Feeling Lousy, Looking for Company

Flat out feeling lousy today. And yesterday. Been raining down in Texas, all of the telephone lines are down...goes the song, or something like it. Well, been raining here and while we needed some, we probably didn't need the near two feet we've gotten in the last 7 weeks.
And I've been working hard. Got 3 covers and three inside features as well as half a dozen short news stories and parts of two group cover stories done since I returned from Peru three months ago. Also did a couple of columns for my Canadian mag, Skunk (the column is called Drug War Follies); and a cover story for a very major business mag. But that all ended Tuesday and today is Thursday. Where's my work? What's next? Want to finish my ayahuasca book, just a couple of chapters to go as I'm already at near 300 pages and have 50 pages of things to insert between chapters--some of which you've seen here, like the recent piece on Ayahuasca Healing and the one on Icaros and so forth--but don't have the oomph for that right now. That work is so damned hard, so willing-to-go-into-my-soul that I really have to have at least a little energy stored up to start it. Though I might start it in the morning just because I am Peter Gorman, son of Thomas and Madeleine Gorman and when things are down we head up. So that might happen.
And there are fantastic plans in place for a dream expedition in the summer.
But reality is that I've no money coming in from outside sources. And one of my editors is headed to prison and can't pay what he owes. And the woman who ripped me off for $10-12 grand two years ago isn't going to pay up any time soon. So I'm getting broke. And no juicy freelance work in the picture at the moment.
And then Chepa's boyfriend is coming in tomorrow so she is getting all ready for that three day appearance, which means I don't get to see the babies for a few days and she's got Madeleina there too to make her Halloween costume, so I'm alone in this freaking rainy house. And I can't figure out how to turn the TV on with the damned complicated remote to watch the World Series game tonight.
There's chicken in the oven, and fantastic left-over chicken soup on the stove, but no one to eat it. I've got a wonderful spaghetti squash I wanted to make but that's probably too fattening to eat now, at near 6 PM, so I'll hold off on that because I'm such an old, fat, ugly man that I can't risk doing further damage. Hell, I'm already breaking cameras when they take my pic. Whatever happened to that young good looking Gorman guy? When did they trade him in for me? And why didn't I see it coming????????
There's more, but that's enough. Heck, my house isn't tall enough to break an ankle jumping off the roof, much less doing enough damage to earn a little sympathy, so I don't dare look at the rest of the bleak horizon.
Oh, except for the fact that no one else but two have signed up for the January trip, so I might have to cancel, in which case two people are probably going to ask not only for their money back--including what I've already spent--but to pay for their non-refundable airline tickets as well. And then three members of my Peruvian team wrote today to say they had emergencies and needed an aggregate $800, and I only have $7000 in the whole world and can't give it to them. Ah, shit. See? I told you I didn't want to look at any more of that horizon....
But you know what? Just cause I'm without my kids, any love, sex, money, prospects or work, and just because I looked at myself in the mirror the other day and thought I had a halloween mask on--and I've been working out so I can't blame anyone but me for the freaking triple chin--HA!
That's right. HA! I have been here before and I will climb out of these blues and this stinking hole. Something will break because I'll break something if it doesn't happen first. I am, after all, Peter Thomas John Gorman, Son of Thomas and Madeleine Gorman, Brother of Michael, Pat, Peg, Barbara and Regina; Father of Italo, Marco and Madeleina, And soon to be grandfather of baby girl Gorman. As well as being integral in the lives of my ex, Chepa, and her two babies, Sierra and Alexa.
And that is one hell of a pedigree.
So join my mysery tonight, but know that we will be kicking out the fugging jams come morning. I will be there, present and accounted for. Somehow. Some way. But tonight really sucks.
Nonetheless, this is the last of it for now. End of sorry for my sorry self.
Time to feed the chickens, ducks, goat, dogs, cats, birds.
I'm still needed by them, at least.
HA!