Thursday, June 16, 2005

i'm sorry lee, but you suck

my favorite bitter brooklyner is back at it again, ruining perfectly good places by writing lousy articles and committing the crime of shallow observation. lee is an acquaintance of mine from the good old days, but unlike some other actual successful writers, lee pretty much blows.

lee loves to write puff pieces where he talks about how pretty the middle east is, how the people are just so nice! and believe is or not, those cities can be quite civilized, my god, they even have decent wine! he and his cat holed up in cairo around the corner from me and his dour face was enough to bring down any party. to quote a former roommate when questioned about his time with lee: "that's true, i was friends with him. but then i realized he was unconscionably objectable, so i stopped."

perhaps another reason i dislike lee is personal. i mean, yes, i could toss off reviews of elissar in my sleep, but come on, that is hardly the best of the damascene scene. maybe if his arabic was a little more polished it would help him navigate those cities he loves to play imperialist in just a bit better. anyway, personal. anyone who shacks up with this character (and hack) is bound to be unloved.

briefly: JG was a roommate. he skipped on the rent, sat on the back porch smoking marlboro reds and where his presence helped get the little twelve year old girl who lived on the roof next door beaten every time she went into his line of sight, having the effect of confining her to the dark plywood structure. he verbally abused, then assaulted our wonderful, kind housekeeper chazly, who then was perfectly right in leaving us, sorrowfully, yet making the very valid point he couldn't work in a house where he wasn't respected. all over jason misplacing a piece of paper with a phone number and then flying into a rage when chazly couldn't find it.

jason was summarily evicted from our residence following that incident, but we took a week getting the locks changed and i woke up one morning to find him in the house, claiming he'd forgotten things. he left empty handed. this of course didn't stop him from interfering in our lives.

he flew to damascus to 'do a story' which was never published. he was supposed to meet my boyfriend who was living there at the time, but my old flame, who liked jg about as much as an enema, stood him up. so jg got my ex's number, called him and told him i was slutting around with some tourist back in cairo. lies, lies, lies. luckily the boy was a sweetheart and didn't believe a word out of the scumbucket's mouth.

anyone who lives with someone like that... not only can the man not write with an ounce of style or panache, but you know what your mother said about the company you keep.


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