"So it goes."
- Kurt Vonnegut

That's how I feel. ...I'll get there.

First: Cornerstone Fest was great; amazing in some ways, highly memorable in all. I have stories to tell, concerts to rate. I'll get to it soon. I'm sorry I didn't post as soon as we got back on Monday (like anyone was worried), but I needed the dulling, sweet, comfort of this house (my parent's house) to cushion the post-Cornerstone depression, which was rather strong this year.

Moving on.
Heather is very sick with a cold.

Tomorrow we drive back to Arkansas, where I have to perform, representing Fayetteville, in a team Slam against the other Arkansas teams, at 8:00 pm. God help me.

And, Heather and my dad sat down to work out finances and establish a budget. They came to me with the bottom line. And we are really, really, REALLY screwed. We will probably be living in my parent's basement by December.

If I cannot find a job at $7.5o/hour and 25 Hrs/Week minimum, by mid-August, then this will happen.
The type of job cannot matter. It is my misery that fuels our survival.
The odds of finding such a job in my region (with my wife and I forced to rely on one car, and my meager skill level and poor job history) are not good.
Yet, this is my task.
(You know, my Father, Mother, Wife, and Sister all have "job fields" and corresponding "callings." I have niether. So this is starting to get more and more difficult to take.)

("Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans."
-Thomas La Mance)


Did I earn this? Is this God's will? . . . What does it fucking matter? So God takes my friends from me. So I have to live encumbered and surrounded, for who knows how many months, by those I have most greatly failed. So fucking what! As if anything can stop the tide of my own life, which I have dragged Heather into, inevitably crashing down on the shore and breaking into nothingness. My will and my strength spread thin until it recedes into obscurity. My desires and dreams meaningless in the face of this chemical monolith. And my writing is shit, too.

Aside from "our daily bread" and the forgiveness of our sins, Christ's only request, as far as I know, in regard to his own desires, in prayer to his Father, was . . ."take this cup from my hands."

And God said, "No."



I have to get up in four hours and drive.

So it goes.