Negotiations

I have a week left to make some money for rent. Trouble is brewing. Trouble on the horizon. I think my current landlord will give me some time--because it will be hard to get anyone else to rent this dump--but how much time does that leave Curt Jimenez to get his life together? Where do I go? Where do I start?

I went to a temp agency. They told me they could get me some short term landscaping and garbage cleanup jobs, and I told them I would think about it. "I'll think about it," I said. They encouraged me to do so. "Winter is coming," they said, "and these jobs will be harder to come by then." I understood. Things are harder in winter, in many ways. I should start "stockpiling grain", if you know what I mean. LOL.

I walked around town with the dogs. Past the diner. Past the spot where I used to pick up my newspapers hours before the sun came up. Kicked up some memories that seem nice in hindsight. But I'm not working at those places anymore for a reason, I tell myself. I tell myself it's all for the best. What else can I say? I have to negotiate this internal dialog in a very polite and deliberate manner. I hate to think of what could happen if my self-loathing became more intense.

Within me there is the part of me that fights to keep my life together, and the part that always manages to tear it all apart in a terrible self-destructive moment.

Curt, hurt. Curt hurts. Curt hurt Curt. Hurt; Curt. Curt hurts.

I am going to the cemetery. I am going to talk to somebody. I want to dig graves.