013188.1240

So here's what happened.  (why _do_ I bother reaching for the shift 
key?  why do i bother with anything at all?  Here it comes ... be 
prepared to draw circles, lots of circles!)

(for one with a love of studying syntax in depth, it's funny how i also 
enjoy complete freeform at times.  another facet of schizophrenia or 
simply the love of adapting?  a chameleon of words sitting on a plaid 
quilt of style.  cheese.)

i don't know.  day by day here.  some simultaneous things: i merged 
SYCO into DARK REGIONS, and Joe wanted $200 by the end of the month 
[unpaid printing costs from the last issue of SYCO], hey it's the end 
of the month & i only have $100 to spare, without eating.  stefan & 
chris & i were planning to go to eclecticon in sacramento deb 12-14, 
had to cancel it.  lots of people were expecting me; good contacts lost 
now.  kevin j anderson & doug beason told me to send novel pieces to 
their agent -- richard curtis -- so i did.  it has been almost two 
weeks; his reply time is supposed to be three weeks.  interesting wait, 
you shall see soon.

was working in santee, 22 miles south of poway.  company was supposed 
to move to miramar on 1/1, so i got the guest house behind stefan 
jackson's house late december.  the commute to miramar would not have 
been bad ... had the job for only 3 months, wanted to keep it as long 
as i could.  besides, john silverman (the other graphic artist) was a 
cool guy who would gradually teach me useful things like color 
stripping, etc.  i was commuting from mom's place until the company 
moved -- big deal, i'd been living there for 7 months -- and moving 
stuff up to my bungalow on weekends.  now the company is moving to 
kearny mesa in march -- which is an hour from here each way!  on 
wednesday i came home from work and watched the kids for a few hours, 
no questions asked, no money for it ... on friday mom told me to get 
all my stuff out, so i did.  from here there's no way i can afford to 
drive to santee every day, so i've lost my job.  rent is due tomorrow. 
 i've got it covered with $120 to spare.

bills should be no more than $50.  that leaves $70, plus the $50 in the 
SYCO account leaves me $80 short paying joe.

i don't understand all this sometimes.  choices, few.  commute to 
santee and take home (after commute and lunch expenses) $2 an hour, 
which implies a 60 hour week to meet the rent alone.  cross my fingers 
and look for a new job.  if i don't have one this week, i probably 
won't make rent next month.  yes, the mags are all on hold.  i'm not 
insane, or stupid.  i have no gas in the car.  to eat i have a few 
slices of bread, two boxes of cereal (no milk) and enough ice tea mix 
to make 3 glasses of sugar water.  at almost nothing today, feels neat.

what happened?  nothing rational.  folks were supposed to help with 
this place, instead they back off after less than a month.  a little 
more time?  if richard curtis takes my book idea, i might get an 
advance within a year or two.  until then, what?  i owe a lot of people 
payments for stories and artwork, and have no postage or envelopes to 
send them magazines.  

i should really go turn off the heat.

yes, there is depressing music on.  happy music would only feel wrong. 
 (how can anyone put up with it?)

it's funny.  i have only 4 more chapters of EYE GATE to write, then i 
have to brush up all 20 (the 1st 5 need lots of work, the last 15 only 
a little).  it's my best gamble, but i'm too pissed off to work on it. 
 besides, my mailpile grew when i was working stupidly those long weeks 
trying to get all the money i don't have anymore.  i just typed 
rejections on some 20 stories, and read 8 new ones.  i can't send them 
back without some kind of comment, don't know why.  maybe i cheer up 
when i talk to someone, even someone i don't know.  i can't accept 
anything now anyway -- who knows what's going to be happening months 
from now?  i can't afford to commit any more stories to uncertainty.  
so everything has to go back -- why do i still read the stuff?  

i sent out flyers, maybe someone will help me out.  i can refer good 
stories to fellow markets, always trying to improve my contacts.  
that's still not the whole picture.  the picture is rolled up in a 
tube, only the edge is showing.

time to cap it, give up for the day.  my back feels like fire, always 
getting worse.  since mid-Oct i've been working 6-12 hours a day, 
driving 22 miles to work, 28 miles home (my mailbox is a bit off 
course), sitting down, reading and dealing with mail, then writing or 
staring at blank paper for hours.  total: 16-18 hours a day sitting 
behind a desk, bent over a drafting table or behind a steering wheel.  
every day i wake up and my shoulders are tighter, my lower back less 
flexible.  it has become quite a solid thing.  the guitar helps, but i 
know there is no cure.

life: can't live with it, can't live without it!

1:30, an early one.  this day had no redeeming features, why not call 
it a night?  tomorrow i'm going over to chris's house (huntington 
beach).  he should have food.  some writers will be there, i bet we all 
get drunk and tune up the car.

monday?  what is monday.  i wanted to stay at chris's and meet some 
important people in the area, but i'm supposed to be in santee (why?) 
at work.  i'll probably be out looking for a job instead.  after all, 
there is a time limit.  a drawing for PORTENTS will be overdue tomorrow 
... can't even find the pens.