One more week of being poor. Apparently Bradley is holding my loans until the 29th for various reasons. Shit! I feel like a battered protagonist in a Bruce Sprinsteen song, working my ass off down at the dock for my high-school sweetheart who's put on a few pounds since our premature pregnancy and marriage.
"Now I been lookin' for a job but it's hard to find
Down here it's just winners and losers
and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well I'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end
So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him
Well I guess everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your hair up nice and set up pretty
and meet me tonight in Atlantic City"
Perhaps it'll be all good. I've been living off of "dribbling" checks and TV dinners. I've had a hard time focusing and trying to tame my Mara. example, I almost went off and cussed out my prof. the other day. he gives me a "C" on a paper then cancels four class periods. I can understand the "C" (the paper was only worth 5 percent of my total grade) but canceling class means that I've just flushed $600 down the financial latrine. Unbelievable--this is the prof. who makes it a HUGE deal that I'm a upin' cumin' writer, god love 'em! He wrote a book twenty years ago that he's still trying to get published. Am I his dart board? Bullseye. I'm still gonna be writing twenty-years from now no matter what, but I'll be damned if my future in the english language solely consists in scribbling
in the side margins of Freshman compositions.
Oh well, nothing like indulging in a lil' poverty every now and then to make you understand the human condition. Uncle Mike has lots of money ( and boy does he ever give it all away asking for nothin' back in return) but we got into a verbal bullsfight over monetary merit yesterday afternoon. Uncle Mike lashed at me and told me that I was dwelling too much on fiscal woes. I bit back at him. He told me that 98 percent of ALL mammals are in the same boat I'm in. I told him 98 percent of all mammals don't risk their health the way I've been by working all the time. He told me HA, go to a third world country. I told him fine, lets go, I'd welcome the simplicity of a twelve hour work day.
BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH.....
Another irony is that, instead of giving MARA tea, I seduce her. Every college girl I've ever dated, slept with, fallen head-over-Doc. Martens in love with has been a TRUE scholar, i.e., Valedictorian, brilliant, full-ride, ect. and it's like, "Shit. Am I only dating these girls because, subconciously, they have something I want?"
Nine-times-outta-ten it's always my workoholicism that spawns a fissure in our relationship. I come home tired or I come home and just want to write or i come home and she's on the rag and we both get into it because the date on the milk has expired and I made an ill-time joke about her mother. Petty stuff like that.
Of course there's no dating pre-requisite, but subconcioulsy it's like we're abacus beads that smack together
in a nuclear clack of magnetic attraction and then oust the "other" out of our spurious dreams eternally.
One more week. I can do one more week (any more and I'm gonna drown a midget) but I can do one more week.
'Bout a week ago or so Daniela wrote a brilliant entry about trekking out her life's path. It was a saturday morning and I had to work a LONG day and I elicited a comment about the path being a lonely one at times. Faceless Ace commented and said that he thought I was wrong, that the path wasn't essentially one of emotional destitution. I have to disagree. It's a beautiful path. The sunsets are a luminous, but at times its hard, at times
it's damn lonely (if it wasn't we wouldn't feel compelled to blogg all the goddamn time) and at times you feel completely vacant inside. The most important thing is that you're still capable of feeling. You're still capable of dreaming. The most important thing is knowing that deep down inside as long as you have a pulse, you're participating in the life you feel that you were meant to lead.
That said never give up. Keep fighting for that child inside. Keep dreaming and one day you'll wake up and realize that, yes, it wasn't all that bad, even when times were shitty, we still had hope, we still had dreams, we still had the capacity to change and to bring music into a crowded dancefloor that is patiently waiting to groove to that perfect song.
5 comments:
i think you are right, the path is a lonely one. maybe the journey is becoming ok with that aloneness. rub that copper it just might bring gold.
It's always in my pocket. Just like your friendship. Thank you.
Thanks for your comments Ace! Always a pleasure!
Mistuh U, i've been thinking about this. Your comment on the fact that we would not be blogging so much if we were not lonely is spot on. But i think there are layers of loneliness. maybe this loneliness is unconscious stemming from the fact that we have not progressed far enough on the path to the true Beloved. because, when you think about it, you KNOW that you are never alone. however, it depends how deep that knowledge goes. it must go so deep it overcomes our unconscious too. i think i'll post in on my blog too - thanks Mr. D! (-:
Yeah, there's layers of loneliness (just like there's layers of love-Baby!) but maybe that's what makes this Bloggin' experience so unique and mystical. Our identites are mara'd and marooned by the stackity blue of the computer screen, yet at the same time, we're all lodged in the emotional elevator and it's stuck between different floors of our lives and the only way we can pass the time is by telling silly and sometimes profound lil' anecdotes.....
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