Yeah, I blew it today. Tried to start off this morning by looking for other possible jobs, emailing various people and (maybe) doing some work on the few stories I have to do for clients who have shown some willingness to actually pay, but I just plain ran out of energy.
In fact, the anxiety and my miserable, aching back got the better of me, and I had to flee. Walked five miles, which at least brought my jittery pulse under control. It was hot enough to be uncomfortable, too.
Didn't hear from the landlord today. I've written him a letter asking for more time and explaining what I can of the situation; I'll drop it off at his office in the morning.
Not that I expect him to react positively. I've tried to school him on how and why my work got messed up before, and he never caught on. Still, I can hope, and the uncertainty he is causing has made it virtually impossible for me to concentrate on making positive things happen.
Friends are helping a great deal; other circumstances are making things worse.
And it's the "worse" that has been gnawing at me all day.
Fighting off the inertia that fear causes is a very big deal for me. I haven't yet given up; I hope I never do. But I can feel the impulse off in the shadows, and it's closer than I'd like.
Someone committed suicide by jumping off the nearby cliffs this afternoon. Out came helicopters, Fire Department boats and a bunch of police and paramedics, all to no avail.
Can't imagine doing that. It's not fair anyway, because the rescue folks risk their necks to recover the body.
I am lonely tonight, and intensely depressed. In the old days, that would have been to crack open a bottle of Beam and aim toward drowning my sorrows.
These days, it means writing crap like this, cold sober.
I don't see much possibility in tomorrow. I pray I'll be proven wrong.
Did I mention that my back still hurts like hell?
5 hours ago