Woke up today, couldn't breathe--fucking asthma and allergies. Blame it on El Niño and the extra pollen. Called in sick for the day labor that I had counted on to make the ends do something remotely resembling a meeting. (My ends never meet and need to attend meetings of whatever 12-step fellowship that ends attend.)
Broke. Went to the ATM and overdrew my account so I could buy breakfast. Fifth time in two months. 18 dollar charge each time. Next time it happens, it will go up to 25 dollars a plop. Maybe the landlord won't deposit that check on time. . . .
I feel like I get just a little ahead, and something knocks me down. (Usually heath, probably all related to that time I shared that cooker and knowingly risked Hep C and lost the draw. "Live for now, live for now, don't tell me about tomorrow. That's what I always said, right?)
I would pray to Satan, but all my friends who worship him are as broke as I. Also, I have this innate little boy belief in the loving God. Shit, I just want a break. God tells me I have one--I am alive and have a house, a little food, a lover, and music.
I say, yeah, but I want to not have to worry every month about making it work. God says, "have I ever let you down? Doesn't it always work out? I feed the songbirds. Keep singing. And quit worrying."
I say, "Yeah, but. . . ." I want to make a steady living at something I enjoy." God looks at me with the countenance of an annoyed parent and says, "Shut up, relax, work on that novel and your crappy paintings, rest up and save your voice for the show tomorrow."
Go Home!

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