Another morning comes awake in Reno’s desert heat.
At least I slept in my bed again last night, after first falling asleep on the couch, a book on my chest, the AC on High.
Waking up alone in my bed is still disconcerting. There’s that brief 20 seconds when I think ‘where the hell am I.’ Then I notice the sun and am alright for another minute.
Then the memories and realizations crash in and stop my heart.
Sat outside in Little Tijuana and had my coffee with the last cigarette in the house. Am out of money for more until tomorrow. I’ll be in great form in another hour when the withdrawal starts in.
Later this week I’m supposed to actually collect some money for a design job I did last winter.
Been waiting six months to collect even a partial payment. Got an email yesterday saying that my check will be going out today. Cross your fingers. It would be nice coming back from Boston to a fridge that runs (hey lady is your fridge running?) and a functioning telephone and Internet connection.
Okay fuck the phone connection but I need the DSL or I’ll be doing design work from the public library computer.
Received an email from Tinfoil Hat Client this morning. He is happy with the store I’ve set up on his site. I’m not.
I think the entire thing is shite and don’t have my name anywhere on it. All of the work on that goddamned thing and I’ll never use it for a reference or resume.
Why? ‘Cause I did it exactly the way I was paid to do it. If the (grossly infinitesimal) check clears then who am I to argue with a client over layout.
Please save me from the blind.
Today I’m going to try and get out of the house. My depression is so severe that I’m incapable of doing anything but writing to keep my mind occupied.
To go through life without feeling is impossible for me. I cannot blame my faults and foibles on another person and know it is my job to work with what little I’ve got. To at least try.
Is it so wrong to find it inexplicable that others will not do the same?
Maybe I’ll be able to listen to my favorite music again today or play the piano.
Maybe I’ll sit inside in the dark and write.
Maybe I’ll go to the gym or for a walk to the river.
Maybe I’ll stop weeping for thirty damned minutes.
Maybe the phone will ring and I’ll smile.
Maybe I’ll obsess about sex again someday.
Maybe this is all a dream and I’ll wake up in another place.
I’ll let you know.
–nevada desert photo by arthur durkee–