Life Among the Dirty: Continuation

God fucking damn it that shit's hilarious

2. Good things bring good things bring good things and so on. The first step is to leave the house.

Me

A clear hint that you’re on the right track pretending to be a stage technician is that people pass your co-ordinates on. They could praise you into heaven and be lying, but when you get a call from an unknown number with a job offering because their relations were satisfied with your work? Priceless. Nothing like it.

I’ve begun to notice that it doesn’t necessarily work in a linear fashion as described above. Lately I’ve been working for city-wide art festivals, theater tours and old friends, and as it turns out, some of the many people I’ve met seem to know each other because I keep hearing that I got recommended amongst each other!

There’s one job I had to regretfully refuse recently as as they began calling around for a technician and first thing they got was, “Try Maarten De Pue, I worked with him recently.” That was a job in Brussels! I’m not one to toot my own horn but you know what?

Toot.

In line with this trend, I got to spend some time with “De Vieze Gasten”, the Dirty Guys if you will, last summer. Insisting on doing the project there, part of a larger festival, was a good move because upon spotting me, they offered the job of filling in for the head technician while he’s on vacation to Mexico to witness the end of the world from the front row, arm in arm with the Inca’s –or at least the generation gullible enough to fall for that shit.

So this December, you’ll find me frantically working my ass off to impress the greatest bunch of people in the world so that they, should they ever have a job opening, will remember my name and number. Because regardless of how much I loathe the idea of a full-time job, there’s no place I’d rather get it than there.

It’s endearing how easily they accept and trust me. I haven’t really worked there since my internship spring 2011, or even done light for music gigs for that matter. And they’re like, “You remember how it works, right? Well I’ll be off now, see you in hell byyeeeee!” They didn’t leave me the technical details of the upcoming events or anything.

But, that’s fine. It’s all fine. Because I’m there again, and it’s like coming home. The logical madness and slightly insane -though competent- employees make me feel I can be a valuable contribution regardless of social skill, and the organization’s social engagement with the poorest neighborhood in the city allows me to make a positive difference doing what I do best. So yeah I kinda like it there.

I was a pretty lazy, useless kid but nowadays working is about the only thing I’m halfway decent at. It makes me useful and thus appreciated, so it’s no surprise I would spend every waking moment doing it if I so could. I’m still seeking a balance between it and some kind of social life, but at least the balance with what remains of my ideals (I’m not working for a multinational for a change) is kept, even strengthened.
What a fucking marvel. What a fucking shame that it is.
I think I’ll import my girlfriend and live with the Dirty until the world really ends.

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