kanji

13 August, 2005
can't spend what you ain't got, can't lose what you never had

if i don't remember many details about the ancient Greeks, one pebble that still sticks in my brain is the mythology: a cattlecall of gods, not-so-omnipotent, solely amused by persecuting and prosecuting mortals, shuffling them around like gamepieces. just for a laughs.

i'm more inclined to believe the fundamentalists have got it all wrong. and the Athenians... not so wrong.

things were already abyssmal here, financially. since Yoko decided to escape from work and the rest of the world, the noose tightened, month-by-month. somehow, in the scope of three years, she'd managed to squander every cent of her inheritance. then, her half of my income tax return.

then it was all me. living with the "why don't you take me anywhere's" and the "why don't we do anything's" and "men are bastards". but i didn't buckle. or retaliate.

the last payment for the beach house came at the end of last month (the place we have gone to so she can spend a week shopping with her daughter, while i disciplined the rowdy young'uns. no time for ourselves.). it couldn't have come at a worse time. rent week. no savings.

so, to show that i could atone for my Indianapolis extravagance (sleeping in a tent, cooking onsite), i postponed the rent, which dominoed onto the rest of the responsiblilties... leaving me to eat ramen once-a-day, every day, while i was away at work.

this morning, balancing my checkbook online, i saw the overdraft. and caved. by "caving", i mean i allowed her to notice that something was wrong.

which ignited the chain of events that i knew would burst if any hint of her having to work sparked.

and her first reaction was to pack her bags and leave. the "dissolution".

it as all said and done, as the afternoon wasted away... i never raised my voice, lost my temper, bullied, or stomped away in anger. or felt my eyes water up, even after all these years.

even when i left her room in the conversation to show some, any, sign of wanting to fix things, she only brought up leaving, again. i didn't argue. i agreed that if it was that easy to say, and consider for months, it would be best. better to call it a day and get on with living, for whatever time remains.

no reply.

the old amnesia struck again, later in the evening. the denial part. the "pretending it isn't there makes it go away".

i just hope it means we part, not as bitter enemies. what she doesn't know about me is that when it's over, i disappear. for good.

i'll dust myself off. start over again. raise a bottle to the late, great Little Milton for ironically planting his hit "We're Gonna Make It" in my brain while the festivities were underway.

...like a Clarksdale demi-god.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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