cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is so much heavy shit and I am so alone in it. We're not making much money for the last week and a half. I don't know what it is. Less people walking in the door. Every day is mid, or slightly below mid. I look at the rolling week average to take the temperature and we're a bit over $100 per day down from where we were. Is it the heat? Is it people being on vacation? I don't know. If it is vacations, there should be at least as many vacationers showing up here as leaving for somewhere else. Trish told me today that our son confessed to her that he has been doing cocaine and wants to find an in-patient treatment facility, or at least find a way of getting out of town to a completely different social situation for 2 to 4 weeks. The risk of being in the restaurant business. The fucking dipshit. I warned him. There is nothing available anywhere nearby. I am considering putting together a long canoe trip on the J@mes River for him. I'd go along for the first three days to help him learn how to handle the boat and the minor rapids. He can spend a week on the river camping on islands and paddling and fishing and generally having the Huck Finn adventure that he's had in his head, and I have had as well since I was around 8 years old. Then he's need at least another week somewhere else, out of his situation here. I'm not sure what that would be. I don't have a friend in another city to send him off to stay with. Maybe I could put him on the Appalachian Trail for a week. I have the gear for both of those trips. He wants to get out of this social situation for a while to reset his habits. Which sounds like a good idea. Trish stood me up for our movie date tonight. I understand given the situation. My office turned into a dorm room is too cozy. It is a problem. I spent two hours cooking dinner and eating it and then cleaning up. A thing with angel hair pasta and really good canned tuna and tomatoes and red pepper and capers and shallots and garlic. Enjoying being in this room has meant that I don't do a fucking thing after closing the bookstore for most of the past week. I'm sleeping in here tonight, now that I have a futon couch. This is not ok. I need to be focusing on making this bookstore better. I need to be doing these carpentry projects and clearing out the storage space and culling sections and rotating displays and finally setting up our online sales. Being comfortable in my new personal space is not helping that to happen. I have not accomplished anything of note during the past week since this has been happening. Half of the reason why I went to all the trouble of getting the futon was so that I can invite Trish over to watch movies and try to snuggle her. And maybe we also have sex. And I want that, but just as much I want to spoon her and just touch her. I just want to fall asleep with my wife in my arms. I am so close to that and she is dating me and acting like she wants to be with me and and it is still this impossibly distant thing that that is consuming a huge part of my mind that should be figuring out how to make this bookstore survive. And now I have this stupid shit with Harry fucking up. My desires are so simple and so easily derailed. I want my kids to be happy and my wife to love me and it is always almost but not quite. Also with all of the things that I am supposed to pay for in regard to our son. and the baseline costs of dating my wife each week, I am now living paycheck to paycheck again. Both of them think that I am rolling in money, but I only pay myself $800 a week and spend almost all of it on them. I need a new prescription for glasses, I haven't been to a dentist in 14 years, my car needs about $600 of work, and none of my needs are on the table at all because I have to take Trish to dinner 3 to 5 times a week and Harry needs me to pay for his driving school for his license and some thousands of dollars for rehab and I guess I know where his income from working 50 hours a week running a restaurant has gone. Do they think I am rich just because I pay the bill every time anyone in the family needs something? They actually might. I give up everything for myself for them. This is just some awful fucking shit right now and I can't even wrap myself around my wife while I fall asleep because I'm in my epic dorm room full of guitars and a kitchenette in my building downtown, surrounded by 100,000 books. 1:51 a.m. - 2024-07-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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