I’m mailing Bob a letter to mail to Kim with the hopes of getting some extra money out of her by doing whatever work she may need or want me to do that I can do from across the country. I even threw a stamped envelope in for him. I’m not going to lie and say that money isn’t my sole interest, because it is. Meaning, I’m not going to be friends with her if she says no. It isn’t that I hate her or think ill of her, it’s just that I see no point in bothering to resume a friendship with someone on the other side of the country. I know getting work from her is a hell of a long shot, but I didn’t think it could hurt to try. I’m not going to tell Tom about it unless she surprises me with having something for me to do, cuz if I’m right about my not being meant to generate any income, she’s not going to have anything for me, and there’d be no point in mentioning it to anyone. I don’t want Tom to get all paranoid or worried and think that just because I’ve made contact with Bob and Kim, I’m going to do so with Andy and my family. I’d never want a smoking pothead like Andy back in my life who’d do nothing but bug me, not that I expect he’d take me back as a friend either. I’d also never have anything to do with my family who abused me in so many different ways like they did for so many years. I have more self-respect than that. Everybody’s so hell-bent on forgive, forgive, forgive, but not me. Besides, I really think the only reason so many people are so big on forgiveness is that they hope it will get their own asses off the hook when they themselves do wrong. They figure that if they can get others to share their attitude, they’ll quickly be forgiven as soon as they cross the line and figure, why not do wrong? I’ll only be forgiven.

I hope to hear from Mary as to whether or not she and Mom are interested in the Yves deal, but I won’t hold my breath. I asked them to email me either way, but they strike me as the type to blow me off and wait to tell Tom they aren’t interested when they see him. That could be this Sunday after he puts the other muffler on. That’s quite a drive, so if the damn thing passes that test, he’ll feel more comfortable taking it elsewhere. For one, we’ve got to take a load to the dump. We’ve got tons of boxes, non-burnables, and shit outside that needs to go.

My Mary must really miss having a radio, though I can assure her she’s not missing much. It’s mostly full of welfare bums screaming about their rage, welfare, gangs and drugs. It really gets old! Here are these damn rappers who grow up on the streets in gangs, then get rich and famous by screaming about the things that piss them off and that they think are oh so unfair, but me, who grew up with all kinds of abuse and has a high school diploma and some college, still remains with an average or below income. And you know what else ticks me off? Society’s quick to write about the trouble I’ve gotten in, be it real or imagined, like they did with the freeloaders here and the prank calls back east, but when did anyone ever write about when I escaped the projects back in Norwich and journeyed all the way out here with little more than the clothes on my back? When did they ever write about when I quit smoking, drew a really good picture, got married, got an ear canal drilled, etc.? So much of the time the wrong people are getting attention or money for the wrong reasons while those who are much more deserving of recognition or money don’t get shit. Well, I don’t want any recognition or attention. Just the opposite, especially after being thrust into the spotlight like I have so many times throughout most of my life. But a home job, just a lousy home job, would be nice! Why is it that more often than not, the simplest and or most common things are just too much to ask for? And I’m sick of my family knowing about my damn business, too! Hell, Lori and Lisa know about the jail shit. Doe would’ve told Larry who would’ve told Ronnie who would’ve told Lori and Lisa. I don’t want these assholes to have the satisfaction of having any knowledge of my life.

I was both bummed out and frustrated over this sleep curse that’s so obviously a curse that’s been put on me. What to punish me for, I do not know, but it’s more than obvious that it is a curse designed to punish me and to hinder me from who knows how many opportunities. They say there’s a reason for everything and that God makes us how and who we are for a reason, but I can’t imagine for the life of me why I was meant to not be able to keep a schedule and to be so sleep-needy other than to be punished by it. Sometimes we get answers, sometimes we don’t. I mean, I think it’s safe to say that the reason God denied me a child was to punish me back when I wanted one and because he knew I couldn’t handle one anyway. Same with the singing, but why, for example, was I not meant to be with a woman as good-looking as Kate, Linda or Gloria? Not that I’d trade Tom in for the world, but why was it so important to God that I be with a man? I knew he was trying to tell me he wanted me with a man all along, like long before I met Tom, but why? Medical insurance is the only reason I can think of, but now a woman can name another woman as her insurance benefactor, so I don’t know what to think.