THE WYMAN, WEAKLY

Underemployed. Unattached. Unimpressed.

Issue 49 April 25, 1997

 

 

 

April is National Poetry Month. Now if I could just find a word that rhymes with month.

 

SANCTUARY

 

I wrote this while listening to The J. Geils Band Anthology: Houseparty. Forget yer Prozac, positive thinking, pills, booze, love, whatever. When it comes to bringing yourself out of a funk, pop one of these two discs into your CD player and turn it up. This is fun blues, r&b, and rock ‘n’ roll music that is smart and played smartly. It’ll get your toes tapping and you might even dance around your living room. What a blast. Anyway, I’m not depressed as I write this, but I woke up around eleven thirty this morning still feeling the residual effects of those Summit Pale Ales that I was drinking with The God of Rock ‘n’ Roll at Chang O’Hara’s thirty-six hours prior. I was worried about a day-long headache (you know: what the? I paid my price yesterday.) But after a cup of joe and a listening to Geils busting out with “Sno-Cone” and “Wait”, I was feeling healthy and ready to slack a day away.

 

BETTER OFF DEAD

 

Getting of off the bus on Eighth and Hennepin, I walk by the Musicland store, which has been there for ages. The one with brutal attempts at likenesses of Joplin, Marley, Lennon, and Orbison above its storefront. I’ve never been in this store, for years I walked into the Northern Lights across the street. Flash back to a hot summer’s eve in ‘92 - me: can I drink my pop in here? cute clerk: you sure can, just don’t spill. The first time I saw a censorship - I mean warning - sticker on an album was on The Clash’s London Calling in a Musicland store. And that was before the sleazy record industry backed down to our-now second lady (please somebody tell me how progressive Al Gore is, I could use the laugh...) and her cronies and put those parental warning stickers on albums. From Northern Lights, I ordered a twelve-inch single of the Replacements’ “I Will Dare” (on the flip side were covers of T. Rex and Hank Williams songs) and didn’t see censorship stickers in that store until the record industry totally caved in. Yeah, Wyman doesn’t like a big music chain, so what. But it’s not just me, you must understand. My main man Joel once turned down a temp job working at a Musicland warehouse. A matter of principle, he told the agency. That’s called having big ones. So anyway, I’m walking by the store and across the street Northern Lights is closed, has been for quite a while they couldn’t keep up with the big boys and you might say tough luck but you try ordering a long-play single at Best Buy and see what they say. I look into the store, hoping to see a poster of the Spice Girls, that would make my morning, just seeing them and not hearing them. And the poster on the window says THIS MUSICLAND STORE HAS CLOSED. I immediately look for someone to high five.

 

ALWAYS READ ON THE BUS

 

Way back in issue #30 (I love mentioning back issues - it makes me feel like I’m writing for Marvel comics) I mentioned talking to a girl on the bus about Trainspotting. This week on the bus she sat next to me one morning, said hi and then starting talking about The English Patient. I explained that I have never seen that movie. She thought we had discussed it before, but I informed her that we had talked about Trainspotting. What I didn’t say was that I don’t like movies about English patients or movies about English patience (you know - starring Helena Bonham Carter and Anthony Hopkins and a big mansion with a big yard.) How do you tell a girl you prefer movies about drug-addled Scots?

 

HOW NOT TO MAKE A CAREER CHOICE

 

So the director of accounting at Big Health tells me that she’d like me to work there permanently. You show a little bit of competence here, a flash of brilliance there, smile when you talk to people, and you get a kinda-job-offer. And I even considered working there. Jeans every day. Babes work there. Three weeks of vacation a year. Health insurance paid for. Free email. But you can’t put a price on some things. Always remember that, dear readers.

 

I guess a reason for me to not work at this place permanently is that the position they had me in mind for is something called an analyst. Who wants a job whose title starts out with “anal?” Not me. Plus, I guess I just have a problem working in the health care (I keep it two words, although I’ve been seeing the word “healthcare” a lot lately) industry. Is it just me, or is there something wrong with so many people making so much money off of sick and injured people? So what I want to do (but I won’t because I’m chickenshit) my last day there is wear a teeshirt that says something like PUBLIC HEALTH INSURANCE or maybe SOCIALIZED MEDICINE, which would be a cool name for a band if I ever started one. Either that or The New Morality. Or Gino Gasparini. Notice it’s okay for me to work temp at such a place, though. I’m the first to admit that I’m a walking contradiction.

 

If you are concerned with having a career, getting ahead, and maximizing your money-earning potential; do the OPPOSITE of the following if you are about to make a career decision: You’ve got to have some Grain Belt (substitute whatever vice you wish) in your fridge, for starters. When in doubt, take a nap; but if you’re not too terribly sleepy, you may want to crack open a cold one to get you in the mood to piss away all your precious analytical and business acumen. Alright, the mood has been set. Now you need a soundtrack. You’re making a nondecision, you’re saying no, you’re walking away, and when they make the movie of your life they’ve got to have some righteous music to set the mood. So here’s my favorite Fuck Having a Career Songs: “Clampdown” by the Clash (the men in the factory are old and kind they don’t owe nothing boy get running it’s the best years of your life they want to steal), “I Don’t Know” by the Replacements (whatya going to do with your life? nothing!!), and “You Can’t Have Me” by Big Star (repeat chorus.)

 

But all this tough talk and no job offer has ever been on the table. The vp of money probably put the kabosh on the whole idea anyway. Way back in January, I was wrapping up my first project and they were thinking of projects I could work on. There was something that needed to be investigated and fixed in the payroll ledgers, and the vp said “looks like an opportunity for improvement.” And you know how Homer Simpson’s brain will talk to him and Homer says what his brain is thinking instead of saying the correct thing? Well, I heard the words “opportunity for improvement” and I said “wowwww” real slow and then the vp gave me a funny look and walked away. So anyway, if there’s no offer I don’t have to say no thanks. But it’s always fun to practice saying no thanks. At least that’s what I like to think. Biggest fear: offer of a part-time job and I go through all this again.

 

SOMETIME TO RETURN

 

This will be the last issue of The Wyman Weekly. I’m selling it to Disney. Just kidding. I am going to come out with a revamped zine in a few weeks. It won’t come out weekly, so it will accordingly have a different name (definitely - because to continue to call something a weekly that doesn’t come out weekly would be like adding a team to the Big Ten and still calling it the Big Ten.) It will have a different format (probably), and will be just as self-absorbed and rambling as this one (of course.) I foresee it coming out every 3-5 weeks. You will all get free grand-reopening copies of the next issue, which will probably be labeled issue #50 mostly because, dammit, I don’t want to start all over at issue #1 again. Thanks for reading and for all the correspondence and feedback. And thank you falettinme be mice elf again.