Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Missing Callie, And Tired Beyond Belief...

 This is Callie
Those sad eyes are because I'm not there with her.

I’m sitting here in my motel room, where I’ve been living for the past five weeks.  Yesterday my work got rained out – this is the third time just in the first month of being here, which means I’ve lost just about $800 in income – and that’s JUST IN THE FIRST MONTH OF BEING HERE.  I’ve heard people who have been here in Lake Tahoe 20 and 30 years, who have said they have NEVER seen it like this – the constant rain, thunder, and lightning.  Well, to be more specific, it has done that shit mostly on MY nights of work – but still, it’s never been like this as far as what I’ve been told.  Last night, after watching TV for the first time since moving here, I was reminded of Callie, my cat - who I love more than I ever loved any stupid human.  Callie was severely abused for the first year of her life, and I was the sole person who made her feel welcome and loved – I spent hours and hours talking to her when we (me and the ex) first got her.  After two months or so, she quit hiding under the beds, her sad eyes didn’t look so sad anymore, and she loved being on and around me.  The first time she jumped up on my lap and looked up at me as if to say, “Is it ok that I be here?”, just about took me down – and I’m not a cryer.  I said, “Of course it’s ok you be here, you stay here as long as you want, ok?”.  She did that every night for the rest of the time we lived at that apartment – six months or so.  We moved to the RV, where there was really no way for her to do that, but I did other things with her then.  I’m the one who spent time with her, taking her outside in the evenings (she didn’t like being outside during the day), and I was the one who loved talking to her for hours a day when she was deathly afraid of humans, and of life, I was the one who made her feel welcome and loved.  Not only is she the most unassuming, non demanding, and well behaved cat I’ve ever known, but she is magnificent, freakishly fast and agile, even her walk is different.  Callie cannot be with me because of things far beyond my control.  For one, the ex would never, in a million years, allow me to have her, and, even if she did, I don’t know what’s going to happen with me.  If things don’t change awfully quick, I will be out of work and out of a place to live inside of three months, if that; and should that happen, I made the promise to me that I would cut an artery and be done with it.  I’ve been homeless twice, and I will not put up with that again – I’ve put up with way too much already.  I’m not going to put Callie out to fend for herself just because shit happens to me; at least where she’s at, she has food and a warm place to sleep.  The ex doesn’t really have time for her, with another cat, and a dog – the dog taking up most of her attention.  I don’t fear that the ex will abuse Callie, my worst fear is that she will give her back to the shelter, where she could end up with somebody who does abuse her, or neglect her – or, with somebody who is not me.  Nobody would love Callie like I do.

I have spent most of my adult life doing music, not only doing the necessary things to seriously do that for a living, but also doing without things such as the family life, house, cars, financial stability, and whatever else, and I was happy to because I knew music was what I lived for, it’s what I had to offer the world.  I did everything right, I worked at it, I got decent at it, I took calculated risks, and some reckless risks.  I’ve never done a drug in my life, never smoked, never was a drinker, gambler, or anything of the kind.  I’m almost 60 years old, and I’m about to lose my ability to live indoors, my ability to earn an income – all because of things I had and have no control over.  The fact is, if it were because of my own screwups, I could be ok with that, but since it has always been because of things I had no control over, I cannot be ok.  I have been jerked around all my life, and that hasn’t changed since moving up here.  I have one place where I work, and that will be going away soon – as soon as it’s too cold to be out there on that patio.  Every other entertainment manager I’ve talked to here has given me the classic bullshit stories, and classic runaround – and that’s not to mention the ones who have hid from me like I was the black death.  The calibre of music is the same here as in most places – it’s horrid, which makes it even more difficult to listen to the flaming bullshit that I constantly get fed by these entertainment managers.

The ex also has, among other things, my guitars and other musical instruments, locked up in her storage and is refusing to allow me to get in there to get them out.  One guitar I’ve had since 1982, the others five and six years, as well as two toeres, one that I built myself, and the other built by a Tahitian guy – the thing is a work of art, and was not cheap.  There are also scrapbooks with my life in them, a baseball glove that I had since I was 17, my high school basketball and volleyball letters, and other personal stuff.  That being the case, though, if it should come down to a choice between getting in storage and getting my belongings out, or to where I could safely have Callie, I would take Callie in a red hot second and not even look back or give it a second thought.  The fact remains, though, that I’m here, Callie is there, with not a damn thing I can do about it.
This is the kind of constant and endless thing that the universe does, which is what has turned my attitude sour for most things.  I’m amazed that I can still go onto a stage and entertain people.  There was a time, though, that I couldn’t even do that – as recently as a few months ago.  For the record, and for the smartasses of the world, I blew past self pity and despair 20 years ago or more, these days I’m at full blown disgust and hatred for most things.

So, I’m very close to being out of work, and out of a place to live, my belongings locked up where I cannot get to them, I miss Callie terribly, and there is not a goddam thing I can do about any of it; and believe me, I have done everything humanly possible to have a decent life, to avoid crappy people, to avoid crappy situations; but I continue to be a fucking magnet for this stuff, and I’m pretty sure things aren’t going to magically change now.

That’s all I have for now.

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