Thu, 19 May 2005

don’t jazz me around, angel of poverty
The logic was that I would befriend my creditors, take the coin of their rehearsed friendliness, to invite Carl and Jean from First Federal Separtist Bank, Christine from United Moneychangers, and John from the University of Summerland Community Credit Union to my house for dinner and drinks, perhaps some friendly matchmaking among the single set, filling their hands with homebaked pies and quilts, showing up at their birthday parties with elaborate yet tasteful gifts, so that when I tell them that I am never going to work again, will never again for the remainder of my life trade the hours of my life for money which I would then give to those I owe, that I am a fiscal dead end, then they would understand, or at least be pained, perhaps having to go to the far bathroom from their offices where no one would suspect them and cry over the thought of having to bring the weapons of debt against their best and truest friend. Some days it’s like you’re walking around with your ribcage open, with your organs spilling out on the ground, only everyone’s too embarassed to tell you and you’re so tired you don’t even notice.
(12:12.05.19.2005) [/ana] #