You carefully role the ticker tape round a pencil… Then it becomes too large and you have to put it down on a flat surface. Pausing for breath you admire your progress, then look round the side of the desk. There’s a huge pile of tape on the floor. Shit.

After years of trial and error you realise that you just have to tear the tape and start again. The tape has other ideas. It is a Sisyphean task. This time I need to move the role and I was doing OK until the middle started to sink…slowly at first, then at pace, till the pressure from your hands squashes what little remains in an effort to try prevent it all from landing on the floor again…

Today I was reminded of the last time I was unemployed in my youth, and how I used to call my friends round when I could afford a “big shop”. “Come look at me fridge!”. And they’d pile round and ooh and aah at my fully stocked cupboards and fridge. All the tins rotated face forward, perishables stacked in order of when they were due to go off.

I met a man yesterday. Nice man. Nothing wrong with him. Probably very rich… As tech guys usually are. As I head back into poverty for the third time in as many years, I think how much easier my life would be if I had sold my soul, if I could give up my principles… If I had just one ounce of attraction for him or any of the others… But it’s all bullshit. I seem to be determined to stay single, even as I’m drowning in poverty and loneliness…

It’s not just about not being able to live with myself for thinking about how I’d have prostituted myself, it’s knowing the resentment will build, they will end up with a seething pile of venom. Also knowing that you couldn’t give them what they need, they pick you because your smart, but you’re not so smart and the fatigue with dyslexia makes it hard to sustain concentration and they wonder where that person went.

I keep seeing glimmers of myself like a stranger you think you recognise… I miss me. A co-worker threatened to hit me last week, I immediately took it to the boss, but I don’t know what I’ll be walking into tomorrow. I’m already unpopular because I can’t keep my gob shut. I’ve shut down again, just as more jobs are coming on to the market.

The cats been ill, my dads been ill both beginning the slink into death, it might take years like my nan, or because of the pulmonary embolism it might be as quick as a fart. Poof! And your life is gone. I am trying to live, i really am. I went to an art opening, spoke to some one who can help me with funding and I barely heard a word she said, her lips moved, her eyes shone and she said blah blah blah confidence… You need to increase your confidence… No sorry, I need to increase my bank balance.

Mark ronsen – pretty green
Mia- paper planes
Wiley – cash in pocket?

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