Posts Tagged ‘poverty’

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

March 23, 2012

Editor:  And!  If you’ve been wondering what Rita has been up to:

Rita Tries to Stay Calm and Act in an Even-Handed Way, But…

“My last roommate was Jewish. You see after I had a schizophrenic roommate who thought Jews were after him, I decided to find a Jewish roommate. Because if a race of people is after conspiracy theorists like that guy, than they all must be good people. Well, now I understand why the Germans were so easily persuaded by Hitler during the World War II.

My first mistake was not making him fill out a rental agreement, where I’d have to specify EVERYTHING – like: he inspected everything very carefully and is happy with the conditions of the place and the price, he promises to vacate immediately in case of conflict, he promises to clean up after himself or vacate without argument, etc.

The first morning of his stay he started bickering about the price! He argued relentlessly and managed to get the price down a whole $50. Even when I pointed out that I don’t think we’ll get along, because he, obviously, didn’t respect me, since he didn’t clean up after himself the very first morning, which is why I don’t want to rent to him at all, no matter at what price, he still stayed and got the discount! (Anyone knows how I can join Arial Brotherhood?)

During his stay he’d argue and argue and argue about everything until you give in, or get mad and call the cops, who will only make you feel like a fool and tell you that you should grin and bear it and go in your room and let him make messes with my stuff, because he has the legal right to stay and use the kitchen until you legally go through eviction process. So the cops left, and B. continued to spill grease and crumbs all over the stove and kitchen counters, to never clean the toilet or the manly urine fog forming on the wall by the toilet (now, he said his contribution to the bathroom cleaning was that he never took showers),  he’d decide to cook at 11pm and make noises and disgusting food smells, and he kept me up all night until 4am discussing stupid stuff, then he kept my guest up all night talking to him until 4am, which totally ruined my plans for the evening. 

And thus he lived on, cooking smelly, greasy meats and sausages, waking me up by the smell and noise as early as 7am and taking forever, like 3 whole hours to cook and eat his breakfast! He kept on using my toilet paper and napkins for two month, until I finally had to ask him to buy his own and keep yours where he can’t get to it. 
He showed me no respect for being his elder and better educated, and he would not be able to take constructing criticism at all, trying to make me look bad instead, like: “What do you mean your cookie sheet is covered with grease and black thick soot? where? Oh, that, oh it’s nothing. Why do you make such a big deal of a little thing like that! You are unreasonably picky! So what i didn’t notice it. What’s the big deal….” These conversations could go on until the cows come home, until I stopped talking to him and went to my near-room. Naturally, I preferred avoiding him and leaving him notes: “Please flush the toilet, you left poop in it second day in a row… You left crumbs and grease on the kitchen counter again!” to which he emailed me, “Stop leaving me stupid notes, I’m not going to read them anyway.”
He thinks he is god’s gift to women. Ugh. So he brought wine over one evening and tried to get me drunk, in the hope that I’d see him the way he sees himself after a few glasses. I don’t know what he’d do if I actually got drunk, I never got that far and kept my wits about, nursing the same glass, but I sure wouldn’t want to find out… He got drunk, however, and proceeded to take off his shirt, saying, “I want you’re woman’s opinion, is the hair on my back attractive?” and posed his upper half, with a 3/4 turn and flexing his biceps. I was actually diplomatic in my response, “Just because I hate hairy backs doesn’t mean that there are women out there who love them.” Eventually, at about 2am I ran out of patience and had to yell at him and threaten to call the cops to chase him away from me and into his room.

He finally left yesterday morning, not without a great fuss and ado the night before about some plastic measuring cups of his that I hid, and that I was a bitch, and a wretched woman, so I called the cops, who were very annoyed with me for calling them again and made me pay B. $3 for the cups. I stayed up all night listening to music, drinking beer and smoking, hoping it would disturb his last night’s sleep a little. After a while I felt a little bad, and put a rolled up towel under his door. I shouldn’t have bothered – he didn’t notice or didn’t care, and was his usual asshole self in the morning.

I can’t believe he’d actually fix his stupid breakfast despite the fact that I sat next to the kitchen smoking a cigarette! Any normal human being would just leave and splurge on eating out this one time.

He left a broken egg on the kitchen floor, refusing to clean it up on purpose, and played a fucked up head game with me about whether he would return my keys or not while he cooked his crap.

What is it about all those minority groups – they bitch when you stereotype them, but then behave in the exact manner they so hate people to accuse them of?”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

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From the Editor’s Perch

January 17, 2012

 …Unfulfilled Dreams…

Editor’s Note:  Well!  Hollywood has finally caught up to what we’ve been discussing here, and starring, no less than… Robert DeNiro!

And now, the Movie…

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/risky-business/being-flynn-trailer-robert-de-niro-261669

From the Editor’s Perch

January 8, 2012
And No Money for a Beer

“Artistic Failure in America”

I take this title from a blog of the same name.  Here’s a post to get you started:  http://www.artisticfailure.com/category/artists-who-fall-through-the-cracks/

I especially enjoyed some other articles on this blog about “grizzled artists” – what happens to artists as they get older?

By far the largest percentage of artists are financially unsuccessful.  (Can you holler?  “We are the 99.999999…%!”)  In a society moving so quickly that it’s hindering to stop and puzzle over anything , artists can be slow off the mark.  Artistic endeavor tends to be quite introverted.  Couple that with failure – or just an initial ‘failure to launch’ – and you have the recipe for a mesmerizing dance which can pull an artistic mind downward, occupying  its thoughts for years.  Or, you become successful! for whatever reason, and go on some crazy, lunatic’s getaway of fifteen minutes with the Bitch Goddess.

Better to rush headlong than to be left behind!  Or.  Stay awhile.  Look around.  Get creative.  Think your way out of this.  Failure and success are both interesting mysteries.  Artists worship mystery and often find themselves caught like clouds of gnats buzzing in the darkness of those hot summer nights around the mesmerizing effect of those glittering imponderables… often wondering  if they should continue on in the cultural buzz, or just fall out of the air.  Thinking, while at the bar with another cold one,  ‘this all made sense, when I dreamed it.’

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

December 23, 2011

Editor:  I ask Rita if she had something for us, for Christmas.  She replied that she was busy sending cards and making presents.  But then offered us this link to her “Learn Russian like a native…” website – and a story about a Christmas Tree.

I Meet a Christmas Tree

Travelling Expenses

November 26, 2011
Paul Eenhoorn as ‘Pops’ Marigold

 

PART TWO

“This is part two. The tough part…

To my family and friends.

In 2008 two contractors I sold remodels for went bankrupt owing me around $30,000 one of the companies was my employer. I spent the next year and more unemployed as a lot of us did. During that period I spent time at the Muckleshoot Casino killing time. I actually won a fair amount and banked the money.

Over the last couple of years I have had a lot of dead end job starts and now finally work for a good company in the roofing industry. For various reasons I had been personally depressed for so long that the casino was the only other place apart from film sets and writing, where I could lose my feelings of pain. The reasons for that depression is a a whole other story and I suppose it’s a part of life.

The problem is that I became a compulsive gambler. All prudence left me and all sense of awareness for my actions as well as losing touch with reality. I have wasted so much and I was so ashamed that I spent my time shooting in Reno this month figuring out a way to end it all. The Reno shoot put me up in Harrah’s Hotel Casino so you can imagine how well that went.

In the end I called the gamblers help line and they referred me to a therapist who could help me. I will figure out why I have this self defeating behavior that is killing me. This addiction has destroyed my marriage as Stephanie can’t trust me after this, It has hurt my family, It has harmed my friends and screwed my reputation. It is so hard to explain this addiction that is so effectively destructive.

I am not looking for pity, I am looking for a place to start rebuilding, a reason to keep going. I am so sorry!” – Paul

Photo by Carl Nelson

Travelling Expenses

November 25, 2011

Editor’s Note:  Paul Eenhoorn is a quite noted/respected  actor about town and has a lot of varied experience to offer us.  He also writes quite well.  He’s suffered a few setbacks of late which he shared on Facebook.  Experiences he has written about with poignancy.  Which are unique – and also quite familiar, more or lessto the mass of us laboring in the Arts.  So I invited him to write a bit more about it here: about real life in the Arts.  My provisional title for Paul’s Column comes from the poem by Vladimir Mayakovsky:

“Citizen!

Consider my travelling expenses:

Poetry –

all of it –

is a journey to the Unknown.”

Paul Eenhoorn Playing “Pops” Marigold for TV

PART ONE 

“Back from Two weeks shooting in Reno!! It was a tough but rewarding shoot. Spent the two weeks depressed mostly.

I run on cash flow as being unemployed or underemployed over the past three years has cost us dearly. I really thought more money would be in by now from my new found sales job.

This year started auspiciously when Steph spent ten days in Overlake over Christmas with a spinal infection which we thought was a pulled muscle. By the time we got her to Overlake the doctors had a hard time controlling a blood infection. She was in really bad shape. Then there were the antibiotic transfusions for the next three months. Needless too say this all set us back even though we were insured. Also in the last year as a result of this recession we nearly lost our home and were lucky to get a loan modification.

I was talking to a close friend yesterday who has been through life and he said I should tell people about my life. I am not looking for sympathy I am in this situation and that’s all it is.

Also in the last year I shot four feature films, a TV pilot, various corporate shoots, a web show, a handful of shorts. For all that work I have earned $3000.00 most of it from corporate shoots. For that I have made myself available for friends who needed me and framed my life to accommodate the industry in Seattle. No wonder Steph looks at me and presumes me insane. My thoughts of ending this life had became so overpowering that I take anti depressants to help keep me up. It’s really hard to know you have what it takes, (based upon the feedback of others), chase the goal, frame your life to accommodate it and still try to make some sort of living in a recession. I know there are others in this place I am in who have similar pain; they have shared it with me.

I drive a beaten up Ford Windstar because I own it and it keeps running. Oh yeah I am really enjoying the fruits of my labor. I can’t even pay my phone bill, boy am I stupid.

Then there was the 55 days of the campaign on Room 13 full time at insane hours that netted me a princely sum and a whole lot of stress that I am still carrying.

I have a handful of friends that I know are my friends people like Ricco, Ross, Ernie, Richard, Andy, Becka, Aria, who actually call me on their old fashioned Cell Phone, just to say Hi, not because they want anything. Yet there are people I have done work for (unpaid of course) who won’t even return a phone call. I have a lot of shortcomings and I work on them daily. I might be stupid, imprudent, and too optimistic, with bad habits, but i try to stay loyal to friends.

To everyone who has helped Room 13 thanks. I love you all , all of you in this town who work against odds that a blind man could see are insurmountable; yet away we toil. Someone show me a brick wall that I can beat my head against. I obviously love pain.”  – Paul

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

October 21, 2011

How to Get Rid of Cockroaches

Editor’s Note:  Rita is being paid by the landlord $25.00/tenant to talk to the people in her apartment building about the cockroach problem.  What I’m saying is, you’re dealing with a professional here.

“First, I suggest getting a possum as a pet. Possums hunt cockroaches.  I tried to find some baby possums on craigslist, but no one has any. I’m sure they would be great – people have rats and ferrets as pets, so why not a possum. I would try recruiting some homeless bum to try to catch a pregnant possum.

No other animal likes to eat cockroaches. In fact, my cat made friends with them. When i caught some in a jar trap, Iris meowed, asking me to let them out, and when I wouldn’t, she tipped over the jar and let them out herself.

To make a cockroach trap:  get an empty bottle or a jar, put some peanut butter on the bottom, smear some butter on the inside neck of the bottle so the bugs can’t climb out, and put the trap wherever you see cockroaches. It works great, and it is completely free.

Tribal Rituals?

Sometimes I feel bad killing them – they act so intelligently. A couple of times a large old cockroach came to meet me and just sat there on the wall, right in front of my face, staring at me and wiggling his whiskers; I believe he was sent as an ambassador to try to make some sort of a deal, but, you know the saying, “don’t shoot the messenger”…
Interestingly, each time it was a large old male cockroach trying to approach me. That could mean that is possible that they have like an old wise cockroach like a shaman or something that attempts to communicate to humans. Or it could be some ritual, where the biggest and the bravest of males goes to take on a human. It could also be rule: like a cockroach tribe leader is asked to go talk to a human after a certain time of being a leader – that could be a way for them to keep the tribe from becoming a dictatorship and to rotate the leaders. There is, of course, another possibility – that those male cockroaches were attracted to me and were asking me out…”  – Rita

Drawing by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

September 12, 2011

Crime Scene Evidentiaries

While examining the scene of the purported crime, police noted the following objects – which Rita tells me she is willing to sell to collectors.  All are free of blood.

These painted rocks are $3-5 each, depending upon size.
 

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

September 11, 2011

Police are Called!

furthest adventure in the Near-Room

Photo Taken Out of Context / Professional Actor

“The night before last J.B. called 911 at about 3:30 – 4 in the morning, he took his laptop and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. I was woken up by loud talking and the light from the bathroom. (Just to remind you – I live in the near-room now and rent the real room.) So I poked my head from behind the curtain to see what all the commotion was about and saw J.B. standing in the bathroom with the door wide open talking shit about me on the phone to someone. I yelled at him, “What do you think you’re doing! Cut the crap!” He looked at me with hatred and continued into the phone, “…Of course, she’ll deny all of this, she is a very good actress…” I realized that I couldn’t do a damn thing about him, he was just going to have to rant it out, whatever it was. I went back to bed, put on my earphones and the cloth across my eyes and tried to ignore J.B. A few minutes there was a loud knocking on the door. J.B. opened the door and let in 2 policemen and one policewoman in. I came out of the near-room in my skimpy pajamas. The policewoman took me out in the hallway in my skimpy pajamas (tiny pink shorts and a tank top, no bra) and started explaining that J.R. called 911 because there was blood in the bathtub. I stared at her in disbelief, “And you came out because of that! Gees! I have a period, so there might have been a drop of blood in the bathtub I missed.” She nodded, “Yes, I understand, but he was saying you were threatening him…” I listened to J.R. raising his voice inside the apartment, “You should arrest her! She is evil! She left the blood there on purpose!” I giggled. The policeman came out, “This isn’t funny!” Two black elderly people wobbled across the hallway to their apartment, looking at us over the shoulder. I waved to them and smiled. The policewoman with bushy black mustache went inside the apartment and exclaimed, “Wow! Look at what’s in the chair!” Everyone turned to her. “What is it now?” I asked wearily. “It’s a huge cat! Just look at that huge cat!” I sighed in relief, “Yeah, that’s my kitty.” One of the policemen went to look and said, “That’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen!” The other policeman, the one who didn’t think I should have giggled, with a shaved head and a neck and a mean look in his eyes, never bothered to look at the huge cat. He had no time for that – all business and no play. He proceeded to tell me, “Your roommate maybe crazy, but he has rights. You should clean up after yourself and not make him upset, because the next time we come out, one of you is going to jail…” I looked at him defiantly, “Are you threatening me! You have no right, I didn’t do anything, you got me out of bed in the middle of the night!” He softened his manner slightly, “I did tell him that he should find another place to live, but he doesn’t legally have to, so I’m only saying, be careful with him, don’t say anything that could be threatening…”
After the police left I was furious, so I immediately went to my computer and disconnected the wireless router and locked it in a safe. If that jerk is going to call 911 because of a dirty bathroom drain in the middle of the night every night, I’d be damned if he is using my internet anymore.
That must have done it, because he gathered his stuff and left after he woke up sometimes in late afternoon. I was out, I went for a long walk, so I was deliriously happy to come home and to find the big bedroom empty and the keys on the table. Yahoo! Freedom, probably short-lived, but sweet!
Sorry, Jewish people, you missed your chance to pay me to spy on J.B.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

Work, work, work… with Rita Andreeva

September 11, 2011

Further Adventures in the Near-Room

Some Tenants Just Have to Go

Editor’s Note: The further adventures of our aging artist Rita, as she struggles to make ends meet in various ways, while continuing to work. If you would like to read some of Rita’s plays, just click on the Rita’s Plays link to the right. They are every bit as eventful as her life.

“My current roommate J.B. is a paranoid schizophrenic. He believes that there is a Jewish conspiracy to take over the world.
The other day I came home and he said that someone opened a little cover on the back of his computer to try to get to the hard drive. For some reason the cover wasn’t put back neatly. J.B. immediately assumed that I did that. He said, “It would make perfect sense, that you would accept a $500 payment from the Jews to let them inside the apartment to mess with my computer while I was in the shower!” You see, he takes his laptop with him when he goes out, and when he sleeps, he locks the door from the inside, so the only time someone could have messed with his computer is when he was in the shower, which happens at about 3 am. Now he takes his laptop into the bathroom when he goes to take a shower.
Hey, if anyone knows any Jews who’d pay $500 to spy on my roommate, please let me know! I wasn’t aware there was that much money in it. He says he has a lot of information about how Jews caused 911. I asked him, “Didn’t you get all that ‘information’ off internet?” He said, “Yes, but…” And I said, “So you know nothing, in other words, other than what everyone has access to…” But he kept insisting that Jews would still want to get to his computer, if anything, because they hate him and want him to eat shit and die.

 

Anyway, I gave J.B. a 2-week notice, at which he went into a tirade that he is going to sue me for a million, because I was spying on him, and that 2-week notice isn’t legal, that it has to be a month’s notice, and that he wants to see my bank statements to see if there is a payment from the Jews… The thing is, the notice is up to the day that he paid. Then I added that in case he needs an extension he can pay me $20 per day in cash after that date. To which he threatened to sue again, because how dare I ask for more money. So I said, “It’s more money to compensate me for all this drama dealing with you,” and, “Seriously, you think I’m a spy and a mean person, so why on earth would you want to live here?”
He said, “I don’t, but I have a problem finding a place…”
Obviously, anywhere he goes people want to kick him out after a short time.

 

Hello, any Jews out there who want to spy on my roommate for $500? Please let me know.”  – Rita

Photo by Carl Nelson

 


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