January 30th, 2003


Crimson sadness

I came to with the light of an emergency vehicle (police? fire?) in my window. I rose to look out the window, and found an ambulance parked on the street in front of the house, lights flashing, door open, and a stillness: no one moving, not a sound, not even the wind through the trees.

I stood there watching for what seemed like an hour, frozen in time like one of those snow globes that you get at the airport. It was almost beautiful.

I turned and went back inside the house, quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping gods of fate who hovered nearby playing cat-and-mouse with someones life, and quietly slipped back beneath the covers and cried.

And the next snows will come and wipe away the memories, and in the morning life will resume with the alarm clocks calling and the smell of bacon and coffee and the rustle of freshly-printed newspaper, and no one will notice that there is one less breath left to fog the windows of the soul.
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House on poo corner

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Yesterday was pretty bad. On the job-hunt front, the really nice job that I had interviewed for may not come to pass at all, as one of their larger clients is having an unplanned layoff, and they are trying to reshuffle their existing employees. Also the audio engineer job looks like a bust, as I can't even get a call back from the creative director, and the only other job that I was hopeful about has ceased all contact. Currently, I have zero prospects. Not a good place to be. Combine that with YetAnotherPhoneCall from a creditor wanting money, along with a short lecture of how I need to pay, even though I don't have the money, and how many different ways I could try to get money (borrow, sell something, pay us instead of someone else).

Last night, I experienced a bout of despair. I had forgotten what it was like to go that deep. It was strangely comforting-- I spent a long period of my life feeling like that-- and scary at the same time. Scary because somewhere down in all the pain and loneliness was a tiny little kernel of joy, like the hurt went so deep that it wrapped around into happiness. It was like a drug, like I wanted to stay there because even though there was pain and lonliness, it was mine, and nobody else could get there, and I was... protected.

I think this might be how insanity starts.
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    .Joe Millionaire