So what was your first pregnancy symptom?
The desire to be rich...A sudden aversion to the Bohemian poverty that I had inadvertently courted and which is now to be my permanent fate. I was walking around 5th Avenue with mi hermano though and this may have played a role in the deep dissatisfaction with lower middle classdom.
Because of the hideous Ben I have this idea that my bro could be a movie star and make lots of money and give me some. But the bro claims that no amount of money he could make would ever be enough to give me some. And we were looking in people's windows at their fancy penthouses and drooling over this one building on Broadway. I think it's in the '40s. And I had to fight back tears 'cause of my utter lack of money. Bro claims that some of the 20 million has to go to one of these pads and then he won't have enough left over for me.
Besides the lottery, he's my only hope.
And then I saw this sign on the train that said:
You work hard.
You went to college.
You can't afford health insurance.
Welcome to middle class poverty.
It's for a freelancer's union. I can't remember the name but it's symbol is a beehive with a bee on it. But it was all I could do not to cry right there on the train even though I do have health insurance. Why? I guess 'cause life is so brutal and I'm not up for it. Also, because as poor as I am I can always be poorer (and most likely will be).
Oh, there is poor and then there is so, so, so poor. I'll never get to so, so, so or even so. But it does seem a little pathetic--my immigrant grandparents struggling to better themselves, my father's upper mobility and my slow and slight decline. Still--we did do better. So far.
My brother is very smart. A genius. He's no doubt going to go to an Ivy League school. And even more fancy school than the Ivy League school I went to. However, we cannot assume that this will get him the money. At this moment I know people who went to these colleges who (a) can't afford to live alone (b) in their thirties (c) have no permanent, steady income (d) are way in debt due to a decade of low earning: Harvard, Yale, Oxford, Princeton...Oh, I think there's more. Of course these people are foolish and most also went on to get a Ph.D. and my brother might not be that dumb. But still, I'm not holding my breath for a handout from him unless he takes his ultra-cuteness and turns it into a movie career. And because I was one of those idiots who opted for higher education...a handout from him is the best I can hope for at this point.
The desire to be rich...A sudden aversion to the Bohemian poverty that I had inadvertently courted and which is now to be my permanent fate. I was walking around 5th Avenue with mi hermano though and this may have played a role in the deep dissatisfaction with lower middle classdom.
Because of the hideous Ben I have this idea that my bro could be a movie star and make lots of money and give me some. But the bro claims that no amount of money he could make would ever be enough to give me some. And we were looking in people's windows at their fancy penthouses and drooling over this one building on Broadway. I think it's in the '40s. And I had to fight back tears 'cause of my utter lack of money. Bro claims that some of the 20 million has to go to one of these pads and then he won't have enough left over for me.
Besides the lottery, he's my only hope.
And then I saw this sign on the train that said:
You work hard.
You went to college.
You can't afford health insurance.
Welcome to middle class poverty.
It's for a freelancer's union. I can't remember the name but it's symbol is a beehive with a bee on it. But it was all I could do not to cry right there on the train even though I do have health insurance. Why? I guess 'cause life is so brutal and I'm not up for it. Also, because as poor as I am I can always be poorer (and most likely will be).
Oh, there is poor and then there is so, so, so poor. I'll never get to so, so, so or even so. But it does seem a little pathetic--my immigrant grandparents struggling to better themselves, my father's upper mobility and my slow and slight decline. Still--we did do better. So far.
My brother is very smart. A genius. He's no doubt going to go to an Ivy League school. And even more fancy school than the Ivy League school I went to. However, we cannot assume that this will get him the money. At this moment I know people who went to these colleges who (a) can't afford to live alone (b) in their thirties (c) have no permanent, steady income (d) are way in debt due to a decade of low earning: Harvard, Yale, Oxford, Princeton...Oh, I think there's more. Of course these people are foolish and most also went on to get a Ph.D. and my brother might not be that dumb. But still, I'm not holding my breath for a handout from him unless he takes his ultra-cuteness and turns it into a movie career. And because I was one of those idiots who opted for higher education...a handout from him is the best I can hope for at this point.
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