...is, they say, sufficient. I need six to get my message across, and here they are:
Stay the hell away from me today.
Woops. That's seven words. It's still early.
I managed to choke down some spinach souffle last night. Most of the portion, anyway; I gave some to the cat, who loves the stuff. Today, it's back to tea and water only.
Thanks to two clients -- both pay-on-publication types, who have screwed me over before by delaying publication (and therefore checks) on a whim -- I will be spending every waking moment this weekend sitting here writing or on the phone trying to orchestrate a photo shoot that keeps getting delayed. Except, that is, for tomorrow morning, when I have to spend a couple of hours away doing something I promised someone else.
You may be thinking "so what?" right about now. Since I have no money, and no life outside work, why shouldn't I keep on with it in hopes that one day someone will actually pay for the work they've commissioned?
Good point. Well, not really.
I am simply sick and tired of being pressured, bullshitted, betrayed and generally messed-with. I know, all too damn well, that those who have done and are doing the pressuring, bullshitting, betraying and messing-with won't be thinking about me this weekend. They all trust me to do my work, be civil, and not suddenly transform myself into an uncooperative, nasty, revenge-seeking monster.
Hence, the warning.
I am closer to that awful transformation than anyone could possibly know.
15 hours ago