When I'm Feeling Bad
When I'm Feeling Bad
When I'm feeling bad about having to "receive" all those brain-damaged losers at the Probation Office, I think, "Well, at least I don't have to make them Frappucinos." And feel much better.
I tell this to Lee & he laughs, but not very hard.
It's been 2 weeks since I've written, and what have I achieved? $900, so there.
Family picnic last weekend. I haven't written about it because there wasn't much to tell. The best thing was the frog that appeared in the sink like a tiny green sorcerer. Karen's frog. The worst thing was the drive back, a crawl from about Tacoma Mall to practically Federal Way. In between was food & no swimming because they'd put poison in the lake. Karen had some complication from her tonsillectomy & was back in the hospital. Caro tells me K. & Ted are fighting loudly & often. The folks talked about buying Aunt Olive's property. The consensus seemed to be "why?" except I didn't have even that much of an opinion.
The job at Probation has been, as I expected, awful. My shoulder & left arm have been kicking up. I'm sure from stress.
Nothing seems very hopeful.
BM *Bux, Sunday 8/26/01
What's Left
What's left to write about, if I put the various & original forms of torture endured at the Probation Dept. behind me?
A dull malaise that I hope will be gone tomorrow? The pains in my finger joints? The woman who stopped traffic on the ship canal bridge & then jumped? No, just a fractured spine & internal injuries.
I could have told her to go down to the Narrows or up to Deception Pass. We like the idea of water – it accepts your remains. Less mess.
So, what am I going to do?
I had a dream about F. last night. This time the wife was not in the picture. Yes, that old time smut, as real as life. And then I woke up & found it was all a dream.
I like waking up at 1 on weekend nights—I have another whole lifetime of sleep still to come.
Every so often I think about having a cat & I feel desolate. Not sad. Desolate. I need more. More time. More money. More ideas & more time (to jot them down). More love. Some love.
A decent haircut. I almost got some sort of one today, but there were 4 people ahead of me & of the 3 cutters, one was the guy who gave me the dork cut last time. And if I asked him to give me a Joan of Arc haircut, he'd probably throw a match on my head.
I made a sort of friend at work. A depressed middle-aged women – only not wet like Jane from Personnel. I try to cheer her up – with that job, no wonder she's not happy. But I won't go see Macbeth with her. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings refusing (better to nip these unlikely friendships in the bud). But I hate all this (socializing), and I’m supposed to go to Bob's birthday party next weekend.
The trouble is, you gather a bunch of people within rooms, I despise them & all the noise they make. I prefer intelligence to bonhomie.
BM Starbucks 9/1/01
"Wachet Auf” on the clarinet & violin
And the Asian girl in the baseball hat saying hello? hello? hello? hello? into her cellphone. I'd like to declare the premises cellphone & baseball hat free.
Now they are playing something 19th century, French or Russian full orchestra & chock-full of notes. I don't quite cringe because after all, it's not Frank Sinatra & soon it's over & we move on to something stringed: Biber or Boccherini.
The headache spreads to my eyes – I fall.
Nothing happens to me. Not here. Nothing Good.
I get headaches. The headaches are accompanied by a desire to explode things. Myself or other objects.
Walking fast helps. Usually. All the walking I did while broke didn't do me any good though. I already know I'm cursed (with genius) & don't need to do the Knut Hamsun thing. And look what happened to him. (What?)
Nights have been bad. I'm hot & crackly like pork rinds, or some such. Only sentient. I've been thinking all along that there could be another cat in my future, but in 14 years, I'd be... intolerable. I can't bear to think of even another two years of this. Isn't this stupid? And yet, I keep thinking there will be a change. I wonder why.
BM Starbx 9/2/01
When I'm feeling bad about having to "receive" all those brain-damaged losers at the Probation Office, I think, "Well, at least I don't have to make them Frappucinos." And feel much better.
I tell this to Lee & he laughs, but not very hard.
It's been 2 weeks since I've written, and what have I achieved? $900, so there.
Family picnic last weekend. I haven't written about it because there wasn't much to tell. The best thing was the frog that appeared in the sink like a tiny green sorcerer. Karen's frog. The worst thing was the drive back, a crawl from about Tacoma Mall to practically Federal Way. In between was food & no swimming because they'd put poison in the lake. Karen had some complication from her tonsillectomy & was back in the hospital. Caro tells me K. & Ted are fighting loudly & often. The folks talked about buying Aunt Olive's property. The consensus seemed to be "why?" except I didn't have even that much of an opinion.
The job at Probation has been, as I expected, awful. My shoulder & left arm have been kicking up. I'm sure from stress.
Nothing seems very hopeful.
BM *Bux, Sunday 8/26/01
What's Left
What's left to write about, if I put the various & original forms of torture endured at the Probation Dept. behind me?
A dull malaise that I hope will be gone tomorrow? The pains in my finger joints? The woman who stopped traffic on the ship canal bridge & then jumped? No, just a fractured spine & internal injuries.
I could have told her to go down to the Narrows or up to Deception Pass. We like the idea of water – it accepts your remains. Less mess.
So, what am I going to do?
I had a dream about F. last night. This time the wife was not in the picture. Yes, that old time smut, as real as life. And then I woke up & found it was all a dream.
I like waking up at 1 on weekend nights—I have another whole lifetime of sleep still to come.
Every so often I think about having a cat & I feel desolate. Not sad. Desolate. I need more. More time. More money. More ideas & more time (to jot them down). More love. Some love.
A decent haircut. I almost got some sort of one today, but there were 4 people ahead of me & of the 3 cutters, one was the guy who gave me the dork cut last time. And if I asked him to give me a Joan of Arc haircut, he'd probably throw a match on my head.
I made a sort of friend at work. A depressed middle-aged women – only not wet like Jane from Personnel. I try to cheer her up – with that job, no wonder she's not happy. But I won't go see Macbeth with her. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings refusing (better to nip these unlikely friendships in the bud). But I hate all this (socializing), and I’m supposed to go to Bob's birthday party next weekend.
The trouble is, you gather a bunch of people within rooms, I despise them & all the noise they make. I prefer intelligence to bonhomie.
BM Starbucks 9/1/01
"Wachet Auf” on the clarinet & violin
And the Asian girl in the baseball hat saying hello? hello? hello? hello? into her cellphone. I'd like to declare the premises cellphone & baseball hat free.
Now they are playing something 19th century, French or Russian full orchestra & chock-full of notes. I don't quite cringe because after all, it's not Frank Sinatra & soon it's over & we move on to something stringed: Biber or Boccherini.
The headache spreads to my eyes – I fall.
Nothing happens to me. Not here. Nothing Good.
I get headaches. The headaches are accompanied by a desire to explode things. Myself or other objects.
Walking fast helps. Usually. All the walking I did while broke didn't do me any good though. I already know I'm cursed (with genius) & don't need to do the Knut Hamsun thing. And look what happened to him. (What?)
Nights have been bad. I'm hot & crackly like pork rinds, or some such. Only sentient. I've been thinking all along that there could be another cat in my future, but in 14 years, I'd be... intolerable. I can't bear to think of even another two years of this. Isn't this stupid? And yet, I keep thinking there will be a change. I wonder why.
BM Starbx 9/2/01
posted by K. E. Ellingson at 4:07 PM
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