Relief
Relief
Temporary, but I'm going to enjoy it. Respite, actually. I ran entirely out of money, and ate the refried beans of humiliation for five days. I had two cents & then I found a nickel & had seven. Ran out of everything except tea & coffee (sweet-pea Lee gave me some). I was stealing t.p. from the community center, stuffing a wad in my pocket & then taking it home. I haven't had a cigarette since Friday, but I don't feel any better—only when I go to bed I don't pulsate & thrum—I just feel like the bed is floating.
But waking up to no money is hell. And the Mexicans were out back yakking at 8 a.m. on Sunday & then chipping cement.
I couldn’t stand it. The only mail I got was a complimentary rejection of "Diet." I called Liz's work # at the PSRC & left a message asking if she could loan me $20. I figured if she wasn't around, I'd wait for the mail & — fire up the hibachi. (Can I? All these unattractive alternatives....)
But Liz called me at 9 & I walked down & met her at Westlake & she loaned me $40. Bless her heart. We walked around a bit & talked & then I walked back up the hill. For breakfast I'd had Food Bank bread (3 seed) toasted with mayo on it. Well, she said defensively, it's like eggs, isn't it?
I walked back up the hill & bought my t.p. & peaches (on sale!) & ice cream (on sale!). Now I've been to cafe, the best use of money I know... Now will I buy yogurt or cheese? Cookies? Gum? Will I buy smokes? And read about depression? (No, doctor, depression's not my problem. Discouragement & despair, those are my problems. Failure. Destitution. The artist's lot.)
BM *Bux 7/30/01
Such a Small Thing
Having as opposed to not having money. After Such a Lovely Day yesterday, I'm back to staring Rune-Nation in the grim visage. I admit it, I flinched.
So you know I didn't get any good news in the mail. God, I'm sick of drudgery. I'm sick of my apartment. It backs on those dysfunctional basement people. And even when they aren't round, I'm tired of the same old smell & the light &...I want a change. And nothing's not the change I want.
Still, nothing's a lot better than starvation (or even rice 'n' beans) & homelessness.
Out of self-defense, I'm concentrating on luck & reversals. Hanging on. But once the seed of reckoning is planted, it crowds out all the strange flowers that ordinarily (!) bloom in my amphitheater. (Flowers in an amphitheater?—well, yes, like the ruins of the Coliseum. They have cats there too, I hear. And Roman fever in the night air.)
B.M. Starbux 7/31/01
Sure, I Can Appreciate
I can almost appreciate the perfection of a perfectly awful day. Except today was just evil in the usual tiny ways. (I don't exist!) No mail. My email had a note from Monica at the Fire Dept. saying, Oh, didn't you get a letter? We filled that job in April (which is when I emailed her before). (Assholes)
I wrote-ran-over 1967 & printed it. I spent a dollar on a can of chili. Now a cup of coffee. A candy bar for tomorrow. Is that all? Will that be all?
The weather is cool & that pleases me. My walks are not amusing. It's all the same. I got an email from Guy wanting to meet for coffee—will I be "available" next week?
The boredom of my life here. Tedium to the nth & no amusement. Though walking around Westlake with Liz was rather enjoyable. (Ooh, looka the bums. Looka the tourists.) The phone doesn't ring. My bells don't ring. I'm reading a book about depression & feeling like Julie Andrews.
I'm not going to be broke again. But I think I'd like to come in here tomorrow to say hello/goodbye to Lee.
Back to smoking at night (only 5) – & when I lie down to sleep, I thrum.
BM *Bux 8/1/01
Ambi
If ever person was of two minds, we were. Yes, then no. Improve. No, chuck. One more day. One more day. Always one more day.
Today I got a birthday greeting from my dentist, and then they called to get me to schedule a cleaning.
A cleaning, right. Won't be needing a cleaning where I'm going.
I try not to let it get to me, but of course it gets right to me.
How much help do I need? More than I can expect. Part of me wants it over, and part of me wants to talk to everybody I ever knew. Part of me wishes I'd left long ago.
I looked up my two gardening mags—and see how far beyond long shot they are. One says answers in 6 months. The other likes 750 word articles. Oh.
I would have, I could have...If a job had offered itself, and gained time, but then...
And alas, I owe Elizabeth $40 & won't be able to pay her back. But if I start to beat myself up, I'll never stop.
Ooh where are those policemen? Never around when you need them.
B.M. Starbucks 8/2/01
Temporary, but I'm going to enjoy it. Respite, actually. I ran entirely out of money, and ate the refried beans of humiliation for five days. I had two cents & then I found a nickel & had seven. Ran out of everything except tea & coffee (sweet-pea Lee gave me some). I was stealing t.p. from the community center, stuffing a wad in my pocket & then taking it home. I haven't had a cigarette since Friday, but I don't feel any better—only when I go to bed I don't pulsate & thrum—I just feel like the bed is floating.
But waking up to no money is hell. And the Mexicans were out back yakking at 8 a.m. on Sunday & then chipping cement.
I couldn’t stand it. The only mail I got was a complimentary rejection of "Diet." I called Liz's work # at the PSRC & left a message asking if she could loan me $20. I figured if she wasn't around, I'd wait for the mail & — fire up the hibachi. (Can I? All these unattractive alternatives....)
But Liz called me at 9 & I walked down & met her at Westlake & she loaned me $40. Bless her heart. We walked around a bit & talked & then I walked back up the hill. For breakfast I'd had Food Bank bread (3 seed) toasted with mayo on it. Well, she said defensively, it's like eggs, isn't it?
I walked back up the hill & bought my t.p. & peaches (on sale!) & ice cream (on sale!). Now I've been to cafe, the best use of money I know... Now will I buy yogurt or cheese? Cookies? Gum? Will I buy smokes? And read about depression? (No, doctor, depression's not my problem. Discouragement & despair, those are my problems. Failure. Destitution. The artist's lot.)
BM *Bux 7/30/01
Such a Small Thing
Having as opposed to not having money. After Such a Lovely Day yesterday, I'm back to staring Rune-Nation in the grim visage. I admit it, I flinched.
So you know I didn't get any good news in the mail. God, I'm sick of drudgery. I'm sick of my apartment. It backs on those dysfunctional basement people. And even when they aren't round, I'm tired of the same old smell & the light &...I want a change. And nothing's not the change I want.
Still, nothing's a lot better than starvation (or even rice 'n' beans) & homelessness.
Out of self-defense, I'm concentrating on luck & reversals. Hanging on. But once the seed of reckoning is planted, it crowds out all the strange flowers that ordinarily (!) bloom in my amphitheater. (Flowers in an amphitheater?—well, yes, like the ruins of the Coliseum. They have cats there too, I hear. And Roman fever in the night air.)
B.M. Starbux 7/31/01
Sure, I Can Appreciate
I can almost appreciate the perfection of a perfectly awful day. Except today was just evil in the usual tiny ways. (I don't exist!) No mail. My email had a note from Monica at the Fire Dept. saying, Oh, didn't you get a letter? We filled that job in April (which is when I emailed her before). (Assholes)
I wrote-ran-over 1967 & printed it. I spent a dollar on a can of chili. Now a cup of coffee. A candy bar for tomorrow. Is that all? Will that be all?
The weather is cool & that pleases me. My walks are not amusing. It's all the same. I got an email from Guy wanting to meet for coffee—will I be "available" next week?
The boredom of my life here. Tedium to the nth & no amusement. Though walking around Westlake with Liz was rather enjoyable. (Ooh, looka the bums. Looka the tourists.) The phone doesn't ring. My bells don't ring. I'm reading a book about depression & feeling like Julie Andrews.
I'm not going to be broke again. But I think I'd like to come in here tomorrow to say hello/goodbye to Lee.
Back to smoking at night (only 5) – & when I lie down to sleep, I thrum.
BM *Bux 8/1/01
Ambi
If ever person was of two minds, we were. Yes, then no. Improve. No, chuck. One more day. One more day. Always one more day.
Today I got a birthday greeting from my dentist, and then they called to get me to schedule a cleaning.
A cleaning, right. Won't be needing a cleaning where I'm going.
I try not to let it get to me, but of course it gets right to me.
How much help do I need? More than I can expect. Part of me wants it over, and part of me wants to talk to everybody I ever knew. Part of me wishes I'd left long ago.
I looked up my two gardening mags—and see how far beyond long shot they are. One says answers in 6 months. The other likes 750 word articles. Oh.
I would have, I could have...If a job had offered itself, and gained time, but then...
And alas, I owe Elizabeth $40 & won't be able to pay her back. But if I start to beat myself up, I'll never stop.
Ooh where are those policemen? Never around when you need them.
B.M. Starbucks 8/2/01
posted by K. E. Ellingson at 4:07 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home