Sole Searching…
April 24, 2009
Before you slap your hand to your forehead in response to what I’m sure you think is a horrible fish pun, allow me to set your mind at ease: okay, it is a horrible pun, but it’s not about fish.
Feel better!
Excellent. Actually, the title of this entry refers to the week I’ve spent alone at my company while the other employees––and the founder and president––enjoy themselves in sunny, Orlando Florida. I’ve been, at varying times, head administrator, web master, IT tech, accountant, client rep, grounds keeper and cat wrangler (of seven cats, all of which live next door and require at least two different feeding regimens). And I’ve done all of this, until today, in the pouring rain. I’ve put out fires (metaphorically) and bowls of water and food (literally) with equal determination, and not once have I had my silence interrupted by anything other than a phone (about ten times per day over the course of a nine-hour period) or the ministrations of one hungry feline or another. I have to say, I got quite a bit accomplished, including a healthy portion of my screenplay and approximately two-thirds of a new short story.
But there have been other developments, as well. For one, I’ve felt…relaxed. I know you’re thinking to yourself, “well, duh”, but there have been anxious moments that never really felt out of my control. I’m not sure if it had to do with the lack of an infiltrating din playing on my nerves, or the non-issue of dealing with the anxieties of others, but ladies and gentleman, I feel more at peace at work than ever.
That’s not to say I don’t still have things I’m dealing with in my life like we all do, I just don’t have anything in the way of my absorbing them and working them out. See, this is different than a vacation. I’m at work, but yet, I’m alone (as I’ve said, don’t worry I’m getting to the point). How many of us ever get the chance to do something like this? This is a first for me. I’ve come in alone on the weekends, but never during the week while matters were most definitely at hand. And viewing the company from the varied perspectives I have has really taught me, not just about the jobs others do, but about myself. It’s been fairly enlightening at times, and at others, just kind of cool.
This brings me to my final, abiding thought about the entire business: the danger the current global economic situation has put us in, and what we stand to lose. Thirty years this year this company has been around, helping people realize their dreams and taking employees from dorky college grads to mother and fathers and homeowners and such. My father built this place with his bare hands pretty much, and it grew with the help of folks that started out as faces and skill-sets who soon became members of a family. Many of them I’ve know since I was ten years-old. Now, like everywhere else, we come in every day wondering what more we can do short of growing money on a tree.
We’re still alive in this little woods, and we’re going to fight with everything we’ve got to stay that way. There are a few tricks up our sleeves, yet, even if those sleeves are looking a little linty and threadbare. But what do we stand to lose if it all goes down? More than simply a collection of individuals and the livelihoods on which they’ve grown to depend, we stand to lose a family. Not just close friends who can keep in touch on Facebook, but the kind that make each other miserable five days a week and can look to each other and say “thanks” on an almost daily basis. I’m sure there are lots of others like us, too.
And if I’m being honest, I’d be afraid to unleash a few of these people onto the world. Some of us are a little bit scary. 
Okay, perspective time. This video needs no introduction whatsoever, but when has that stopped me? Rarely, has a piece of art ever revealed its themes in such a bold and enduring way as the video you’re about to behold. So dim the lights, crank up your speakers, and hold on––for I give you a tale of olde so timeless, it continues to speak for all of us in this, our modern age. Such is its depth of understanding of the human spirit, and so forth.
Ladies and gentleman, I give you…Queenie in Trouble.
Other Things I’ve Seen
April 17, 2009
I saw a wild turkey walk across the street on the way in to work today. They’re everywhere. I think they might be the most intelligent species on the planet. Think about it: turkeys are smart to start, so the wild ones must be so finely attuned to the world that they could probably do your taxes if they didn’t decide to instead expose a loophole in the Constitution proving that filing income tax was unlawful. And then they’d eat your tie and take your wallet. I once saw a flock of them surrounded a hunter’s jeep on the side of the road, while said hunter was probably in the woods trying to track them down. Awesome creatures, wild turkeys, and they even like to take the piss.
I saw a huge bill for “fixing” my heater from the people at Conover Swanson and nothing is really fixed. It’s the last time I call on them, actually. Not just because they charge $100 per half-hour. Every time I ask them to do something, they forget half of it. So I have to call them again. Then they say they’ll call me back, and they never do. And when I call them back to tell them about it, they are so dim-witted and soft-spoken it’s like they raise rabbits in the back or something. They’re the Lennies of the world, Conover Swanson and their ilk.
I saw myself file a government complaint against the duplicitous filth at IMAGECAVE.COM. I was more thorough than a colonoscope, more dogged than a burrowing owl, and more laced with malice than a wild turkey coming upon a jeep on the side of the road. I will not stop until I blacklist this couple’s every online venture in the past, present and future. And when the world is entirely digital, they’ll be left out to scavenge for sandwich crusts on the side of the road. They might even devolve, and develop heavy brows and a sloping gait. Yes, I will not stop until they rediscover fire.
I saw my face on Facebook and several blogs that I frequent for the thousandth time and decided to grab my phone and take a new picture. You know that technique, where you stretch your arm out, point the phone at yourself, and try to look natural. For some reason I held the phone high in the air, so I’m looking up. I have no idea why I did this. Luckily, the photo was usable on the first try, as I couldn’t see me trying it more than twice. The best part about it is I look completely ridiculous in a friendly G way. I’ve confused a few people, as well, which has made the effort worth it, and I no longer have to see the same photo of me for at least a little while. I give the lifespan of this new photo about three weeks. It’s far too obnoxious to last much longer than that.
I saw Rufus Wainright on Elvis Costello’s show “Spectacle” (Sundance Channel) and it was a decent follow up to the Police segment from the week before. Rufus could never trump The Police for me, but the guy’s got deceptively powerful pipes and I love his piano playing style. I heard the song “Vibrate” for what felt like the first time and it’s another addition to a long list of his hauntingly camp confections that would make Mike Tyson weep before putting him to sleep, thumb in mouth, clutching a blankie. And Elvis has gotten so grizzled and fat, he made Rufus, resplendently casual in his white pants and blazer, look like Tatum O’Neal circa Little Darlings. Come to think, Elvis could have been a big, wild Tom in a little bowlers hat. Love him no matter how big he gets, though. Go on, E, pack ‘em on.
I saw myself reach page 64 of my new screenplay about a group of friends and the aging garage band that keeps them together, called Shelf Life. To be fair, I should have been further along but life and work and other nuisances got in the way. It’s going well, and I just completed probably one of the most emotionally authentic scenes I’ve ever written. Each word of dialog took an age to get on the page; about the same amount of time it would probably take to bring up the courage to say it. I find it takes about 50-some pages to breathe enough life into a script to where it begins to go ahead of you and pull you along. Novels are similar, but they don’t have the same kind of breathless pace that a screenplay has. You hear about people writing scripts in three days or a week. Rarely do you hear the same about a novel, unless you’re two and the novel is called “Potty Time” and each page consists of exactly one squiggly crayon mark. But who are we to judge?
And finally, I saw the lights come on in the condo across the way. It’s the first time I’ve seen that warm glow since Dorothy passed. She was my neighbor for about ten years, and she and her husband Jack had become sort of surrogate grandparents to me. Jack was a hard-ass, ex-Navy man who loved to bust my balls, and Dorothy had a laugh like a murder of crows. He used to like his Johnny walker until the diabetes set in, and she used to love her walk until she went blind in one eye. Everyone kind of expected Jack to go first, since his memory had begun to fail with certain speed in the last couple of years, but as it turns out, he was just outrunning his past. Dorothy was left in his wake when she suddenly fell ill one night and never woke up. It was her heart, they said. Now, I wonder if old Jack knows me well enough to break ‘em. They say he still asks for her, so I guess not. Anyway, I like to think it was her in there last night, as I didn’t see any cars in the parking lot. Maybe she had unfinished business. Makes me wonder if there really is any other kind.
I realize this was something of a make-weight entry, so in keeping with the outre tone, I figure I’d let Rufus take us into the weekend. Here he is singing “Vibrate” on Elvis’ show. Elvis, unfortunately, isn’t with him. He had to leave the building in order for the cameras to get a clear shot of the performance. Nah, just kidding. Enjoy the weekend, folks.
WARNING: DO NOT USE IMAGECAVE.COM
April 10, 2009
I really can’t put it any plainer than that. If I had the resources, I would paint the moon to say the same. Let me make this long story as short as I can, so y’all can see where I’m coming from.
I have been using IMAGECAVE.COM for my photo hosting for a few years now. On July 31st of 2008, I subscribed via Paypal to their $5 a month plan in order to increase the size of my server space. Since then, I’ve been receiving monthly emails alerting me to the fact that I’ve just paid another five bucks. This made sense, and all was well. In the meantime, I adorned my blog with photos, updated my sister’s art blog with hundreds of photos, and sent out e-newsletters to clients that now number 412 souls.
On April 1st (oh, how that day of jest will toy with my memory forever) I received an email alerting me to the authorization of a $25 payment to a company called RIPSIDE.COM. Having never heard of this company, I did a little research and it turns out that they’re another image hosting site. Something smelled like ass of salmon, so I entered a dispute with Paypal. That was a critical error.
You see, I had also scheduled an e-newsletter to go out at 10 am of that day––it was my own little April Fool’s edition––and shortly after that hour I began receiving reports that there was something wrong with my email. Lo-and-behold, all the pictures looked like the vomitorious filth you now see fouling the whole of this blog. Confused, I attempted to log into my Imagecave account only to be refused access with no reason given.
I immediately saw a connection and emailed the Imagecave site using the only contact method they allow: email. And then I did some google-digging. Come to find, IMAGECAVE.COM is owned by the same people who own RIPSIDE.COM. Go ahead, give that email address a try. Or this one. Or even this one, which is from another image hosting site connected to them called VILLAGEPHOTOS.COM, which I would also avoid like the proverbial plague. Go ahead and ask them something, like, why Ripside Interactive has had one of its service sites deactivated by Network Solutions. Don’t believe me? Have a look. But before you send that email away, why not also ask why they’ve let their BBB online participation lapse. The possible reasons listed by the BBB online site include non-payment, and the flattering “failure to abide by program standards”. Want proof? You can find it easily by clicking on the BBB online logo on the RIPSIDE.COM homepage.
All this is odd for an organization that claims to be a “family-owned, honest and stable company”, isn’t it? It is to me, anyway. As is not replying to at least ten different emails I’ve sent asking for help and any kind of information whatsoever through several different accounts including a Myspace page (where he has the balls to say he makes $250k a year), and a Portrait Studio where their tag is “Capturing Life’s Moments”. Unfortunately, they forgot to add “and never giving them back”.
I’d like to add that, in all of my correspondences––even the ones where I felt the need to tell them I may have to pursue legal action––I’ve been polite, civil, non-threatening and fair. And yet, even after waiting almost two weeks, still nothing.
So it looks like I’m out $55 (turns out they also billed me three months after I joined, making April 1st their 6 month re-up, and then proceeded to bill me for my monthly Imagecave subscription that very same day, a.k.a the day they suspended my account) and four pages of precious photos, some of which I’ll never get back. And before you think it, please understand that I’m not at all looking for sympathy. Perhaps they got a cease and desist due to some copyrighted photos being used on their site. It’s damn near impossible to police that, and even yours truly has used photos that he’s found already in existence on the Internet unless they were on a Photo site, but I’ve always either contacted the person first or linked the photo to their site and mentioned them. And all this time, I’ve never heard a single, discouraging word. Even so, shit happens, but it would still be nice to know a) why I’ve been getting billed for a service I didn’t subscribe to, and b) why I wasn’t given the courtesy of a reason as to why I’ve been suspended. Obviously, I don’t matter, and I’m sure I’m not the first or only.
And that’s why this entry today. I hate when I don’t matter to people who have had the pleasure of taking my money and my property. In fact, it makes me…well there’s mad, there’s frustrated, there’s very angry, there’s livid, and there’s what I am today: all of the above, mixed with a lot of disappointment and more than a bit of hurt. Even though it’s hard to hide on the Internet, it’s apparently easy to dodge your fuck-ups. Just don’t acknowledge them. It’s the way anymore, isn’t it? Shirk your responsibilities and let someone else foot the bill? All I can do is look into my legal options––which you can be damn sure I’m doing––and hope that others learn from my mistakes.
I think now is definitely time for another “perspective video”. This one’s quite special, actually, because it’s the first record I ever owned. I was about 4 or 5, and I can still remember how my dad set up a little turntable next to my bed and woke me up by putting it on. Until next time, folks. Be careful, out there.
And send a few emails, why don’t you?
