A happy day in the void.
Total rest. Didn’t leave house. Why lose out?
Lay on bed listening to the wind and observing the sulphur skies. No radio. No input required.
It’s OK to tell me I shouldn’t do this.
It’s OK to tell me it’s dangerous.
That I might die. Lol!
OK so if not me then who?
If I’m not equipped for this job, who the hell is?
At 55 with a life of struggle behind me I can’t know what’s possible?
So who is stepping up to take my place, you, him?
Facing down Satan, you’re gonna do that single-handed?
Huh, maybe not, maybe you’re just too damn young…
I know death, I live with death, I embrace death, I love death.
Death is far from a problem to me. So far from a problem.
Everyone is a bitch to me. No one is ‘a man’ to me…
I am Holy Water, I’m gonna piss on you and put out your ‘light’ for good.
Hello dear ones.
Things are largely OK or sometimes, better than OK. Look. we won! Right? Always a foregone conclusion, but still…
I’m not ‘mentally ill’ anymore. Just a bit of a moody, cantankerous old bugger sometimes. My two housemates get the brunt of that mainly. They’re more than able to ‘deal’.
Reservations are mostly financial ones nowadays. In hoc to the tune of £1300 to my bank. Bills and rent are paid, coz they have to be. Lodger is working a regular job but can only manage to pay me £50 a week. Solly brings home, as ever, zilch. The most he manages is to cover his own expenses for a few days at a time (usually when he’s not here).
In all my years of managing recurrent crises, lovers ‘bailing’ on me, a host of pisstakers and severe manic depression, never have I remained overdrawn for so long. That in itself costs £1 a day, you know that debts are rarely ‘free’. Plus, I’m like my mum in that respect. I hate to feel in debt.
It’s very hard for me to go ‘cap in hand’ to anyone for anything. People don’t and can’t take me seriously as a ‘needy’ person because I give off the vibe of being super-rich. Hah! Ironic or what. I live on Government Benefits folks. I frequently help out my people, my son and even my mum from those funds alone. I grease palms and get things done (African stylee) with cash.
Now I am almost forced into hiding. I have very well-stocked cupboards and fridge having a Cancer Moon. Home is where the heart is and for me, it can never be without food! I am ingenious at cooking what my mum used to call ‘scratch meals’. That’s meals created from leftover bits and pieces. I’m as far from ‘can’t cook won’t cook’ as it’s possible to be. I’m a provider to the core. Resourceful. Ingenious. Never knowingly under-prepared for any emergency.
Yet there is no arguing with these figures. OK someone elderly in my extended family needs to die and the will be expedited swiftly. A couple thou would make all the difference.
Or scrap the above. Money needs to and will be found somehow. And no, I can’t ‘get a job’. Don’t be silly. I’m often too tired and fatigued to make it down the road to the shop for heaven’s sake. I keep strange hours. There isn’t an employer in the world who can be flexible enough to accommodate my needs.
Which is why I’m now sending this pitiful ‘plea’ out for some wanton generosity from you guys. Think of all the fantastic karma you will accrue! You know it makes sense.
So how are peeps who don’t know me in real life gonna get the money to me? I used to do Paypal/Me. Still have a paypal account but when someone tried that it didn’t go through. I don’t really trust paypal. It would be counter-intuitive to post my banking details on here. On the other hand the blog gets so little traffic (especially from Nigeria and Africa generally) that it might be worth a try. Surprise me! Even if only with a tenner! As the British supermarket Tesco’s used to tell us, Every Little Helps.
It isn’t the first time I’ve been desperate enough to literally beg on my own blog. Please don’t advise me on other methods of getting cash. I’ve looked into all of them and they. Don’t. Work. At least, not for me. So here goes nothing, OK? (Santander are super-hot on fraudsters, and as I’m overdrawn up to the hilt, what have I to lose?)
I won’t keep the details up for too long. I’m not COMPLETELY silly.