Lost

Originally Posted Friday, August 22, 2014

This week is just a bad blur.  Where the fuck am I, I wonder, and how did I end up here?  I couldn't provide you with details.  Suddenly life is just what happens when I am not paying attention.  It is a job. 

I have woken at four or five every morning for a while now.  I don't even need to open my eyes to know that time.  I lay in bed and do not fall back to sleep, but somehow, I have crazy dreams. 

These have been professionally dangerous days, days on point when I must prove myself again and again.  Stress and work that I cannot finish.  When I go home, there is as much to do tomorrow and the next day, and the next. 

I forget to put on music.  I get into bed.  I drink too much.  I pass out. 

Wash, rinse, spin. . . repeat. 

I am unwell this morning.  My face is putty.  Nowhere does my body bend or move normally or naturally.  My fingers and toes are like sausages.  I haven't had a decent meal since I cooked for my mother on Sunday.  I haven't exercised, haven't gone to the market.  There have been quick stops at the liquor store and for takeout Thai.  The cat is depressed.  My house is a mess.  I have a dying Canary Island palm that needs treatment, treatment I was going to give it. . . how many days ago?  The repairman is calling.  I was going to have him come when?  There was a woman I knew. . . I haven't heard from friends. 

The camera I loaded with film for my new project sits untouched.  The mail has piled up for weeks again, bills unpaid.  I've not been to the studio, have not worked on images, have not run the printer which I paid so much to have fixed.  Special papers, special coatings, color experiments, film magic. . . I can't remember what I was planning. 

I get mad at people for having fun.  How can they have fun?  I'm tired of making the world a better place for them.  I turn vile. . . evil.  How is it that everyone goes on vacation?  People are bettering their lives, making changes, getting ahead.  I resent them. 

I must hurry again to the factory.  Someone has to shovel the coal.  It won't let up for a while yet.  I feel like I'll drop with a spade in my hand. 

Here are a couple songs from the same album that sound the way I feel.  The lyrics are not quite right, but they are good ones and they will do.  They are good workingman songs. 

*   *    *   

Oh. . . no. . . this one. . . I forgot about this one.  "You Don't Know You're Born."