Hell is for other people, but for some reason, I get it.
Guess you all haven't heard from me in a while. It's because I just haven't had the urge to post lately. My life has descended yet more into Hell as the Money Crunch or whatever you call a recession that is obviously worse than one has driven me first to two months at a transient hotel, then, last week, out to Sacramento to take care of my 80 year old mother.
Sacramento is fucking hot. The worst part, though, is that Mom is suffering from all sorts of ailments that make it impossible for her to generate her own body heat, so she has to LEAVE THE AIR CONDITIONING OFF and the sweat just dribbles into my eyes. Even at three in the morning.
I've had no money for drugs or entertainments in ages. I did manage to catch the Throbbing Gristle show in April, thanks to a sympathetic blogger friend named Brad Miller who sold me a ticket, and that was the highlight of a spring mostly spent lying around a hotel room literally smaller than most bath rooms are, watching Adult Swim and eating the kind of crap food one eats when they have no kitchen to cook in.
Mom has helped me out a lot in life and really deserves and also appreciates my help. Hopefully after a month or two of this I'll be able to sock away some money to come back to San Francisco, because I don't think I can honestly survive this climate too long without literally going far too insane to be around.
I have no social life to speak of. My urge to make art and music has evaporated. I have no more emotions, after having torn them out of me like ripping out my spine two years ago, then realising that I sort of needed that to live.
I don't want to write any more whiny entries like this. But this is where I am right now, it's just a report. But if anyone knows a good place for me to live in San Francisco, please, Gods, let me know. Ok?
Sacramento is fucking hot. The worst part, though, is that Mom is suffering from all sorts of ailments that make it impossible for her to generate her own body heat, so she has to LEAVE THE AIR CONDITIONING OFF and the sweat just dribbles into my eyes. Even at three in the morning.
I've had no money for drugs or entertainments in ages. I did manage to catch the Throbbing Gristle show in April, thanks to a sympathetic blogger friend named Brad Miller who sold me a ticket, and that was the highlight of a spring mostly spent lying around a hotel room literally smaller than most bath rooms are, watching Adult Swim and eating the kind of crap food one eats when they have no kitchen to cook in.
Mom has helped me out a lot in life and really deserves and also appreciates my help. Hopefully after a month or two of this I'll be able to sock away some money to come back to San Francisco, because I don't think I can honestly survive this climate too long without literally going far too insane to be around.
I have no social life to speak of. My urge to make art and music has evaporated. I have no more emotions, after having torn them out of me like ripping out my spine two years ago, then realising that I sort of needed that to live.
I don't want to write any more whiny entries like this. But this is where I am right now, it's just a report. But if anyone knows a good place for me to live in San Francisco, please, Gods, let me know. Ok?