hadn't thought of it that way. He said that I was a very interesting person, and I felt like he meant it, although I don't know exactly what it means to him. I got the feeling that he wasn't put out in driving me home today.

Angela Cook <xubrnt@mac.com> May 30, 2013 12:06pm To: rich@houseind.com *...

i'm working on something...

the odds are in favor of the house.

Angela Cook <xubrnt@mac.com> May 31,2013 9:51pm To: rich@houseind.com *what are you wearing?

Once, someone called me and asked for Wendy, and I told him that he had the wrong number. He said that I would do, and asked me what I was wearing. I'm like, "sweats and a t-shirt …" He says, with added emphasis, "No, What are you Wearing!?" I'm like, "Oh, What Am I WEARing?…" "I am wearing HUGE COTTON BRIEFS, They are really HUUUUUGE, and they have ric-rac around the edges, and a cartoon character on the front, and they are REALLY HUUUGE!!!!! " The guy is conversating a preamble to get off the phone, and I was like, no way, "What is your name?" He sounds totally deflated as he says "Tony." And, I'm like "Don't go Mr. Tony, I want to tell you about what else I am wearing. It's REALLY HUGE!!!"

I asked the virtual magic 8 ball if you had something really huge. This is the reply. 

ScreenShot20130531at94636PM

Angela Cook <xubrnt@mac.com> June 1, 2013 12:51pmTo: rich@houseind.com * just sayin'

you are difficult, aren't you?

you wouldn't trust or be motivated by something that wasn't difficult.

Angela Cook <xubrnt@mac.com> June 1, 2013 11:27pm To: rich@houseind.com *Stalking Cross Colours

I lived in a shanty house in the hood. The front door let in a shaft of light at midday while it was closed. The windows sat ajar from the frames, with openings for air and spiders to freely migrate. When I walked into the kitchen, I ran down into the fridge, following the slope of the floor. I walked up, on a level surface to the bedroom and bathroom. I was the only caucasian in the neighborhood, and I bleached my 2 foot long hair platinum as if to emphasize that fact.* Even the tom cats in the neighborhood were not lovable but thuggish with an anti-melifluous, mean and hacking Meow and no innate desire to keep themselves kempt. With lumpy fur like a chip on the shoulder and equally undesirable to pet, the cats were always on the prowl looking for a fight, it would seem, for No F*king Reason. I marveled at the personalities of cats like people. Simple observation seemed to lend the perfect purview: being a thug is what thuggish "cats" do.**

*(In truth, I bleached my hair, because as near as I could tell, I couldn't help it. With this nearly perfect white base, I was able to try on Raggedy Ann Red, Dog Pee Yellow, and a reverse Pepe Le Pew with Midnight Navy. At this point, I thought it was wise to throw away my hair coloring "crayons," and removed the fire opal piercing from my nose so that I could breathe unencumbered, acknowledging that not all creativity was in good taste, and sought help at the beauty salon, where the person fretting and working on my hair commented that I was such a "pretty girl" and why would I do this?)

**(Truth be told, there was a nice, domesticated cat in the neighborhood and it found me and wanted to live with me, yet it always wanted to sit on the work I was working on in front of me. I didn't have room for this, and as constructively as I could, I probably projected on the cat my lax inferiority in substantiating my own presence in the world: I took magic markers and colored its white and grey fur with multi-colored dime-size polka dots, thoughtfully, as best as I could, where it couldn't lick it off, and set the cat outside into the hood, instructing it to "try not to get into a fight," and closedthe door behind it. The cat would tarry at my door step, and whenever I opened the door, it would want to come inside. I stayed outside with it, and a raspy, lumpy, tom cat brazenly walked to me and the cat, an arms length away, and attacked it. Proof positive, a thuggish cat is as a thuggish cat does! It was like it knew this was a nice, demure kitty and it was going to F*ck its sh*t over, purely because it could, and my presence was of no consequence to behoove its bearings and mainstream its manner otherwise).

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