What, yet again, is to be done?
Friday July 13th 2012, 10:41 pm
Filed under: Boozy,can't make that shit up,money,nextish Tags:

A bit of a funk over the last few days. 3 weeks in to summer teaching, an endeavour rather looked down upon by many of my colleagues. We’re in it for the money, yo. 900 years, give or take, in 6 weeks, things move fast. I’m phoning in the passion, if that makes any sense. There are some who seem to care and some who don’t, some who might recognize that I’m not all there, and some who don’t. I’m more there than many or most, so I’m still better than many or most.

And I care. But less. And I want. But less. And I wonder, what if, given an answer one way or the other so I can move the fuck on. A friend moving to the UK after two years of fighting a “no” that made no sense. A colleague in limbo for her third consecutive year as a “no” goes up and trickles down, is sent down and bounces up, lacking clarity or resolution, leaving only pain and crushing self-doubt. A long talk with a friend as I, some 13 years later, I paid him back. Speaking of which, ran into a friend of an old friend (headed-to-the-UK guy, above) at our local bodega. “Last time I saw you,” he said, “I loaned you money at a flower store.” I have no fucking memory of this, though reconstructed bits and pieces come back to mind. “Did I pay you back,” I asked, cuz, well, fuck, it’s me we’re talking about here. “Yup,” he replied, “you sent me a cheque.” No memories, really, of this exchange, despite the unusual state of having paid someone back promptly. I don’t think I owe anybody non-corporate right now. And corporations aren’t fucking people, so I don’t owe anyone. Anything. Except for all of the less easily measurable bits.

I’m not sure I care that much. Enough to write a chapter of a second book I’m unconvinced by? Enough to write a far more interesting popular book, conceived in an office-park uni in Surrey, bugging me for the last 7 months? Enough to say fuck it all and open a wine bar somewhere? The path is all too clear, though there’s still hope I can get from there to here. If I can find the balance between giving enough of a fuck to make the move possible, but not so much of a fuck that I can’t get there from here. If you see what I mean, and I think you do.

Wednesday July 11th 2012, 11:20 pm
Filed under: Miscellaneous, Truly Tags:

I almost need to write, here rather than in a red moleskin. Almost. Not tonight, not after that film, not after last night’s talk. Spite and lightness, consecutively rather than concurrently. But soon.