BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

Lacking pills ... "Write another POEM!"

Ah, such randomness ... an ancient SCTV reference in the title. I sure as hell could USE some pills right about now.

This whole Sacred Sexuality Conference debacle coming on top of all my personal financial crap is just too fucking depressing. I've never been in a situation where I couldn't "rescue" it with some cash ... the whole history of Eschaton has been like that ... chug along on piss-poor sales and then go dump some piece of savings into it and buy an ad or put out a new book, or something, always figuring (or at least HOPING) that my luck would change, that SOMETHING would come of it. But right now we have tapped everything ... every checking account, every savings acocunt, every CD, every retirement account, everything but the kids' piggy banks (well, I suppose we could sell the apartment and try living on the principle while having to make payments ... but that would be economically suicidal, especially with no job prospects on the horizon). I just wish I could have reached into a pocket and found three grand to float to Ed to make this damn conference thing work ... so many people are so pissed off right now, and it was one of those things that could have been made right with enough cash ... but for once I've not had ANYTHING to give (well, unless you count the 200 or so hours I put in on doing graphics, tickets/credentials, promotional materials, PR stuff, etc. ... but as usual, my work, no matter how hard I work, doesn't mean SHIT to the "real world").

Man, I hate this "being an abysmal failure" crap! How come EVERYTHING that I touch turns out like this? Bleh. At least we upgraded the life insurance. If it comes down to a choice of dragging down my family with me in this unending spiral of accursed failure and despair, and just taking myself out ... I know which one to choose! Where the fuck did it all go wrong? This past decade has been NOTHING but financial disaster after financial distaster after financial diaster. The rest of the fucking world is making money hand over fist on the Internet (and hell, Eschaton was there from the very begining!) and I'm flushed down the damn toilet. This makes me feel so sick.

Anyway, here's today's venture into literary despair ...

                    THESE KILLING DEPTHS

                    everything remains
                    all things we build
                    lie shattered
                    swept by destruction
                    into the void

                    none align
                    none maintain
                    we are left with nothing
                    all good bled
                    all worth drained
                    all hope purged
                    to an ugly empty
                    a killing blank

                    this the depth of our descent
                    the lowest point
                    that we have reached
                    and yet we fear
                    that this is not the nadir
                    this is not the deepest swing
                    into cruel desperation
                    such horrible despair

                    so many days remain
                    to be corrupted
                    so many things
                    to feel our curse's taint
                    so many dreams await
                    to turn to nightmares
                    to daytime terrors
                    of torture, pain, and dread

                    where does light
                    reside in worlds
                    so full of blindness
                    so beset by sleep?
                    where are the dawns
                    for which we yearn
                    that frame the waking
                    that will finally release?

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

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