cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wrapping It Up Its not getting any better. I wrote about 20 pages today of a short book I'm trying to hammer out that will serve as a record of why I'm contemplating what I am and what led me to it. I have titled it 'Speak of the Dead.' It is an examination of my own encounters with death throughout my life, memories of people I have known who died, and the geography of death that I found myself surrounded by after living and working in the same place for so long. Sort of like Jack London's 'John Barleycorn,' only about death instead of alcohol. At the same time, this book serves to outline what it about me that causes my current situation to be so hopeless and nightmarish. For some people, what I'm going through would be bearable but I'm just not that way. To fail to provide my children with health insurance and education is something that I cannot live with. I find myself completely isolated without hope in sight of even being able to regularly leave the house and reach any other people. My house is about to be foreclosed on. My car will never be fixed. I have no hope of completing the new book (not Speak of the Dead) that is under contract with my publisher, given the anemically low advance offered. I think that another day or two should be enough to complete 'Speak of the Dead' and put it into good order. Then it will be time to make the final decision about what I'm going to do. There isn't a place for me in the world any longer. I had some brief hope today of filling up at least the bare minimum of students for the class I planned for the end of the month. If I had even just 6 sign-ups with deposits then I could pay the health insurance premium and have a path on which to stumble forward for another month or so. But its not looking like I'm going to have enough people to make it viable. During the last few days I haven't had more than 2 hours of sleep scattered here and there. Too many things to worry about. Trish just doesn't understand and doesn't make much of an effort for me. She pushed me away in bed so I had to come downstairs where I am laying on the couch. I cannot bear to lie in bed next to someone who doesn't want me. At around dawn last night (morning?) she asked me why I wasn't asleep and I told her that I can't tell any more whether I'm dead or alive. Its true. Like in that movie, 'The Others.' I can't leave, nobody calls or comes to see me, and I only see the same few family members day in and day out. If someone told me that I've been dead for months and am haunting this house then I would believe them. Altogether, I have given up and lost nearly all hope. Life holds almost nothing for me. Not that there aren't good things about life out there in the world. I don't think that life is inherently hopeless. Just that in my particular circumstance I am trapped and boxed into a corner from which I no longer see a possible escape. 1:05 a.m. - 2011-04-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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