I worked part time throughout the semester so that I wouldn’t have to worry much about summer and the dread of securing summer work. All that wonderful money I saved was dearly and prayerfully obliterated when the computer in my car took a crap. Now days I find myself sitting through moments of fitful palpitations and sudden rushes of apprehension, to moments of intense depression where I can’t figure out why the hell I’m even alive. The move will go down one way or another, and I do have a few days that I work here and there, but this state of being isn’t living, it’s just sheer hell: I can’t stand it.
My side job was coming along, but the man I work for sometimes just vanishes without a trace, without so much as an email or a message to let me know what to expect. Thus I found myself at Wal-mart picking up an inner-tube for my bike as a result of accidentally slashing the existing tube when I went to switch the rear and front tires around: I have cans to collect and I can’t afford tires, which is bogus in light of the fact I rented movies the other day. That’s the sickening thought of my life: I never buy things for myself; if I buy some movies for want, turns out I need some tires. I don’t ever buy things for myself, haven’t in a long time, not since I bought the little camera. But we’re not materialistic here, I get on quite well without money…almost. Plus, I have fiction to write, which is coming along quite well I might add.
If you’re not looking at pictures of Cocoa Puff mascots found from inside a cereal box (so bad I know, but I eat those rarely when I have a serious chocolate craving), bored husbands in Wal-mart stores, or creaky staircases that lead to the eerie zone at the upstairs of my home, then you’re looking at objects I had pressed in a gigantically huge music encyclopedia I’m getting rid of as a donation: too heavy. At first I tore through the thing looking for money: about a year ago I found $100 I had stashed. No such luck this time, though I was pleased to run across a Ritchie Blackmore photo I bought at the flea market. The objects will be placed in their new home within the pages of my Beethoven’s Violin Sonatas book, an appropriate location especially for the Blackmore pic seeming how recordings do exist of him playing Beethoven’s Ninth: Final Movement with Chorale. As for the gargantuan music encyclopedia, this and a few others have found their way to the heartwarming and hopefully prophylactic covered hands of Goodwill as a part of my downsizing measures for the purpose of nomadic, college life adaptation.