” … he, the novelist, a fourth-grade dropout and ex-logger in his late forties, looked as if life had given him an endless stream of two-timing girlfriends, five-day drunks and cars with bad transmissions.”
The above sort of captures the essence of my life at the moment with the exception that I finished college, never logged, am in my early 50s, only had a few two-timing girlfriends and (knock on wood)never had any cars with transmission problems. I also would suggest that someone define “five-day drunks.”
But Richard Brautigan, who used this wonderful description in his bizarre short story called “1/3, 1/3, 1/3,” nonetheless could feel my pain long before it appeared. That in itself is quite amazing especially because I never knew Brautigan other than to read his whimsical books as well as the fact that he killed himself more than 20 years ago.
My truck is in the shop. Fortunately, it is a not-too-serious condition that has been fixed with its surgeons awaiting payment. The fact is I am teetering on the edge of homelessness thus no one in my position (or any other to be totally fair) really needs this kind of s**t to happen. As much of a cynical ass that I probably always will be, it is rather difficult to look at the bright side. Indeed there is a bright side. Things could be worse.
But things could also be better. Yes, things could be a whole lot better thus creating what was aptly characterized by a military acronym, the word “snafu,” for “situation normal — all f**ked up.” So let me extract myself from this snafu and I shall be ready to move on to the next.
Join the Pessimists. Our motto: “We would have meetings but we’re afraid no one would show up.”