I am inexplicably queasy this morning. End of summer migraine weirdness. It is a Monday in August of a year in which our cultural and societal debt is being referred to third party collections and our planet is on the verge of being repossessed by the forces of nature. It’s a scary time to be alive, I guess. Yet somehow we persist. Maybe out of a desire to see what happens next. How can we possibly get ourselves out of this mess. Tune in next week to see…
Went to a bar last night to meet some friends. Witnessed a male air force officer and a woman in a black pantsuit nearly get into a fistfight over the war. Not the rightness or wrongness of it, either. They were arguing over whether the air force officer at the bar or the woman’s air force officer husband had “done more for the cause of freedom.” Incidentally, I wonder how the woman hoped to further the cause of freedom by hanging out in a bar displaying ample cleavage and hanging all over a man who was NOT her husband while said husband is overseas fighting “for freedom.” Anyway, as the two of them sparred I tried to offer myself as a sacrificial lamb, but no one bit:
“I’m against the war ENTIRELY! I voted for Gore! I was against the last Gulf war also!”
One tries to do one’s part…
George W. Bush wants to “spread freedom” like it’s some kind of virus. The election’s in a dead heat. I can’t believe it’s a dead heat. I can’t believe people can’t see through this guy. I overheard a woman at work in the bathroom yesterday saying she was a registered Democrat, but she’d vote for Bush because she’d “heard John Kerry was a flipflopper on issues.” She heard it somewhere, probably didn’t even know what was meant by it and chose to change her vote on such a flimsy basis as that. What the hell is wrong with people? Why are Americans so willfully ignorant? Maybe the voters deserve what they get. Maybe it’s time to move to Canada.
… my goose is cooked – the fat lady has sung – the devil wants his due, etc. My life has persisted in becoming a nightmare of Jobian proportions and now on top of the job layoff followed by loss of income, followed by loss of transportation and a job offer way too far away to take the bus to, followed by fumigation and possible threat to my ability to maintain custody of my children,followed by the unexpectedly and seriously delayed paycheck that forced me to borrow $700 from my ex to pay rent and the electric bill, it now appears I am going to be evicted. There was a slim chance I could have worked out a solution, but then my ex put a stop payment on the rent check since I was “going to be evicted anyway, so why waste $500?” So now I have a health and safety dispute over the fumigation issue, plus I’m in arrears. I am so fucked. I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping this weekend, much less when I get to keep the girls next. I was already two weeks behind schedule for getting “my week” of custody due to the above mentioned issues and it was making me nuts. If I lose my girls I will die. Fuck. I am so screwed. Anyone who knows me well enough to have my phone number should probably call me asap. I’m not sure how or if you can help, but I need all the help I can get right now. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Don’t ever say “it can’t get worse.” It can always get worse. And it probably always will.
There’s an episode of “Friends” in which one of the characters is so frightened by a Stephen King novel that the book has to be put in the freezer. A friend of mine told me recently that they threw a copy of “The Shining” into the desert because it bothered them that much. While I myself am not a great Stephen King fan per se, I’ve been reading one of his books and I’ve come to the point where I think it needs to go into the freezer. Only it isn’t a horror novel at all. It’s “On Writing” which is part advice manual, part autobiographical epistle and overall a very sincere and insightful bit of nonfiction. But the postscript, or rather the idea of it, is terrifying me a bit. It’s about his accident. And I know I should read it. I have a feeling it would be good for me to read it. But I’m kind of scared to. So I think I’m going to put the book in the freezer for just a little while.
Just when I’m thinking it couldn’t get any worse, the date creeps on me and I realize there are people who have suffered in much worse ways, like having to choose between jumping to a certain death and incinerating in an office building. So perhaps I shouldn’t sit here and feel sorry for myself anymore.