OK, so I'm officially feeling like shit today. I had been feeling tired and over-whelmed, but then we heard again from the bank (I need to see what's been sucking the money out of the Eschaton checking account ... as I just put enough money in there for a coupe of months), and The Wife got back on her soapbox about completely dismantling it. Now, The Wife really, really hates Eschaton because I've bled off the better part of a hunded thousand dollars ... quite literally every penny I've ever been able to put my hands on ... into trying to make a go of that. She sees it as getting rid of a toxic thing, me ... well, it's such a part of me that I can't help but see losing Eschaton as part of me dying. I have so many projects still in the works, that if we had ANY other income I'd be able to drag that along ... but my GUT feeling is that if I lose Eschaton, I'm going to be dead before I turn 50. Unfortunately, I don't have any rational basis to argue FOR it, aside from what would be seen by The Wife as "pie in the sky, bye and bye". I still think I could turn it around ... just not this year. Damn this shit makes me feel suicidal. It seems like there is NEVER any "good results" just "good processes" (see the exam post below) which ultimately are just cruel teases. NOTHING has ever turned out well for me, no matter how excellently the various bits and pieces are crafted, and all I have to base any hope that any venture will NOT fail IS precisely "pie in the sky" sorts of thinking. My damned accountant made a nasty jab at me the last time we spoke, saying "one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results" ... I guess I should just EXPECT FAILURE since that's the ONLY THING that my history has any trend for. Fuck it ... just shoot me now!
Anyway, a new poem. Lucky you. As I noted, I'm fucked in terms of updating the archive site ... I just don't have the hours right now. Sorry about that. The new stuff will go in there every few weeks, but right now (unless I figure out some way to fill time on breaks and stuff at school with it) ther eare no spare hours at all. What there is of the archive is at http://i.am/btripp ... go see me bleed.
PREPARED FOR ENDING
almost collapsing these walls rushing the boundaries grow far too tight we can not move we can not think frozen by fear wrapped up in rage
constituent parts too small to save in chaos losing without a count too many factors weave in and out intentional absence which echoes our pain
these days without alignment all jumbled down vast piles of hours not enough to build but far too much to be wasted thus scattered like fragments of the flotsam trail
this darkness swirls in blackened colors and midnight greys a kaleidoscope flow never drifting far from that zero state its patterns are our madness its churning grips our life
and, in the center, the very core, is loss and anguish, agony and hate, these form the theme of all our being, structuring the Hell which is our fate